The Lycan King's Breeder

Leah

My father is drunk again.

I can tell just by looking at my brothers. They’re sitting in our overgrown front yard waiting for me.

Eight-year old Jack has a blue eye, a thin trickle of blood runs down nine-year old Bryson’s split upper lip, and twelve-year old Gayton, the oldest of the three, is trying to wrap his short, thin arms around both of them.

I walk up to our front gate that hangs on by a single hinge. I unlatch it, and carefully lift the gate open. I’ll have to try to fix it this weekend.

“What happened?” I ask my brothers, and kneel in front of them.

“Lee,” Jack sobs and throws himself forward into my arms.

Poor boy.

“Dad took the lunch money you gave us,” Gayton explains. “I- I’m sorry, Lee, Jacky went to Mister Davis’s shop and he caught him stealing.”

“Did Mister Davis phone the police?”

“No, he took the food and phoned Dad to ask him why his children are stealing.”

Shit. Stupid asshole. Why didn’t he call me instead?

Joshua Davis is an exiled werewolf, like us. He knows our father has a drinking problem and a violent temper. He should know better. “I’ll go talk to Mister Davis,” I say. “Is Dad drunk?”

“Yes,” Gayton replies. “He should be passed out by now.”

I wrap my worn out cardigan around my shoulders before I dig into my old purse, sliding my fingers into the torn lining where I hide money from my father. I withdraw a few bills and hand them to Gayton. “Take the boys to the fish and chips,” I order my brother. “Eat before you come home.”

Gayton looks at the money in his hands. “There isn’t enough to get you anything.”

“I ate at the restaurant,” I lie.

My brother is old enough to know when an adult is lying to him, but he’s also still young enough to accept the lie, and he doesn’t argue.

I am a nineteen-year-old Alpha’s daughter. Well, ex-Alpha. My father lost his territory to a rival five years ago. The Alpha had heard that my father was keeping a breeder to himself. Sandra, my mother, was already dead by the time the Alpha invaded. She died while giving birth to a baby brother I would never get to know.

My father rented her womb out to other wolves around the area, and they bred her to death.

In all, she gave birth to ten living children. I have no idea where my six half-siblings are, but I hope they have a better life than we do.

Instead of leaving, Alpha Dimitri decimated our pack, took our territory, and exiled us to live in this backwards little town in the middle of nowhere.

I walk up our cracked walkway with the weeds going through it, and open the door with the faded, peeling, blue paint.

My wish was always to get away from my father, but I can’t leave my brothers here alone. I have to wait until Jack, the youngest, is at least sixteen. Gayton is already starting to look around for packs that will accept rogues as warriors, and he hopes to take our brothers with him when he goes.

But that’s still three years away at least.

Dressed in only a pair of boxers, Caleb, my spineless father, sleeps on the threadbare couch, snoring like a broken tractor.

Ravaged by alcohol, he looks much older than forty-two. His black hair is greying and his once muscular chest now reminds me of a chicken. Every time he inhales, his chest hollows out, showing all his ribs. His skin is yellowing, and he has a big, round belly, that makes me think his liver is starting to give out on him.

Goddess, I hope it does. Soon.

I hang my cardigan over the coat hook by the door and go through the mail Gayton put on the table for me.

Just more bills. I have no idea where I’m supposed to get the money to pay it all. We are thousands upon thousands of dollars in debt. My father keeps racking up the bills. He doesn’t work. He gambles and he drinks. And somehow, he expects me to make ends meet with my meagre waitressing salary.

I pick up the last letter. It’s from the fertility doctor.

Most werewolf females are born sterile. I went to get the tests done weeks ago, hoping that I could sell my services as a breeder to get us out of debt.

When I didn’t hear from them, I assumed the worst and forgot about it.

I tear the manila envelope open and stare at the results of my tests. Some small part of me, okay a big part, had hoped that it would be negative. At least then, the option would be off the table completely, and I could go on with my life knowing that I couldn’t go that route.

It’s a lengthy report, and I don’t understand half of what I’m reading. It’s meant for the buyers or the owners of breeder houses, not for barely educated waitresses like me. But I do understand the part where it shows that I have an eighty-eight percent chance of getting pregnant and carrying a pregnancy to term.

I glance at my snoring father. His jaw is slack, and a string of spit hangs from his lips.

I fold the envelope in half and slip it into my used-up purse. The moment my father finds out I’m a breeder, he’ll have wolves lining up outside to impregnate me.

It will be better for me if I take control of the situation myself. But taking control means leaving my brothers behind.

It should be easy. As the fertility rates keep dropping, the Alphas are getting more desperate. It would be better to sell myself to an Alpha, than allow my father to sell me every two-bit Omega at fifty dollars a pup.

I’ll find a rich Alpha or two, and sell my services once, maybe twice. I’ll make enough money to get my brothers away from my father, and we can start over somewhere else.