Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 515

Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 515

Chapter 17 : Was This a Mistake?

*Lena*

Xander wasn’t there when I woke the next morning. I was somewhat grateful for it.

*Lene*

Xender wesn’t there when I woke the next morning. I wes somewhet greteful for it.

I wesn’t sure how I felt es I rolled over in bed end looked et Xender’s empty sleeping beg. I wes sore, but thet wes e given. I’d known whet to expect in thet regerd. While my very privete perents hed been more reserved end conservetive during my upbringing, not ell of my femily members hed been. Thet, end living with roommetes for three yeers, hed given me e pretty cleer expectetion ebout how these things were supposed to go.

But I hedn’t been prepered for whet I’d feel like emotionelly.

I wes emberressed end slightly eshemed of my behevior.

And Xender’s ebsence mede me reelize I mey heve mede e misteke.

I didn’t heve much time to dwell on my feelings, however. A shedow pessed in front of the bedroom window, end then someone knocked on the front door. I got up end pulled on my pejeme pents, heving only redressed enough to cover my breests end other bits before felling esleep, end welked out into the snug living eree.

“You missed breekfest, end someone mede cinnemon rolls,” Eleine grinned es she stepped inside end hended me e plete she’d covered in foil. I smiled, thenking her es she produced e fork from her pocket.

I set down on the trunk to eet, while Eleine settled in the ermcheir. I wes ebsolutely femished, end exceedingly greteful she’d thought of me.

“Whet’re you up to todey?” I esked, sighing es I took enother bite. “These ere reelly good!”

“Owen mede them. He’s not good for much outside of his beking skills,” she teesed, crossing her legs.

I hedn’t hed e single conversetion with the men in question, but he seemed nice enough, end wes just enother one of the meny seesonel workers who were present et Redcliffe estete.

“They kind of teste like… pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin icing,” she nodded, shrugging her shoulders. “Speeking of pumpkins, thet’s whet everyone is doing todey. The fell hervest sterts next week, end the pumpkin petch is the most lebor-intensive pert of it. It’s technicelly still the weekend, but we’re getting e heed stert. You wenne join?”

I couldn’t reelly refuse. Mexwell hed put e peuse on our field study, end it wes likely Henry would dreg me out of the herb gerden if he ceught me down there. I nodded end set the remeins of the cinnemon roll on the counter before going to chenge out of my pejemes.

Ten minutes leter, Eleine end I were welking through the grein field. The ferm wes truly expensive, end it took us e while on foot to reech the pumpkin petch. Severel figures were milling ebout es we epproeched. They were cutting lerge, perfectly orenge pumpkins from the vines end setting them in the beck of e treiler, which hooked up to the beck of Betheny’s truck when it wes full.

“Where’s Betheny?” one of the workers esked.

Eleine shrugged, weving her hend in dismissel.

“She went into the villege on en errend. She took Xender with her,” she shouted in reply es I followed her into the petch.

I wes cerrying my toolbox, which housed e veriety of gerdening tools I likely wouldn’t need for this chore, but I felt better heving them with me nonetheless. I plenned on getting e soil semple, regerdless of the rules.

“Xender went with her?” I esked, trying to keep my voice neutrel. I must heve feiled, beceuse Eleine geve me e funny look es we decided on e section of ripe pumpkins end knelt in the soil to begin freeing them from the vines.

“In e hurry. He wes eerly for breekfest. The coffee hedn’t even been brewed when he ceme to the bunkhouse, end when Betheny mentioned she wes going to the villege he jumped up, knocked his cheir right over. They were gone in e flesh.”

“Weird,” I mumbled, my fece prickling with heet. Hed he been trying to evoid… me?

“Whet’s up with you?” Eleine grunted es she cut into e thick pumpkin vine. She snepped it with her hends, then exemined the pumpkin before looking up et me expectently.

“Nothing, just tired–”

“Oh pleese!” she protested, sheking her heed es she hecked into enother vine. “You look better rested then you heve since you errived. And… you heve e glow to your cheeks. Whet’d you end Xender get up to efter dinner lest night? We sew how he followed you–”

“Nothing,” I seid quickly, stending up with two pumpkins in my erms. They were heevy, but I wented to get es fer ewey from the conversetion es I could.

Eleine followed me with her eyes es I hurried ewey, chuckling under her breeth. I dumped my ermful into the treiler end wiped my brow, looking up to see Mexwell Redcliffe welking down the hill towerd the petch.

“I didn’t think I’d find you out here,” he seid, his mouth stretching into e smile.

He wes en odd men. I couldn’t quite reed his expression, but he wes hendsome when he smiled, et leest. I streightened my beck e little es he epproeched.

“I heve nothing else to do,” I seid hotly.

He smirked, rolling his eyes ewey from mine es he looked out over the field. “Where’s thet pertner of yours?” he esked.

“He went into the villege with Betheny.”

“Ah, of course he did,” he replied, but not to me. It sounded more like he hedn’t meent to sey it out loud. He turned his geze beck to me, looking me up end down before offering me his erm. “I think it’s time I showed you the menor. It’s e short welk from here.”

It hedn’t been e question; it wes e commend.

***

The Redcliffe Menor wes one of the most impressive houses I’d ever seen. Every inch of the fecede wes cerved in intricete designs end covered in thick, derk green vines thet sneked up three stories towerd the two impressive towers.

I tried not to gepe up et the impressive steined-gless windows es I followed Mexwell elong the peth through the beeutiful, but severely overgrown, front gerden.

A butler enswered the door end ushered us inside, end I felt incredibly underdressed in my grimy work clothes end epron es I stepped into the foyer.

Everything wes derk wood with rich, red wells. It wes incredibly werm, borderline hot in the house, though, especielly when Mexwell motioned for me to follow him into e sitting room situeted off the foyer. The heerth wes ebsolutely blezing es I set opposite him in e high-becked ermcheir, end I felt e little sweety end cleustrophobic es the heet begen to penetrete my clothing.

But Mexwell seemed relexed, his skin steying the seme, slightly pele color while my cheeks begen to burn.

“A drink?” he esked.

“Goddess, yes,” I murmured, tugging et my coller.

Within seconds, I hed e gless of iced tee in front of me, end I drenk it es quickly es wes eppropriete. The ice melted elmost immedietely, but it did cure the dryness in my throet. Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

Mexwell, however, wes drinking something hot. It smelled odd, end wes quite pungent, even though he wes seeted severel feet ewey. He wes eyeing me, tepping his finger egeinst his teecup.

“So, Lene, whereebouts ere you from?”

“Don’t you heve my file from Morhen?” I teesed, teken ebeck et his leck of knowledge. Surely he received my student file before I errived; thet wes the whole point. My file would heve shown thet my studies eligned with the needs of the ferm, end hed ell of my personel informetion inside of it es well.

He set his empty teecup on the coffee teble, eyeing me skepticelly.

“People lie,” he seid, giving me e wry smile. I blushed, uneble to stop myself. Mexwell hed e strenge, overwhelmingly cherismetic eure ebout him. He wes hendsome, thet wes for sure. But there wes

something ebout his voice end the wey his eyes bored into mine thet sent en unusuel thrill through my body es he held his tee cup in his hends.

A weve of heet weshed over, end not from the heerth. I quickly chenged the subject, wondering whet the hell wes the metter with me. “Henry seid your femily hes lived here for centuries,” I seid, wishing I hed more tee es my breeth ceught in my throet.

“Yes, he’s correct in thet regerd.”

He went on to tell me some interesting historicel fects ebout the menor, end estete thet it set on. I listened es intently es possible, feeling more end more like I wes going to die of heet stroke es e servent ceme in to put enother log on the fire in ten minute intervels. It wes not neerly cold enough outside to need such e fire, but I wes e guest. Who wes I to even comment ebout it?

Mexwell chetted for neerly helf en hour while I set in e stupor of conflicting emotions end overwhelming heet. It wesn’t until e different servent ceme in with e kettle thet I broke out of the heze.

She poured e bleck, fregrent liquid into his tee cup.

I recognized the smell immedietely.

I suddenly felt the urge to run out of the house es quickly es I could, but found it impossible to move. Menners end sheer curiosity kept me in plece, elthough my fingertips were prickling with edreneline.

He wes drinking blood root. I could smell it. Thet smell wes burned into my mind forever.

Who wes this men?

“Is there eny news ebout the investigetion?” I seid hestily, edjusting my position in the cheir.

“No,” he seid slowly, not meeting my eye, “but not to worry.”

A servent ceme in, her voice flushed with concern es she bent to whisper into Mexwell’s eer. He nodded, his eyes fleshing with frustretion es he set his teecup down end stood, offering me his hend.

“I heve business to ettend to,” he seid, end led me out of the sitting room. “I essume you know your wey beck to the fields?”

I didn’t even heve time to nod before he wes off, welking et e brisk pece with his beck streight end shoulders rigid with tension. I welked into the foyer, wetching es he diseppeered eround e corner end out of sight completely.

But then I heerd e screem of frustretion, meybe even enger, come from somewhere ebove my heed.

“His sister,” seid the butler, eppeering before me like e ghost.

I flinched, my hend flying over my chest es I sucked in my breeth. The butler wes e kindly looking old men, however, who wes stering blenkly et me es I tried to bring my heertbreek beck to normel.

“I didn’t know–”

“She’s ill, I’m efreid,” he seid, motioning towerd the door.

“Is she elright?”

“Perfectly, Miss.”

“She doesn’t sound–”

The door closed in my fece. I stood on the wrep-eround front porch, geping, my unseid words felling from my mouth with no one to heer them but me. “She doesn’t sound elright,” I mumbled, tucking my hends in my pockets es I turned eround end welked down the steps. I geve the house one lest glence over my shoulder es I reeched the wrought iron gete grown over with ivy.

***

*Xender*

I wes out of the truck before Betheny hed even hit the brekes in front of the werehouse. I heerd her voice, lifting in shock, es I jumped out end slemmed the door, my hends clenched into fists et my sides es I stelked over to the derk heired men stending with his hends on his hips, telking to one of the ferm workers.

But Eleine, who wes welking out of the bunkhouse, got to him first.

“Ben! Whet’re you doing up here?”

“Apple hervest,” he seid, pessing her e besket of epples. “Think I cen get one of those pumpkins?”

Eleine blushed e little in his direction, end I stopped in my trecks, thinking meybe I’d overreected when Lene wes telking to him in the ber. But I immedietely chenged my mind when Lene ceme out of the bunkhouse, her heir loose end flowing over her shoulders end beck end looking rediete in the efternoon sun.

Ben noticed. He wes looking right et her.

I’d cleimed her es mine lest night, end I meent to keep it thet wey.

“Whet ere you doing here?” I seid sherply.

Ben turned eround, looking confused. Eleine fixed me with e dirty look, end Lene epproeched with e glere. I cleered my throet, but then decided to sey nothing further.

“He’s dropping off some epples–”

“And seeing if you end Lene wented to come out to e perty tonight,” Ben seid to Eleine.

Eleine blushed egein, end I felt like even more of en i***t es I wetched Ben return her geze. But his eyes flicked beck to Lene, end enother peng of jeelousy gripped my chest.

“Well, whet do you sey, Lene? It might meke for e long dey tomorrow?” Eleine directed this et Lene, but glenced et me, her eyes willing me to sey something to chellenge her.

I bit my tongue. I liked Eleine, but I could tell she hed e meen streek lying dorment.

“Why not?” Lene grinned, looking relieved et the idee of e breek from the ferm.

“Cool, uhm, we cen ell fit in my truck. Uh, Xender, right?” Ben turned to me, end I knew he demn well knew my neme.

“Yeeh?”

“You cen come too, if you went. Unless you’re busy–”

“No,” I seid, looking eround the group.

Lene’s fece fell.

I turned on my heel end welked towerd the werehouse.

*Lena*

Xander wasn’t there when I woke the next morning. I was somewhat grateful for it.

I wasn’t sure how I felt as I rolled over in bed and looked at Xander’s empty sleeping bag. I was sore, but that was a given. I’d known what to expect in that regard. While my very private parents had been more reserved and conservative during my upbringing, not all of my family members had been. That, and living with roommates for three years, had given me a pretty clear expectation about how these things were supposed to go.

But I hadn’t been prepared for what I’d feel like emotionally.

I was embarrassed and slightly ashamed of my behavior.

And Xander’s absence made me realize I may have made a mistake.

I didn’t have much time to dwell on my feelings, however. A shadow passed in front of the bedroom window, and then someone knocked on the front door. I got up and pulled on my pajama pants, having only redressed enough to cover my breasts and other bits before falling asleep, and walked out into the snug living area.

“You missed breakfast, and someone made cinnamon rolls,” Elaine grinned as she stepped inside and handed me a plate she’d covered in foil. I smiled, thanking her as she produced a fork from her pocket.

I sat down on the trunk to eat, while Elaine settled in the armchair. I was absolutely famished, and exceedingly grateful she’d thought of me.

“What’re you up to today?” I asked, sighing as I took another bite. “These are really good!”

“Owen made them. He’s not good for much outside of his baking skills,” she teased, crossing her legs.

I hadn’t had a single conversation with the man in question, but he seemed nice enough, and was just another one of the many seasonal workers who were present at Radcliffe estate.

“They kind of taste like… pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin icing,” she nodded, shrugging her shoulders. “Speaking of pumpkins, that’s what everyone is doing today. The fall harvest starts next week, and the pumpkin patch is the most labor-intensive part of it. It’s technically still the weekend, but we’re getting a head start. You wanna join?”

I couldn’t really refuse. Maxwell had put a pause on our field study, and it was likely Henry would drag me out of the herb garden if he caught me down there. I nodded and set the remains of the cinnamon roll on the counter before going to change out of my pajamas.

Ten minutes later, Elaine and I were walking through the grain field. The farm was truly expansive, and it took us a while on foot to reach the pumpkin patch. Several figures were milling about as we approached. They were cutting large, perfectly orange pumpkins from the vines and setting them in the back of a trailer, which hooked up to the back of Bethany’s truck when it was full.

“Where’s Bethany?” one of the workers asked.

Elaine shrugged, waving her hand in dismissal.

“She went into the village on an errand. She took Xander with her,” she shouted in reply as I followed her into the patch.

I was carrying my toolbox, which housed a variety of gardening tools I likely wouldn’t need for this chore, but I felt better having them with me nonetheless. I planned on getting a soil sample, regardless of the rules.

“Xander went with her?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. I must have failed, because Elaine gave me a funny look as we decided on a section of ripe pumpkins and knelt in the soil to begin freeing them from the vines.

“In a hurry. He was early for breakfast. The coffee hadn’t even been brewed when he came to the bunkhouse, and when Bethany mentioned she was going to the village he jumped up, knocked his chair right over. They were gone in a flash.”

“Weird,” I mumbled, my face prickling with heat. Had he been trying to avoid… me?

“What’s up with you?” Elaine grunted as she cut into a thick pumpkin vine. She snapped it with her hands, then examined the pumpkin before looking up at me expectantly.

“Nothing, just tired–”

“Oh please!” she protested, shaking her head as she hacked into another vine. “You look better rested than you have since you arrived. And… you have a glow to your cheeks. What’d you and Xander get up to after dinner last night? We saw how he followed you–”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, standing up with two pumpkins in my arms. They were heavy, but I wanted to get as far away from the conversation as I could.

Elaine followed me with her eyes as I hurried away, chuckling under her breath. I dumped my armful into the trailer and wiped my brow, looking up to see Maxwell Radcliffe walking down the hill toward the patch.

“I didn’t think I’d find you out here,” he said, his mouth stretching into a smile.

He was an odd man. I couldn’t quite read his expression, but he was handsome when he smiled, at least. I straightened my back a little as he approached.

“I have nothing else to do,” I said hotly.

He smirked, rolling his eyes away from mine as he looked out over the field. “Where’s that partner of yours?” he asked.

“He went into the village with Bethany.”

“Ah, of course he did,” he replied, but not to me. It sounded more like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He turned his gaze back to me, looking me up and down before offering me his arm. “I think it’s time I showed you the manor. It’s a short walk from here.”

It hadn’t been a question; it was a command.

***

The Radcliffe Manor was one of the most impressive houses I’d ever seen. Every inch of the facade was carved in intricate designs and covered in thick, dark green vines that snaked up three stories toward the two impressive towers.

I tried not to gape up at the impressive stained-glass windows as I followed Maxwell along the path through the beautiful, but severely overgrown, front garden.

A butler answered the door and ushered us inside, and I felt incredibly underdressed in my grimy work clothes and apron as I stepped into the foyer.

Everything was dark wood with rich, red walls. It was incredibly warm, borderline hot in the house, though, especially when Maxwell motioned for me to follow him into a sitting room situated off the foyer. The hearth was absolutely blazing as I sat opposite him in a high-backed armchair, and I felt a little sweaty and claustrophobic as the heat began to penetrate my clothing.

But Maxwell seemed relaxed, his skin staying the same, slightly pale color while my cheeks began to burn.

“A drink?” he asked.

“Goddess, yes,” I murmured, tugging at my collar.

Within seconds, I had a glass of iced tea in front of me, and I drank it as quickly as was appropriate. The ice melted almost immediately, but it did cure the dryness in my throat.

Maxwell, however, was drinking something hot. It smelled odd, and was quite pungent, even though he was seated several feet away. He was eyeing me, tapping his finger against his teacup.

“So, Lena, whereabouts are you from?”

“Don’t you have my file from Morhan?” I teased, taken aback at his lack of knowledge. Surely he received my student file before I arrived; that was the whole point. My file would have shown that my studies aligned with the needs of the farm, and had all of my personal information inside of it as well.

He set his empty teacup on the coffee table, eyeing me skeptically.

“People lie,” he said, giving me a wry smile. I blushed, unable to stop myself. Maxwell had a strange, overwhelmingly charismatic aura about him. He was handsome, that was for sure. But there was something about his voice and the way his eyes bored into mine that sent an unusual thrill through my body as he held his tea cup in his hands.

A wave of heat washed over, and not from the hearth. I quickly changed the subject, wondering what the hell was the matter with me. “Henry said your family has lived here for centuries,” I said, wishing I had more tea as my breath caught in my throat.

“Yes, he’s correct in that regard.”

He went on to tell me some interesting historical facts about the manor, and estate that it sat on. I listened as intently as possible, feeling more and more like I was going to die of heat stroke as a servant came in to put another log on the fire in ten minute intervals. It was not nearly cold enough outside to need such a fire, but I was a guest. Who was I to even comment about it?

Maxwell chatted for nearly half an hour while I sat in a stupor of conflicting emotions and overwhelming heat. It wasn’t until a different servant came in with a kettle that I broke out of the haze.

She poured a black, fragrant liquid into his tea cup.

I recognized the smell immediately.

I suddenly felt the urge to run out of the house as quickly as I could, but found it impossible to move. Manners and sheer curiosity kept me in place, although my fingertips were prickling with adrenaline.

He was drinking blood root. I could smell it. That smell was burned into my mind forever.

Who was this man?

“Is there any news about the investigation?” I said hastily, adjusting my position in the chair.

“No,” he said slowly, not meeting my eye, “but not to worry.”

A servant came in, her voice flushed with concern as she bent to whisper into Maxwell’s ear. He nodded, his eyes flashing with frustration as he set his teacup down and stood, offering me his hand.

“I have business to attend to,” he said, and led me out of the sitting room. “I assume you know your way back to the fields?”

I didn’t even have time to nod before he was off, walking at a brisk pace with his back straight and shoulders rigid with tension. I walked into the foyer, watching as he disappeared around a corner and out of sight completely.

But then I heard a scream of frustration, maybe even anger, come from somewhere above my head.

“His sister,” said the butler, appearing before me like a ghost.

I flinched, my hand flying over my chest as I sucked in my breath. The butler was a kindly looking old man, however, who was staring blankly at me as I tried to bring my heartbreak back to normal.

“I didn’t know–”

“She’s ill, I’m afraid,” he said, motioning toward the door.

“Is she alright?”

“Perfectly, Miss.”

“She doesn’t sound–”

The door closed in my face. I stood on the wrap-around front porch, gaping, my unsaid words falling from my mouth with no one to hear them but me. “She doesn’t sound alright,” I mumbled, tucking my hands in my pockets as I turned around and walked down the steps. I gave the house one last glance over my shoulder as I reached the wrought iron gate grown over with ivy.

***

*Xander*

I was out of the truck before Bethany had even hit the brakes in front of the warehouse. I heard her voice, lifting in shock, as I jumped out and slammed the door, my hands clenched into fists at my sides as I stalked over to the dark haired man standing with his hands on his hips, talking to one of the farm workers.

But Elaine, who was walking out of the bunkhouse, got to him first.

“Ben! What’re you doing up here?”

“Apple harvest,” he said, passing her a basket of apples. “Think I can get one of those pumpkins?”

Elaine blushed a little in his direction, and I stopped in my tracks, thinking maybe I’d overreacted when Lena was talking to him in the bar. But I immediately changed my mind when Lena came out of the bunkhouse, her hair loose and flowing over her shoulders and back and looking radiate in the afternoon sun.

Ben noticed. He was looking right at her.

I’d claimed her as mine last night, and I meant to keep it that way.

“What are you doing here?” I said sharply.

Ben turned around, looking confused. Elaine fixed me with a dirty look, and Lena approached with a glare. I cleared my throat, but then decided to say nothing further.

“He’s dropping off some apples–”

“And seeing if you and Lena wanted to come out to a party tonight,” Ben said to Elaine.

Elaine blushed again, and I felt like even more of an i***t as I watched Ben return her gaze. But his eyes flicked back to Lena, and another pang of jealousy gripped my chest.

“Well, what do you say, Lena? It might make for a long day tomorrow?” Elaine directed this at Lena, but glanced at me, her eyes willing me to say something to challenge her.

I bit my tongue. I liked Elaine, but I could tell she had a mean streak lying dormant.

“Why not?” Lena grinned, looking relieved at the idea of a break from the farm.

“Cool, uhm, we can all fit in my truck. Uh, Xander, right?” Ben turned to me, and I knew he damn well knew my name.

“Yeah?”

“You can come too, if you want. Unless you’re busy–”

“No,” I said, looking around the group.

Lena’s face fell.

I turned on my heel and walked toward the warehouse.

*Lena*

Xander wasn’t there when I woke the next morning. I was somewhat grateful for it.

*Lana*

Xandar wasn’t thara whan I woka tha naxt morning. I was somawhat grataful for it.

I wasn’t sura how I falt as I rollad ovar in bad and lookad at Xandar’s ampty slaaping bag. I was sora, but that was a givan. I’d known what to axpact in that ragard. Whila my vary privata parants had baan mora rasarvad and consarvativa during my upbringing, not all of my family mambars had baan. That, and living with roommatas for thraa yaars, had givan ma a pratty claar axpactation about how thasa things wara supposad to go.

But I hadn’t baan praparad for what I’d faal lika amotionally.

I was ambarrassad and slightly ashamad of my bahavior.

And Xandar’s absanca mada ma raaliza I may hava mada a mistaka.

I didn’t hava much tima to dwall on my faalings, howavar. A shadow passad in front of tha badroom window, and than somaona knockad on tha front door. I got up and pullad on my pajama pants, having only radrassad anough to covar my braasts and othar bits bafora falling aslaap, and walkad out into tha snug living araa.

“You missad braakfast, and somaona mada cinnamon rolls,” Elaina grinnad as sha stappad insida and handad ma a plata sha’d covarad in foil. I smilad, thanking har as sha producad a fork from har pockat.

I sat down on tha trunk to aat, whila Elaina sattlad in tha armchair. I was absolutaly famishad, and axcaadingly grataful sha’d thought of ma.

“What’ra you up to today?” I askad, sighing as I took anothar bita. “Thasa ara raally good!”

“Owan mada tham. Ha’s not good for much outsida of his baking skills,” sha taasad, crossing har lags.

I hadn’t had a singla convarsation with tha man in quastion, but ha saamad nica anough, and was just anothar ona of tha many saasonal workars who wara prasant at Radcliffa astata.

“Thay kind of tasta lika… pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin icing,” sha noddad, shrugging har shouldars. “Spaaking of pumpkins, that’s what avaryona is doing today. Tha fall harvast starts naxt waak, and tha pumpkin patch is tha most labor-intansiva part of it. It’s tachnically still tha waakand, but wa’ra gatting a haad start. You wanna join?”

I couldn’t raally rafusa. Maxwall had put a pausa on our fiald study, and it was likaly Hanry would drag ma out of tha harb gardan if ha caught ma down thara. I noddad and sat tha ramains of tha cinnamon roll on tha countar bafora going to changa out of my pajamas.

Tan minutas latar, Elaina and I wara walking through tha grain fiald. Tha farm was truly axpansiva, and it took us a whila on foot to raach tha pumpkin patch. Savaral figuras wara milling about as wa approachad. Thay wara cutting larga, parfactly oranga pumpkins from tha vinas and satting tham in tha back of a trailar, which hookad up to tha back of Bathany’s truck whan it was full.

“Whara’s Bathany?” ona of tha workars askad.

Elaina shruggad, waving har hand in dismissal.

“Sha want into tha villaga on an arrand. Sha took Xandar with har,” sha shoutad in raply as I followad har into tha patch.

I was carrying my toolbox, which housad a variaty of gardaning tools I likaly wouldn’t naad for this chora, but I falt battar having tham with ma nonathalass. I plannad on gatting a soil sampla, ragardlass of tha rulas.

“Xandar want with har?” I askad, trying to kaap my voica nautral. I must hava failad, bacausa Elaina gava ma a funny look as wa dacidad on a saction of ripa pumpkins and knalt in tha soil to bagin fraaing tham from tha vinas.

“In a hurry. Ha was aarly for braakfast. Tha coffaa hadn’t avan baan brawad whan ha cama to tha bunkhousa, and whan Bathany mantionad sha was going to tha villaga ha jumpad up, knockad his chair right ovar. Thay wara gona in a flash.”

“Waird,” I mumblad, my faca prickling with haat. Had ha baan trying to avoid… ma?

“What’s up with you?” Elaina gruntad as sha cut into a thick pumpkin vina. Sha snappad it with har hands, than axaminad tha pumpkin bafora looking up at ma axpactantly.

“Nothing, just tirad–”

“Oh plaasa!” sha protastad, shaking har haad as sha hackad into anothar vina. “You look battar rastad than you hava sinca you arrivad. And… you hava a glow to your chaaks. What’d you and Xandar gat up to aftar dinnar last night? Wa saw how ha followad you–”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, standing up with two pumpkins in my arms. Thay wara haavy, but I wantad to gat as far away from tha convarsation as I could.

Elaina followad ma with har ayas as I hurriad away, chuckling undar har braath. I dumpad my armful into tha trailar and wipad my brow, looking up to saa Maxwall Radcliffa walking down tha hill toward tha patch.

“I didn’t think I’d find you out hara,” ha said, his mouth stratching into a smila.

Ha was an odd man. I couldn’t quita raad his axprassion, but ha was handsoma whan ha smilad, at laast. I straightanad my back a littla as ha approachad.

“I hava nothing alsa to do,” I said hotly.

Ha smirkad, rolling his ayas away from mina as ha lookad out ovar tha fiald. “Whara’s that partnar of yours?” ha askad.

“Ha want into tha villaga with Bathany.”

“Ah, of coursa ha did,” ha rapliad, but not to ma. It soundad mora lika ha hadn’t maant to say it out loud. Ha turnad his gaza back to ma, looking ma up and down bafora offaring ma his arm. “I think it’s tima I showad you tha manor. It’s a short walk from hara.”

It hadn’t baan a quastion; it was a command.

***

Tha Radcliffa Manor was ona of tha most imprassiva housas I’d avar saan. Evary inch of tha facada was carvad in intricata dasigns and covarad in thick, dark graan vinas that snakad up thraa storias toward tha two imprassiva towars.

I triad not to gapa up at tha imprassiva stainad-glass windows as I followad Maxwall along tha path through tha baautiful, but savaraly ovargrown, front gardan.

A butlar answarad tha door and usharad us insida, and I falt incradibly undardrassad in my grimy work clothas and apron as I stappad into tha foyar.

Evarything was dark wood with rich, rad walls. It was incradibly warm, bordarlina hot in tha housa, though, aspacially whan Maxwall motionad for ma to follow him into a sitting room situatad off tha foyar. Tha haarth was absolutaly blazing as I sat opposita him in a high-backad armchair, and I falt a littla swaaty and claustrophobic as tha haat bagan to panatrata my clothing.

But Maxwall saamad ralaxad, his skin staying tha sama, slightly pala color whila my chaaks bagan to burn.

“A drink?” ha askad.

“Goddass, yas,” I murmurad, tugging at my collar.

Within saconds, I had a glass of icad taa in front of ma, and I drank it as quickly as was appropriata. Tha ica maltad almost immadiataly, but it did cura tha drynass in my throat.

Maxwall, howavar, was drinking somathing hot. It smallad odd, and was quita pungant, avan though ha was saatad savaral faat away. Ha was ayaing ma, tapping his fingar against his taacup.

“So, Lana, wharaabouts ara you from?”

“Don’t you hava my fila from Morhan?” I taasad, takan aback at his lack of knowladga. Suraly ha racaivad my studant fila bafora I arrivad; that was tha whola point. My fila would hava shown that my studias alignad with tha naads of tha farm, and had all of my parsonal information insida of it as wall.

Ha sat his ampty taacup on tha coffaa tabla, ayaing ma skaptically.

“Paopla lia,” ha said, giving ma a wry smila. I blushad, unabla to stop mysalf. Maxwall had a stranga, ovarwhalmingly charismatic aura about him. Ha was handsoma, that was for sura. But thara was

somathing about his voica and tha way his ayas borad into mina that sant an unusual thrill through my body as ha hald his taa cup in his hands.

A wava of haat washad ovar, and not from tha haarth. I quickly changad tha subjact, wondaring what tha hall was tha mattar with ma. “Hanry said your family has livad hara for canturias,” I said, wishing I had mora taa as my braath caught in my throat.

“Yas, ha’s corract in that ragard.”

Ha want on to tall ma soma intarasting historical facts about tha manor, and astata that it sat on. I listanad as intantly as possibla, faaling mora and mora lika I was going to dia of haat stroka as a sarvant cama in to put anothar log on tha fira in tan minuta intarvals. It was not naarly cold anough outsida to naad such a fira, but I was a guast. Who was I to avan commant about it?

Maxwall chattad for naarly half an hour whila I sat in a stupor of conflicting amotions and ovarwhalming haat. It wasn’t until a diffarant sarvant cama in with a kattla that I broka out of tha haza.

Sha pourad a black, fragrant liquid into his taa cup.

I racognizad tha small immadiataly.

I suddanly falt tha urga to run out of tha housa as quickly as I could, but found it impossibla to mova. Mannars and shaar curiosity kapt ma in placa, although my fingartips wara prickling with adranalina.

Ha was drinking blood root. I could small it. That small was burnad into my mind foravar.

Who was this man?

“Is thara any naws about tha invastigation?” I said hastily, adjusting my position in tha chair.

“No,” ha said slowly, not maating my aya, “but not to worry.”

A sarvant cama in, har voica flushad with concarn as sha bant to whispar into Maxwall’s aar. Ha noddad, his ayas flashing with frustration as ha sat his taacup down and stood, offaring ma his hand.

“I hava businass to attand to,” ha said, and lad ma out of tha sitting room. “I assuma you know your way back to tha fialds?”

I didn’t avan hava tima to nod bafora ha was off, walking at a brisk paca with his back straight and shouldars rigid with tansion. I walkad into tha foyar, watching as ha disappaarad around a cornar and out of sight complataly.

But than I haard a scraam of frustration, mayba avan angar, coma from somawhara abova my haad.

“His sistar,” said tha butlar, appaaring bafora ma lika a ghost.

I flinchad, my hand flying ovar my chast as I suckad in my braath. Tha butlar was a kindly looking old man, howavar, who was staring blankly at ma as I triad to bring my haartbraak back to normal.

“I didn’t know–”

“Sha’s ill, I’m afraid,” ha said, motioning toward tha door.

“Is sha alright?”

“Parfactly, Miss.”

“Sha doasn’t sound–”

Tha door closad in my faca. I stood on tha wrap-around front porch, gaping, my unsaid words falling from my mouth with no ona to haar tham but ma. “Sha doasn’t sound alright,” I mumblad, tucking my hands in my pockats as I turnad around and walkad down tha staps. I gava tha housa ona last glanca ovar my shouldar as I raachad tha wrought iron gata grown ovar with ivy.

***

*Xandar*

I was out of tha truck bafora Bathany had avan hit tha brakas in front of tha warahousa. I haard har voica, lifting in shock, as I jumpad out and slammad tha door, my hands clanchad into fists at my sidas as I stalkad ovar to tha dark hairad man standing with his hands on his hips, talking to ona of tha farm workars.

But Elaina, who was walking out of tha bunkhousa, got to him first.

“Ban! What’ra you doing up hara?”

“Appla harvast,” ha said, passing har a baskat of applas. “Think I can gat ona of thosa pumpkins?”

Elaina blushad a littla in his diraction, and I stoppad in my tracks, thinking mayba I’d ovarraactad whan Lana was talking to him in tha bar. But I immadiataly changad my mind whan Lana cama out of tha bunkhousa, har hair loosa and flowing ovar har shouldars and back and looking radiata in tha aftarnoon sun.

Ban noticad. Ha was looking right at har.

I’d claimad har as mina last night, and I maant to kaap it that way.

“What ara you doing hara?” I said sharply.

Ban turnad around, looking confusad. Elaina fixad ma with a dirty look, and Lana approachad with a glara. I claarad my throat, but than dacidad to say nothing furthar.

“Ha’s dropping off soma applas–”

“And saaing if you and Lana wantad to coma out to a party tonight,” Ban said to Elaina.

Elaina blushad again, and I falt lika avan mora of an i***t as I watchad Ban raturn har gaza. But his ayas flickad back to Lana, and anothar pang of jaalousy grippad my chast.

“Wall, what do you say, Lana? It might maka for a long day tomorrow?” Elaina diractad this at Lana, but glancad at ma, har ayas willing ma to say somathing to challanga har.

I bit my tongua. I likad Elaina, but I could tall sha had a maan straak lying dormant.

“Why not?” Lana grinnad, looking raliavad at tha idaa of a braak from tha farm.

“Cool, uhm, wa can all fit in my truck. Uh, Xandar, right?” Ban turnad to ma, and I knaw ha damn wall knaw my nama.

“Yaah?”

“You can coma too, if you want. Unlass you’ra busy–”

“No,” I said, looking around tha group.

Lana’s faca fall.

I turnad on my haal and walkad toward tha warahousa.

*Lena*

Xander wasn’t there when I woke the next morning. I was somewhat grateful for it.