Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 75: The Fourth Time I’ve Died for You

Maeve

“This is at least the fourth time I’ve died for you-or almost died for you,” Troy said weakly as Cleo rolled a

bandage over his chest. “You’re going to marry me.”

“Okay,” I whispered, my mouth trembling as I smiled, and my eyes welled with tears. I looked from his

face to his chest, which was moving up and down as he breathed.

He was breathing. He was alive.

And he had a moonstone.

Keaton was sniffling behind us, Myla murmuring reassurances in his ear as she stroked his back with her

head pressed against his shoulder

I’d had a strained relationship with Keaton since the day I met him. I thought he was ornery and arrogant,

and I would continue to think that, but kneeling on the beach with him while Troy died in front of us had

cemented an intimate type of relationship between us a shared indescribable grief, and eventually a

communal joy when Troy opened his eyes once more.

We were all standing in absolute disbelief, still processing the events that had taken place in the last

thirty minutes or so. Troy had died and come back to life. Damian was dead. Opaline had been captured

and was hogtied and laying in one of the skiffs, her screams of frustration mingling with the rush of the

incoming tide.

And we had the moonstone we had come all this way for.

“We‘re going back to Winter Forest now,” Troy grunted, trying to sit upright despite Cleo’s protests.

“We–we can’t. We have to go to Dianny first-“| stammered, stepping forward into the circle that was

standing around Troy.

“Maeve’s right. We can take whatever goods we find here back to the Persephone, but we’ll need to stop

to-”

“Tasia-” Myla and I said at the same time, which caused the low murmuring taking place around the circle

to quiet.

I sucked in my breath, glancing at Myla before exhaling deeply and telling everyone what had happened,

and what had been said, after Myla killed Damian.

Keaton’s face fell at every word. I knew he was thinking about Robbie. We all were. I didn’t know if I fully

believed Opaline, but even Damian had warned me about Tasia and her powers.

“We have to go back and see what happened. If there were survivors. If Robbie…” | tucked my hands

into the pockets of my pants. I was filthy, still in the clothes I had worn when we entered the tomb three

days ago.

“Robbie would have made it out; he’ll be fine,” Keaton turned to Troy, offering his hand. Troy took it as

Keaton helped him upright, holding onto Keaton’s shoulder for support as he stood, wobbling for a

moment before regaining his composure.

It seemed that my blood hadn’t healed him. The moonstone had brought him back to life, but he still had

a deep wound across his chest. Pete was holding the knife Opaline had stabbed him with during her

attack, turning it over and over in his hand.

“We’ll split the supplies Damian has here at camp,” Troy said firmly, looking from face to face. “Maeve

and I are going north, back to the pack lands… to Winter Forest. The rest of you will go to Dianny.”

“Troy, we should go with them,”

“No,” he rounded on me, looking irritated. I pursed my lips, biting the inside of my cheek as he continued.

“This was the plan all along, to stop Damian from getting his hands on the moonstone. It’s done. It’s time

for you to go home, Maeve.”

His tone was incredibly harsh, and I felt myself beginning to cower. He was angry, whether at me or the

situation, I wasn’t

sure.

But Troy was watching me with interest as he spoke, his eyes boring into mine. I could feel his gaze all

over my skin and it brought a warm blush to my cheeks. I looked away from him, knowing exactly what

he was looking for. He knew today was my birthday. He knew what that meant.

I wondered if he felt the mate bond.

I wondered if he knew I didn’t.

“Troy’s right; we split up. Someone find the keys to that cruiser in the distance,” Keaton stepped out of

the circle, letting go of Troy. He was barking commands to the crew now, his skin tight with dried tears. I

swallowed against the apprehension tightening my throat and looked at Myla, who just shook her head.

“We‘re really going to split up?” I said to anyone who was still listening.

“I want to go north with you.” Pete had stepped forward, his words directed at me instead of Troy. This

took Troy by surprise, and he turned to face Pete, his brow furrowed.

“That’s not up to you–” Troy began.

“I’d never been off the Isles when I first boarded the

Persephone. Now, I’ve traveled south, about as far as you can go. I didn’t find her,”

“Find who?” Troy asked, narrowing his eyes.

“My… mate.”

Keaton let out his breath, shaking his head as he chuckled and turned to face us. “I knew it all along,”

“I’m serious! I want to go with Maeve. I want to see the world north of the Isles—”

“Fine!” Troy bit out, reaching up to hold his hand against his temple. He swayed, and I jumped forward,

wrapping my arms around him before he fell over. His body was warm against mine, and I couldn’t help

but lay my cheek against his back, thankful when his body softened to my touch. “I’m tired. I’m really… I

just need to lie down.”

“That’s fine. There’re couches in the big tent. You can rest while the rest of us gather up supplies.” I

whispered against his skin. I felt him nod, weakly, his muscles trembling as he took a deep breath.

Then he moved out of my arms and walked in silence toward Damian’s tent.

“It’s not you, Maeve. He’s hurt.” Keaton was looking at me, his

eyes shining in the moonlight.

| swallowed hard, nodding as I looked down at my feet.

Keaton was only half right.

***

It was daybreak. Light was filtering through the tent flap and people were walking by with bundles of

supplies in their hands. Cleo came in carrying fresh bandages, and I sat up, giving her a soft smile.

“How was he last night?” she asked as she sat her bundle down on Damian’s desk and began to unroll

the bandages.

“He woke up a few times…. He’s in pain, Cleo. I offered to help him but he-he told me not to bother.” I

tried to hide my hurt but failed, my cheeks flaming with a furious blush.

“I’m sorry he said that to you Maeve. I’m sure he didn’t mean it to upset you.” She soaked a rag with

what smelled like pure alcohol, and I sucked in my breath, imagining how much it would sting when she

cleaned Troy’s wound with it.

“I want you to watch me do this, okay? You’re going to have to do this when we… We…” She paused,

biting her lip and shaking her head as she set the alcohol-soaked rag on a small tray. “I can’t say I’m

totally on board with you traveling with Troy and

Pete without me with you, being as pregnant as you are.”

We had talked about it the night before. Troy, Pete, and I would be going north in Damian’s cruiser, while

the rest of the crew of the Persephone would be going to Dianny, which included Cleo. She had

protested, but I knew she would come to regret being separated from Myla if she didn’t go with them,

especially after hearing the story of Cleo’s mate.

“I’m going to be fine,” I said reassuringly, trying to sound sincere. I had at least three months to go before

I gave birth, and a two-month-long journey to Winter Forest. Troy stirred, shifting uncomfortably on the

couch near Damian’s desk, his eyes fluttering.

“We‘re going to have to leave soon. Keaton is taking Opaline on the Persephone,”

“No, he’s not.” Troy rolled onto his side, hissing as he struggled to sit upright. His bandages were red

with fresh blood. He blinked into the soft morning light, his gaze settling on me for a moment before

looking at Cleo, then her bandages. “No,” he said curtly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’ll get a raging infection, Troy. We‘ve been over this twice already.” She took the tray between her

hands and stood before him, giving him a motherly look, something that demanded obedience.

He surrendered, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he accepted his fate, and Cleo started to unwind the

bandages over his chest wound.

I wanted to look away, but Cleo called me over. “This is the area you need to worry about, right here. See

how deep this is? I’m going to stitch it up-”

“No, you’re not-” Troy closed his mouth and breathed through his nose as Cleo gave him another cold

look, then settled back against the couch.

“Anyway, I’m going to stitch him up. But you still need to clean the entire area at least twice a day. When

you get to Winter Forest, your mother should take a look at it and see if she can help him, okay? He

might have some nerve damage…”

I nodded, fighting back tears. I hadn’t told anyone about the painful feeling lodged in my chest that was

telling me something was dreadfully wrong in Winter Forest.

I continued to watch Cleo, listening as she told me exactly what she was doing and why. As she was

wrapping a fresh bandage around Troy’s chest, I looked up into his eyes, which were focused on mine

again with the same intensity as the night before. He said something to Cleo, and she nodded in

response, turning away from him and gathering her supplies before she left the tent.

I held my breath as I sat down on the couch across from Troy, my mouth going dry. He cleared his throat,

and I looked up at him, waiting for him to ask me the inevitable.

But he didn’t speak. He just stared.

“I don’t feel it, Troy,”

“I know you don’t. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Of course, it does!” I cried, wringing my hands together. “I’m not your mate. Your mate is still out there

somewhere, and I… I won’t let you sacrifice that happiness. If you found her I would… I would let you go.

I would.”

“I feel it, Maeve, even if you can’t.”

His voice was incredibly serious, which matched the look etched on his face. There was no softness in

his features. He wasn’t trying to convince me. He was telling me it was so.

“There’s a difference between being in love and being with your mate-”

“How do you know?” His eyes were shining in the sunlight coming through the tent flap. I looked away

from him. “How could you possibly know the difference? What do you feel for me, Maeve? Tell me how

it’s different.”

“I love you”

“That is enough for me.”

“It’s not enough for me.” I bit my lower lip, wishing he could just peer into my mind and help unravel the

tangled web of emotions I was feeling. I loved him. I wanted him. He was the father of my unborn

children.

If he was my mate, I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t even feel my wolf. My blood didn’t possess healing powers.

I was useless. I wasn’t a White Queen.

And it would kill me if he found his mate and refused her because of me. I wouldn’t let him sacrifice that

right, that gift. I loved him too much to let him do that for me.