Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 32 : Old and New Friends

*Lucas*

“You're sure this guy is on the level?" Brady asked as we stepped into the seediest dump of a bar on the edge of the

capital.

“Oh, I'm one hundred percent sure he's not until I hand him this," I said, subtly jingling a leather pouch of coins.

Money wasn't exactly something you wanted to draw attention to in a place like this.

“I suppose that puts everyone on the level," Brady mused.

“Money talks. A lot of money sings and dances," I quipped. I scanned the bar, which was difficult in the low lighting.

Most people were hunched over their drinks, though I could feel their eyes on us.

“You lost?" the big, burly, tattooed bartender asked as he mopped out a mug.

“Pretty sure we are," Brady muttered, but I elbowed him.

“They're with me," an unfamiliar voice said from the deepest of the shadows.

The bartender turned his head that way and nodded.

Taking a deep breath, I walked into that darkness with Brady.

“Lucas Black," the squat little man at the table in the darkest corner said.

I let my sight adjust to the near-complete obscurity, my eyes and Brady's beginning to glow. “I'm Lucas Black," I

confirmed.

The hunched little man jerked a thumb in Brady's direction. “And him?"

“He's a friend," I explained. “May we sit?"

“What's your name, friend?" the little man asked without inviting us to sit down.

“Brady," Brady replied. “I'm a doctor."

The man nodded slowly. “You're gonna need one if this turns out to be some kind of trap. I'm Crispin. Sit."

Though he was small, I got the feeling Crispin could efficiently and ruthlessly slit my throat before my ass left the

chair if things went south. Brady looked at me, and I could see in his eyes he had the same thought.

“So, you're the big man who made big problems in Leviss," Crispin said, cracking a feral smile. He snapped his

fingers and three heaping mugs of beer appeared quickly at the table.

Yep. Dangerous as f**k.

“It wasn't intentional, I assure you," I replied.

Brady politely sipped his beer when Crispin gave him a look.

“Good man. Vampires aren't usually up for beer. But since we're friends...." Crispin trailed off as Brady swayed in his

seat.

I put a hand on his shoulder, alarmed. “What's going on?"

“It's sleepy time for the help," Crispin said. “I don't deal with lackeys."

I gently lowered Brady's head to the table and made sure he wasn't going to fall out of his chair. “You could have

told me. I would have sent him out."

Crispin shrugged. “You could have told me you were bringing someone else. I don't like surprises."

“Noted," I grunted. “So… you were saying about Leviss...."

“You raised all holy hell, and probably unholy hell as well," Crispin replied cryptically.

“And that means?" I asked.

Crispin gave another half smile. “You've raised the witch."

Oh, f**k. I had an idea where this was going. “The old priestess?"

“Right. Let's call her that," Crispin chuckled. “I guess that's what she calls herself."

“She's not a priestess?" I hazarded.

“Pfft. She's an old witch, a dark witch… a real one, buddy. And you've got her on your tail," Crispin said.

I sat back in my chair. “f**k. A… powerful witch?"

“Probably not as powerful as the dream dancer you have hanging around with you, but that's just going to pique

her interest even more," Crispin replied.

“H-how did you know about Sasha?!" I gaped.

Crispin tapped a grubby finger on the table. “Since you've been through Leviss, everyone knows about 'Sasha.'

There's a reward for her there, and you. They're calling you criminals."

“Goddess, why did she even bother with that? She's here with her goons," I sighed, raking a hand through my hair.

“I figured she'd do her dirty work herself."

“Pretty sure she's going to. If I were you, I'd go somewhere beyond the borders of Egoren, maybe the Light Realm."

Crispin held up a hand. “Don't tell me where. I can see on your face that's exactly where you're going. And for

enough coin, I'd tell the devil himself where you were headed. So wherever you're going in the Light Realm, keep it

to yourself."

“Thanks...." I said, wondering if that was the right thing to say to that.

“You're welcome. Now, you had a favor to ask?" Crispin asked.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the full pouch of coins and a letter I'd addressed to Eliza. “Please get this

letter to Eliza and Jared Crimson. It's of the utmost importance," I said, pushing them both over to Crispin.

“Obviously, we can't go west ourselves."

“Obviously." Crispin weighed the bag of coins in his hand, took one one, bit it, then nodded. “This is enough coin to

get me to take your letter all the way to the Miltern Pack, if you wanted. You just want me to go as far as the

Crimson Pack?"

“Yes," I responded, “as fast as you can."

“Then there's no time to waste, is there?" Crispin took his mug and drank the whole thing down in one great gulp.

“Be seeing you again sometime, I'm sure."

“I'm sure." I watched as Crispin wandered, whistling, out of the bar.

Then I began shaking Brady awake. “Brady. Brady!"

“Snrrrk?" Brady mumbled, wiping a bit of drool off the corner of his lip. “What the f**k happened?"

“I made a small mistake, that's what happened," I said. “Now, get up. I don't want to stay here a second longer than

we have to."

Brady stood, still looking laggy. “Yeah, let's get the f**k out of here."

I supported Brady as he weaved out of the bar like a drunkard. Very soon, he was able to walk under his own

momentum, and I thanked the Goddess that whatever Crispin had given him didn't have any lasting effects.

Ian had parked several blocks away from the bar, unwilling to risk the sedan getting stripped for parts while he was

held at gunpoint. He silently opened the back door for us when we arrived, cold and hungry, after a fifteen-minute

walk.

“Sirs," Ian said as we launched ourselves into the back of the car.

“We want to go home by way of...." I looked at Brady.

“A fried chicken restaurant," Brady filled in the blank, shivering.

I figured he'd been knocked out, so he deserved to choose the food we were having.

“Very good, sirs," Ian replied and closed our door, keeping the sharp wind out.

My house was on the opposite side of the capital from the seedy bar we'd just left, which led to us devouring

chicken in the sedan.

Ian did not appreciate this and kept hemming and hawing at every crumb we dropped, even though we tried our

very best not to make a mess.

“So, when are you going to tell me about Sasha being your mate?" Brady asked around a drumstick.

I coughed, choking on breading. “What now?"

“Sasha Wentley… mate… yours," Brady repeated.

“Brady, she's not my mate," I said, though saying it out loud made me feel like I'd been stabbed under the ribcage.

“You sleep with her. You fight with her. You're completely obsessed with her. She's your mate, mate," Brady

responded, proud of his little pun.

I snorted. “Stop with the nonsense. I'm just trying to get her through a difficult time. When we've got this all

resolved I'm… I'm sure things will end."

“They all say that," Brady chuckled, and I could hear a suspiciously similar noise from the front of the car.

“Who all says what?" I grumped.

“Every time two people bump heads the way you two do, and then share the kind of passion you do… they're

always mates. ALWAYS," Brady said.

I snatched up the last chicken wing, and Brady scowled at me. I munched it slowly in front of him. “I'll believe that

when I see it."

“Shouldn't take long. She'll be twenty-one soon," Brady reminded me.

I felt a little flutter in my stomach. What if she was my mate? What would I do then?

“It would be very unprofessional and probably detrimental to her career to mate her...." I speculated.

“Now we're getting somewhere. You're assuming you'd have to be her supervisor. She could always work under

Stone Hamline," Brady said innocently.

I growled, low and rumbling and taking over the entire sedan. “I'll be damned if that f*****g letch comes within fifty

feet of her."

“Mates," Brady called to the front of the car, and Ian nodded.

I groaned and tossed the bones of the chicken wing back into the bucket. It almost missed, and Ian's eyes bulged in

the rearview mirror. “You really think we're mates."

“I do," Brady said.

“f**k me," I muttered.

“Seems Sasha's already doing that for you," Brady replied, examining his fingernails.

I punched him in the shoulder. “Don't talk about her that way. And… we're not. We had a bit of a fight. Now we're

playing the 'who can hold out longer' game."

“I'll bet she's winning," Brady grinned.

I shook my head. “She wants to play around with that orb. I'll never sleep with her again if I have to, to stop that

from happening."

Brady's expression turned serious. “She still wants to work with the thing?"

“Yeah, and she used her dream dancer abilities on it," I responded. “I don't want her to have anything to do with it,

but she's convinced she needs to keep messing with it in order to fulfill some prophecy–a prophecy we don't even

know or understand. I just want to take that thing, stick it in the ground, and go after it with a jackhammer."

“Knowing your luck lately, it'd probably just make it stronger," Brady muttered.

“No doubt," I grumbled.

“Did you leave her alone with it?" Brady asked suddenly.

“No. Already made that mistake today," I grunted. “She went out with friends and I put the orb back in the safe for

the time being."

Brady relaxed. “Good."

There was a crunch of tires on pea rock gravel as we reached the front of the house. I hopped out of the sedan

before Ian could open the door. “Sasha?" I called. “Sasha!"

“He's got it bad," I heard Brady say to Ian behind me.

I ignored them. “Sasha...."

My housekeeper opened the door for us, obviously having heard me yelling. “Mr. Black, Miss Wentley still has not

returned from her outing."

I looked at the setting sun, feeling the deepening chill cut through the air. “She's not back yet?"

“No, sir," she responded.

I closed my hands into fists and swore proficiently. “Brady, go ahead inside and at least make sure Phoebe's there.

Ian, stop fussing with the chicken crumbs and take me to the last place you dropped her."

“Yes, sir," Ian said sourly, holding open the door to the sedan for me.

I folded my arms over my chest as the door shut, both from the cold and out of frustration.

Sasha f*****g Wentley.

She was going to be the death of me, I was sure.