Breeder To The Brutal Alpha King

​Kaden’s POV

​When I finally pulled out of her with a soft, wet sound, a heavy mix of my seed and her wetness coated my thick shaft.

​I moved my weight, sitting back on the edge of the large mattress. Rebecca fell onto her side, completely tired out.

​Under the deep red glow of the room, her body looked completely broken—spotted with dried drops of dark red candle wax, wet with melted ice water, and covered in the bright red handprints from my slaps. She was panting, her chest moving up and down as her fingers twitched against the sheets where the ties had just been.

​I knew exactly what she needed right now. Aftercare.

​Every dominant knew the rules of this room. After a session this rough, the body crashes. The nervous system feels shocked. She needed to be held, cleaned, and comforted. But as I stared down at her flushed, shaking skin, a cold wall of stubborn logic hit my mind.

​She is a slave, I reminded myself, locking my jaw as the harsh truth of our situation fought against the heavy pull in my chest. A breeder. A tool to give me a baby. Why the fuck should I comfort her?

​I began to get up from the bed, fully planning to leave her there in the dark to clean herself up. But before my feet could even touch the floor, a sharp, physical pain shot directly through my chest. It felt like a knife twisting between my ribs—a strange ache that had nothing to do with my own body and everything to do with the quiet, shivering girl behind me.

​My logic completely washed away, melting under a sudden urge to protect her that shocked me.

​”Fuck,” I growled under my breath.

​Without letting myself think, I turned back and scooped her up into my arms. Rebecca didn’t even have the strength to fight me; her limp, heavy body simply fell against my chest, her forehead resting against my neck as she let out a hot, tired breath.

​I carried her across the cold floor and into the bathroom next door, where the marble tub sat waiting. I turned the gold handles, letting warm water fill the tub before gently lowering her into the heat.

​I knelt beside the edge of the tub, my expensive pants soaking up the spilled water on the tiles, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I grabbed a soft washcloth, rubbed it with thick, sweet-smelling soap, and began to clean her body with a gentleness that felt entirely strange to my hands.

​I wiped away the dried streaks of red wax, watching the warm water melt the red flakes away. I cleaned the sticky signs of our lovemaking from her inner thighs, my large hands soothing the sensitive, red skin where the leather cuffs and metal bar had locked her open. Rebecca stayed completely silent through it all, her long eyelashes throwing dark shadows against her pale cheeks, her eyes closed as she let the warm water bring her back to life.

​I couldn’t believe what I was doing. I, kneeling on a bathroom floor like a servant, washing a captive who had dared to challenge me only an hour ago.

​Once she was clean, I lifted her out of the water, wrapping her in a thick, soft towel. I carried her back into the dim bedroom, laying her gently on her stomach across the clean sheets. From the nightstand drawer, I pulled out a jar of cooling cream meant to soothe red skin from slaps.

​I scooped a large amount of the clear cream onto my fingers and began to rub it into the round parts of her ass. The skin was still burning, covered in the deep red marks of my palms and the heavy hits of the leather paddle. As my cool fingers worked the medicine into her sore skin, her body slowly relaxed, the tightness melting out of her shoulders. Within minutes, her breathing became even and deep as she fell fast asleep.

​I pulled the heavy blanket up over her shoulders, tucking her in safely, and stepped back.

​I stood there in the dark, staring down at her beautiful, peaceful face. The fierce, defiant girl who had dared me to make her was gone, replaced by a fragile, breathtaking woman sleeping under my roof.

​”What the hell is wrong with me?” I whispered into the empty room, running a hand through my messy hair.

​I left the bedroom, taking a quick, freezing shower in the hall bathroom to wash her scent off my skin and clear the fog from my brain. But when I dressed in dark sweatpants and walked back into her room, the urge to leave was completely gone. I sat down in the leather chair beside the bed, pulling a small stool over to rest my feet, and simply watched her sleep.

​A ridiculous, scary thought entered my mind. I want to make her happy.

​It was completely crazy. Why would a king want to bring joy to the very person who caused him so much pain and misery? She was my wife-killer. Yet, seeing her tiny body buried under my blankets made me want to take away all her tiredness and reward her.

​Before I could talk myself out of it, I closed my eyes and pushed my thoughts into the pack’s private mind-link network.

​Logan, I called my Beta, my voice echoing with absolute kingly power through his head.

​There was a short pause on the other end before Logan’s alert, professional voice answered. I am here, Alpha King. What are your orders?

​Those prisoners, I ordered coldly. The male who helped Stephanie. Move him from the dark dungeons right away. He is to work at the heavy building site for six months. If he survives the hard labor and keeps his head down, he is a free man. Release him from pack custody completely after that.

​Silence stretched over the mind-link, heavy and thick with confusion. Logan was a seasoned warrior, and he knew my rule for rebels was usually death or permanent slavery. Alpha King? he asked, his mind voice filled with pure shock. Are you sure? He was directly part of—

​Did I stutter, Beta? I snapped, cutting him off before he could question my choice. Move him by morning. Also, I want Stephanie let out of the dungeon right away.

​Stephanie? Logan sounded completely confused now, his mental defenses dropping in his surprise.

​Yes. Tell the head maid that Stephanie is to be put back on the palace staff right now. However, she is strictly banned from working in the normal rooms. She is to work only as the personal maid to my breeder. She will handle Rebecca’s meals, her rooms, and her daily needs. No one else touches her.

​Alpha King... with all respect, the palace staff will see this as being way too soft, Logan said, trying to hold his ground. They already hate Rebecca living in the royal wing. Putting her friend back to serve her like a queen will cause gossip among the rich pack families.

​I clenched my fist against my knee, looking over at Rebecca’s sleeping body. I needed a good excuse—a ruthless, logical cover story that would satisfy my Beta and protect my pride so I wouldn’t look weak.

​I don’t give a fuck about the gossip, Logan, I growled through the link, putting a dangerous edge into my thoughts. I am doing this because I do not trust the other maids in this palace. You know as well as I do that they all hate Rebecca. If I leave her care to a random servant, they might poison her food, ignore her, or cause her extra stress.

​Stress keeps her from getting pregnant, I went on, making the lie sound perfect. The royal doctor explicitly told me that to get a strong, healthy baby quickly, she must be kept in the best mood, completely happy, and in perfect physical shape. Her current sad mood is bad for the pack’s future. Stephanie is the only person in this palace I know for a fact won’t hurt her. I am protecting my investment. Do you understand?

​The logic made total sense. It made my kindness look like a smart move to get her pregnant faster.

​I understand, Alpha King, Logan replied, his tone smoothing over as he accepted the explanation. The moves will be made before the sun comes up.

​I broke the mental connection, the quiet of the bedroom rushing back to fill my ears. I leaned forward in the leather chair, resting my elbows on my knees as I stared back at Rebecca.

​A small, real smile tugged at the corner of my lips—a soft look that had absolutely no business being on the face of a harsh ruler. I could already imagine the look on her face when she wakes up tomorrow. I could see those sharp, angry dark eyes getting wide in disbelief when she finds her favorite maid standing at the bottom of her bed instead of a guard. I could imagine the way that tiny, winning spark in her smile would come back, lighting up her whole face.

​I couldn’t wait to see it.

​The realization hit me like a splash of ice-cold water. I froze, my smile disappearing as the weight of my own thoughts hit my chest.

​”I’m doing this so she’ll be healthy,” I muttered out loud to the empty room, my voice sounding desperate as I tried to convince myself. ”It’s just for the baby. The healer said she needs to be in a good mood to get pregnant early. It’s to my advantage.”

​But as the words left my mouth, they felt empty. They felt like a fake story, a big shield built to hide a truth I wasn’t ready to face.

​And Why did it sound like I was lying to myself?