Page 18 of Sold to Three Alpha Kings

Me? A slave girl? How?

Will they even accept me?

What kind of sick joke is nature playing with me?

“It’s her,” Sinth says, his voice tinged with mild amusement even though his expression doesn’t change. “She’s our…”

“Don’t.” The mean King shuts him down in an instant.

I watch it happen in real time—watch whatever briefly cracked open behind those ice-pale eyes seal itself shut again, fast and total.

“Don’t you dare finish that statement.” His voice is quieter than before.

“What?” The sarcastic King folds his arms across his broad chest. “Too afraid to face the truth that’s right in front of you?”

“I hate it when you make jokes about serious things, Wayne.”

Sinth. Wayne. Their names are now registered at the back of my mind.

“Don’t blame me. Fate’s the one with the cruel sense of humor,” he replies, a small grin tugging at his lips.

A brief pause.

“A King’s mate,” the mean King says, each word measured, deliberate, aimed at me like a blade, “could never be a shiftless, wolfless human. I refuse to be bound to something so weak.”

The silence that follows is the loudest thing I’ve ever heard.

I wait—some small, stupid, hopeful part of me waits—for Sinth to object. For Wayne to laugh it off, to say something reckless and contrary to these hurtful words.

Unfortunately, neither of them does. They stand there, both of them, saying nothing, and their silence is its own kind of verdict.

I have been despised my whole life. My father’s disgust, my stepmother’s cruelty, my brother’s contempt, an entire village that sneered behind my back. I thought I understood what it felt like to be worthless.

I didn’t. Not until this moment.

Because this is different; these are my own fated mates—the three people my body apparently recognized before my mind had any say in the matter.

They looked straight at me and decided, in front of soldiers and corpses, that I am not worth the trouble of wanting.

Something in my chest goes very quiet. Very still.

I feel the last soft, breakable part of myself curl up small and go cold.

Maybe I’m the problem.

Maybe I’m cursed, and that’s why nobody wants me. Not even my own fated mates.

That stings more than anything else in the world, and before I can stop myself, I’m already in tears.

Chapter 6 - Chris

My scowl deepens as I glare at the redhead, refusing to accept that this shiftless slave is the fated mate I have to share with Sinth and that idiot Wayne.

How’s this even possible? She’s not a wolf, let alone an Omega, and that’s why she was imbued with fake pheromones. So how come such a fragile and weak creature turned out to be the mate of three powerful Alpha Kings?

This must be some kind of sick joke. For once, I actually agree with Wayne. Fate indeed has a cruel sense of humor. She stands before us with tears in her eyes—tears that seem to have softened both Sinth and Wayne.

But I’m not buying it. I don’t believe that she is what she claims to be, even though the signs are glaring. There has to be a mix-up somewhere. I can’t be fated to a weak, wolfless fraud, regardless of whether or not she’s beautiful.