Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 288

Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 288

Chapter 68: Death of a White Queen Hanna The waves were lapping against the shore in a graceful, rhythmic pattern. I like this water.

It was frigid, biting, and sent a jolt of electricity through my body whenever I reached my hand down into the rocks and let it glide over my bare skin.

Rowan swam in it on occasion.

I loved to watch him as he did laps back and forth along the breakwater where the water was calm and safe from the swirling rip currents.

We had been taking long walks together lately, always ending at the port.

I would perch on a rock and watch him dive into the water, his chestnut hair clinging to his skin as he moved gracefully against the heavy silt.

Like a seal, I thought with a smile.

Or an otter.

My Rowan.

How odd we must seem to other people.

We were not the typical mates.

We’d known each other for almost three months and had yet to touch more than occasionally intertwining our fingers while we walked.

We barely spoke, in fact.

But I found solace in our silence.

Rowan had never once chastised me for my uncontrollable powers.

He never judged, rejected, or ignored me.

I was just Hanna to him.

Not a witch.

Not a dream dancer.

I was just the girl I hadn’t yet had a chance to be.

Watching him board the seaplane once again stung more than it had the first time.

They were all going, the men, leaving us women behind while they congregated with the Alphas of the East to settle things in Mirage.

I stood on the bluff overlooking the port while the plane took off and circled over the village until it disappeared into the low hanging clouds, and I could feel Rowan’s presence no more.

This time was different and would be different.

I wasn’t a stranger to Rowan’s people any longer.

Rosalie was interested in me, enthused by my powers.

She could sense them and make sense of them in a way no one else had done before, save for my mother before she died.

Even Kacidra had softened to me, opening up her heart and accepting me for who, and whatever, I was.

And then there was Gemma, who had the strangest aura about her, something that pulled me in and kept me hooked on her every movement and every word.

She had felt so familiar to me in the same way Rosalie felt familiar.

I often wondered if Gemma had powers of her own, something buried deep inside, something dormant.

But that didn’t matter at the moment.

I was standing along the shore as Rosalie, Kacidra, and Otto’s wife Shelly fussed over the row of white roses that lined the stone fence along the inner wall of the cemetery further up the hill.

The Temple to the Moon Goddess was nestled snugly in a crop of tall spruce trees overlooking the water, and the voices of the women carried on the soft breeze that touched my cheek as I closed my eyes and breathed deeply the scents of salt and pine.

I was supposed to be here right now.

I felt it in my bones.

Why, I didn’t know.

It had taken some coaxing to get Shelly to join us on this trip.

The temple was a good thirty minute walk from the village, and she was reluctant to leave her young children behind.

But I knew there was more to it.

Shelly didn’t worship the Goddess.

She had been reeling from the events Rowan had described during one of our walks.

She was a strange person in a strange land, someone who didn’t quite fit in.

Much like myself.

I hadn’t had a single conversation with Shelly, but I felt a bond with her, nonetheless.

“Hanna!” Kacidra called out, her voice mingling with the crashing surf.

I turned my head to look up at her, her blonde hair swaying in the breeze.

“Come on, it’s time!” I let out the breath I had been holding and turned to look over the water once more.

I had been practicing for this moment I had successfully pulled myself in and out of my dreams on command.

I had found Maeve, confirmed she was safe and alive.

But Rosalie wanted more, something I wasn’t sure I could do.

She wanted to try to go with me into the spirit realm.

And I wasn’t about to tell her no.

I licked my lips, chapped from the salt spray, and turned toward the temple, tucking my hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt I had found in Rowan’s closet.

It smelled like him and gave me comfort as I maneuvered over the rocks to what felt like an uncertain fate.

Shelly was watching me closely as I entered the cemetery through the rusted gate, closing it behind me.

Her arms were full of roses, and a hint of smile was evident on the corner of her mouth as she watched me, her gray eyes focused on mine.

She nodded, once, then turned away as she continued to converse with kacidra, who was alight with anticipation

Rosalie had gone inside the temple, the door left ajar.

I could smell the matches she used to light the candles at the altar the second I stepped into the sanctuary.

I felt an odd rush of air touch my skin despite the stillness in the room.

The candles didn’t even flicker.

The downy hairs on my arms and neck rose as I watched Rosalie move around the altar, striking match after match.

She looked so young in the soft multi-colored sunlight drifting down from the stained-glass windows, the reflection rippling over her hair and cheek as she turned to light a single candle that had been placed in the hand of the statue of the Moon Goddess.

1 swallowed against the lump in my throat as I gazed up at the faceless statue of the woman.

She was etched out of pure granite, crafted as though the temple had been built around her.

One hand held the candle, while the other hand was outstretched, fingers splayed and palm facing the ceiling The fingers of that hand were darkened from centuries of being touched by parishioners who knelt before the statue, reaching their arms up to touch her fingertips as they prayed, much like Rosalie was doing now.

I hadn’t ever prayed to the Moon Goddess. Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

But I sought her.

I always sought her in my dreams.

I thought, if I could only catch a glimpse of her, maybe I would know her reasons for giving me the burden I carried

But now that I was standing before her likeness, I felt hollow.

Unsure.

And scared “I don’t think we should do this, Rosalie.

My voice was trembling as Rosalie turned around, her eyes fixed on mine.

“I won’t force you to, Hanna.

I promised you that.”

“I don’t think 1-1 can.

What if something goes wrong? What if-” “We’re in the sanctuary now.

This is her place, her domain.

That’s why I chose it.

You said you dreamt of a white temple and now we stand inside of it.” Rosalie had laid out several white roses on the altar that was situated between the stone benches and the statue, her fingers lingering on the petals as she watched me with a careful eye, “I don’t know why you want to do it,” I confessed, my voice straining with a silent plea.

She wouldn’t force me, that was true.

But I couldn’t deny her desires to see Maeve alive and well for herself.

She was such a stoic woman, but a silent one.

She carried herself with dignity and grace.

She would never let us see her falter or give in to her fears, her deepest emotions.

I wondered if she let Ethan see that side of her, but an overwhelming part of me told me that whatever she was feeling regarding Maeve, she had kept to herself.

And now Ethan was gone to Mirage, and she had no witness to protest her actions.

“I need to see it.

I need to see what you see.

I need to…to understand how this works.

What this means.

Not just for us, Hanna.

But for Maeve, and Rowan.” “1-1 know-” “You and I are different, Hanna.

The pack Lycenna needs you for something I have to understand.

They want…you and Rowan, and I think I know why.

But I need to know for sure so we can stop them.”

“You’re right,” I breathed, surrendering.

I felt a pitch of guilt at the fact I had given up at the mention of Rowan instead of leaning against my deeply rooted anxieties about attempting to take Rosalie, the White Queen herself, into a realm outside of my control.

“We have to try,” she continued.

I nodded tightly.

Kacidra and Shelly had come in, murmuring in low voices.

I could smell the roses they carried in their arms.

“So, how are we doing this?” Kacidra asked bluntly, leaning against the far wall.

Rosalie looked at her, then me, her expression softening as she smiled and shrugged.

“I think I’M just hold her hand, see if she can take me wherever she goes.”

“That sounds too easy,” Kacidra retorted.

Rosalie gave her a motherly look of warning, then turned her attention back to me.

“I asked her for guidance.” Rosalie motioned towards the statue nonchalantly, her eyes still focused on mine.

“I think we just need to touch.

I should be able to feel…

when you go, if that makes sense I know your method of focus 1-1 think you’re right.

We can try” Trying is all we can do,” she smiled, but I could sense her unease.

When we first talked about the idea of her being able to Dream Dance with me, I was skeptical.

It sounded impossible, in fact.

But she was a White Queen If anyone could do this, it was us.

I took a deep breath, looking over my shoulder at kacidra and Shelly.

Shelly looked nervous but intrigued.

Kacidra looked oddly excited and was exudating pride.

I’d never seen her look at me like that, and the silent encouragement began to course through my veins like adrenaline.

I stepped toward Rosalie, my eyes flitting up to the faceless statue.

I had practiced, and practiced, and practiced until I got it right.

I was confident in my abilities to will myself in and out of dreams now.

I could always find the door.

But I worried about Rosalie.

She took my hands in hers, the two of us stood between the statue and the altar.

I said a silent prayer, not for us, but for Rowan

Keep him safe.

And if anything happens to me…

Let him find his mate again.

Kacidra Shelly shifted nervously on her perch on one of the benches, clutching the roses she had picked to her chest.

I watched her pick the thorns off the stems with interest, eventually catching her eye.

“What’s the matter?”

“N-Nothing. I just…I’m sure you heard about Lycenna. And Hanna is…” “Are you a Dream Dancer too?” I asked.

“No, I’m not. My great aunt was but… not nearly as strong as Hanna. Can you,” “No, I can’t.” I breathed, my mouth tasting bitter, I mustered up the courage to talk about my mother for the first time in many years.

Shelly listened with empathy, her eyes misting with tears a few times as I laid out my truth.

I had longed for my mother’s affection.

There had been a time when she doted on me.

But that was when she thought I would grow into my powers.

I never had, and the second Hanna had shown potential i was cast to the side.

Shelly took my hand, squeezing.

We sat in silence for a moment, lost in separate but oddly connected contemplation.

We looked over at Rosalie and Hanna, who were standing, holding each other’s hands across the altar.

Neither had spoken or even moved in an hour.

But suddenly I saw Hanna grimace, then twitch, her body going rigid.

Rosalie’s hands fell from her grasp as I stood.

“Something’s wrong, somethings-” Rosalie sucked in her breath, opening her eyes.

“Rosalie!” I cried, jumping forward to catch her as she stumbled backward.

A gust of wind that had no business being in the temple seemed to rush over us, bursting through the doors.

Shelly had risen, the roses she had placed in her lap falling to the floor.

She looked around, her eyes focused on the rush of leaves swirling around our feet.

“Get her out of here!” Shelly screamed, darting forward and grabbing Rosalie by the arm.

But another rush of wind knocked them both backward, tossing them against the far wall with enough force to shatter the stain-glass windows and send a shower of glass down over our heads.

I lunged towards Hanna, who was struggling, her eyes closed and mouth opening and closing as she struggled inside her dream.

“Hanna? HANNA!” She screamed, pushing against me as I embraced her, willing her to take me into the dream to fight whatever demon was on the other side.

But then I felt her tense up, her fingers gripping my jacket and yanking on the fabric.

I struggled to get free of her touch, her grip intense and painful.

“Hanna! Stop! You’re hurting me!” She pushed me so hard that I hit the floor, my head cracking against the marble tiles.

I smelled blood, my own, and whimpered as I reached back to touch the wound on the back of my skull.

Rosalie was darting forward, slipping on the white roses that had fallen off the altar, their petals dappled with my blood.

“Rosalie, don’t!” I managed to scream as Shelly’s arms came around me, pulling me across the marble.

I watched in horror as Hanna shifted.

Rosalie stopped short of Hanna’s wolf, swaying as she reached up to put a hand to her temple.

She reached out and touched Hanna, who was snarling and sniffling, totally out of control.

The room suddenly felt devoid of air.

The petals rustled as they lifted from the tiles.

I sucked in my breath, finding it impossible to breathe.

Shelly let out a scream as a burst of air shattered the remaining windows and sent a cascade of glass over the top of our heads.

I heard yelping, then Rosalie’s voice raised in a plea of mercy.

Then a flash of bright light blinded me as I blinked frantically to clear my vision.

It was quiet now.

No wind.

No noise.

I sat up, Shelly steadying me as we looked in horror at the scene in front of us.

Rosalie had wrapped herself protectively around Hanna, who was now back in her basic form, her long black hair splayed out over her naked body.

Rosalie was still, her cheek against the side of Hanna’s face.

Rosalie’s eyes were wide open.

Unseeing.

She was dead.