Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 10 : What’s Mine

*Lucas*

I stood outside of Nostalgia, just outside Sasha's view. Donovan kept his arm securely around her shoulders and

plied her with drinks. She was madder than a wet cat, and kept drinking, more than I was comfortable with.

But then, I'd been nearly plastered by the time I'd gone to the bar. The only reason I left home at all was because

Brady, the asshole, finally hid the booze.

Donovan. If he hadn't inserted himself into our little world, I might have Sasha beneath me right now, I thought,

palming her luscious breasts while exploring her sweet mouth with my tongue. Then I'd have gone lower, and lower

still, until she begged for it. And being the gentleman I was, I would have given it to her, long into the night.

I shook my head to clear it of those thoughts. Just as I did, I met Donovan's eyes through the paned glass.

He smirked at me and kissed Sasha's temple.

I wanted to throw him through the glass, then rip him apart with my bare hands. I wanted to f**k him up. I wanted

to f**k him up bad.

I wanted to kill him.

I pictured a dozen scenarios.

Then Donovan excused himself, finally taking his hand off Sasha, and headed for the bathrooms.

I considered going back inside and just claiming what was mine; having her for those brief moments soothed my

wolf and calmed my rage. But while I was still contemplating the pros and cons, Donovan himself came around the

side of the building. He must have used the service exit.

“Problem?" I growled, trying not to picture his lips brushing against my sweet Sasha's temple.

Donovan folded his arms, trying to look all big and bad. But I had at least two inches and forty pounds of muscle on

him, so I just flicked my eyes over him in disdain.

“Look, if you're not going to make your move," Donovan said, “you need to step off. Some of the rest of us aren't all

twisted up about what we want."

My eye twitched. “'We'?"

“It's just an expression. Look, Lucas, buddy, you have to either go in there and snatch her up, or man up and let her

go. I've been working on that girl going on three years now. She's just about in the bag. I don't know how you got an

in with her, but it's not fair to the rest of us for you to go toying with her emotions. Makes it real hard to get her in

the sack, if you know what I mean," Donovan griped.

Yeah, I really was going to kill him. “You just want to get her in the sack, is that what you're telling me right now?"

Donovan shrugged. “I mean, it's a good start. I really like this girl, and I think we'd have a lot of fun rolling around in

the hay. If it goes deeper than that, you know, great. If we have some fun and go back to being friends, that's fine,

too. You are way too intense, man."

“I see," I seethed.

“Look, I understand if you need to get in and out and on with your life. Scratch that itch or whatever. But after that,

I'd appreciate it if you'd disappear. I've got plans for this girl—“

I grabbed Donovan by the throat. “That girl's name is Sasha, and she deserves better than an asshole like you

pawing her over."

Donovan coughed, grabbing my wrist. “Dude," he choked out, “let go!"

Instead of letting go, I dragged Donovan by the throat right up into my face.

“If you so much as breathe on her, I swear by the White Queen's mercy, I will tear you apart. Got it?"

Donovan managed a nod, and I let him go. “Jeez, if I knew she was that important to you—“

“You're going to go in there, make your excuses, and leave. and I'm going to watch you all the f*****g way, from

Sasha to taxi. Do I make myself clear?"

“Crystal." Donovan dusted invisible wrinkles out of his clothes and headed back the way he came.

Ten minutes later, the bastard was in a cab, cruising back to whatever hole he crawled out of.

I still couldn't seem to peel myself away from the wall until Sasha left her barstool and rejoined her flamboyant, but

capable friend Amanda. Even if Sasha got totally sloshed, I knew Amanda would get her home.

It was time for me to head that direction as well. I walked around the block to where Ian was lounging against my

car, reading a newspaper.

“Let's go," I said gruffly, and Ian quickly tossed the paper in the car, understanding I wasn't in the mood for any of

his shenanigans.

He opened the back passenger door and I flopped into the soft leather, letting the cool of it clear my head.

I was stone sober and in one hell of a predicament.

I still wanted Sasha Wentley.

***

“You look less plowed than I thought you'd be," Brady said when I walked in the door.

“Sasha Wentley was at the bar," I replied without preamble, going to the fridge and pulling out the orange juice.

“Mimosas or screwdrivers?" Brady asked, turning in his chair.

It was then that I saw behind him a shifter I'd never seen before. She was plump with brown bouncy curls and lips

that no doubt usually carried an infectious smile.

Now, she was just concerned. “The work-study intern?" she asked with keen interet.

I scowled at Brady while I poured myself a tall glass of juice.

“Sorry. Lucas, this is Phoebe. Phoebe, this is Lucas," Brady said.

Phoebe stood, wearing one of Brady's robes, and came to shake my hand. “I'm so pleased to meet you. Brady's

told me so much about you."

“Clearly," I grumped.

Phoebe blushed and Brady waved her back over to the table.

“Take a seat," he said. “Lay down your troubles."

“In front of Phoebe," I muttered, though I did take a seat just the same, gulping orange juice to chase the last of the

alcohol away.

“Yeah, in front of Phoebe. She's my fiancée." Brady grinned at me and Phoebe held out her hand to reveal a ring

with a diamond the size of a small asteroid.

I whistled. “Wow. When did all this happen?"

“Took her to dinner last night and popped the question. She said yes. I am a very lucky bastard." Brady gave

Phoebe a besotted smile.

Phoebe giggled.

Come to think of it, I'd been so wrapped up in the library project, I hadn't been keeping track of Brady's private life.

“Congratulations," I said, raising my orange juice to them.

“Thanks," Brady replied. “Can't wait for the two of you to get to know each other better. Now, you don't have to say

yes, because I can get my own house, but I was wondering if you'd mind if Phoebe lived here, now that we're

engaged."

I chuckled at their hopeful expressions."Absolutely. I'd miss having your sorry around, and I should get to know your

girl better."

“I cook!" Phoebe said, her smile indeed infectious.

“That's great," I replied. “Can't wait to see what you come up with."

Phoebe beamed while Brady speared me with a look. “Speaking of girls...."

I groaned and pulled my hand over my face. “Sasha f*****g Wentley."

“Why do you say it that way?" Phoebe asked. “I had a composition class with her at the university. She's a really

nice gal."

“You go to school with her?" I asked, ignoring her rebuff.

Phoebe nodded. “I mean, we're in completely different majors, but we both had to take our generals and we ended

up in class together."

“You ever take a class with a guy named Donovan?" I pressed, still picturing that bastard laying a kiss on Sasha's

temple.

“Donovan Clarke?" Phoebe made a face. “What a sleeze. I swear he's chasing every girl on campus. Of course, he's

all smarmy about it, making you think you're the only one...."

Brady's eyes flashed red. “Did something happen between you two?"

Phoebe blushed. “First year, I'm embarrassed to say."

“He ran around on you?" Brady hissed.

Phoebe drew little circles on the table. “Yes," she murmured.

Brady took her hand and kissed it. “I'd be happy to kill that asshole for you."

Phoebe leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thanks, love."

I liked what I was hearing less and less. “He strings along multiple women at a time?"

“Yeah. Only he's really sneaky about it," Phoebe sighed. “You don't know until it's too late. And he's persistent. He'll

play the long game or the short game to get what he wants. I mean, why not? He's got a whole host of girls to sleep

with while he's making a move on the next."

“So, let's say, hypothetically, he was putting the moves on Sasha. And, hypothetically, I almost crushed the

bastard's throat and warned him off her. Would he stay away?" I asked slowly.

Phoebe hung her head. “Getting a girl away from her current boyfriend is his favorite game. If you showed

interest...."

I growled low in my throat.

“So, hypothetically, why didn't you just squeeze the life out of the fucker?" Brady grunted.

“Because I didn't know who I was dealing with. Fuck." Just as I was about to say more, the office phone rang.

I nearly knocked my chair over getting up, imagining all kinds of terrible scenarios that would have Sasha calling

me. I took the stairs two at a time and was breathless when I grabbed the receiver. “Sasha?"

There was a pause. “No," came the voice of King Xander's assistant. “But I would appreciate it if you would call her.

The king would like you to take a couple of days to wrap things up at the northern library site. While we look for a

different work-study project for Miss Wentley, she may as well shadow you at the job site."

I took a few deep breaths to get my heart to settle down, then replied, “I'll let her know."

“Excellent. A list of duties will be couriered to your house. After you've completed the list, you can leave the rest to

the archeological team."

“Understood," I said, and after the assistant's polite send-off, I hung up the phone and sank into my chair.

Brady and Phoebe poked their heads around the doorframe. “Not Sasha?" Brady asked, stating the obvious.

“No." Then I groaned and smacked my forehead. “Damn it all. We need to wrap up at the library site and she still

hates me."

“So you're back to square one," Brady observed.

“Fuck." I looked up at them. “You want to watch me do the walk of shame, don't you?"

“Definitely," Brady said while Phoebe nodded enthusiastically.

“You really are perfect for each other," I muttered as I picked up the phone.

And dialed the number of the last person in the world who wanted to hear from me.