The Lycan King’s Defiant Surrogate by Riley Above Story (Chapters 11 to 20)

Chapter 11

“And Tristan…” Calebs adds.

“Yes, my King?”

“Summon the doctors once again. I want to find out exactly what happened to Harper’s wolf.”

I try to listen to their continued conversation. Yet even as fear grips my heart, I struggle to keep my eyes open. Whatever is in that IV is good stuff. Too soon, I drift off back into unconsciousness.

When I wake up again, I am alone in my bed. Calebs, Tristan, and IV are all gone, though the telltale wound in my arm tells me that the IV’s disappearance is a fairly recent development.

I’m naked again, not that this surprises me anymore. At least, my body feels no more sore than usual. I don’t think Caleb claimed me again while I was out.

Rolling out of bed, I stand and head to my dresser. Today will be a busy day for me. I haven’t forgotten the conversation overheard about the bear clan attacking my pack. I need to act quickly to be sure that didn’t happen. That meant finding some way to contact Samuel.

I pulled open the drawers, expecting to see the same dresses as yesterday. Those clothes were gone. In their place were a selection of loose-fitting, revealing silks. Checking the underwear drawer, it is now empty.

Where are the other clothes? I searched the other drawers I skipped and then into the cubby holes of the wardrobe itself. There are some chain jewelry, rings with gemstones, and elaborate hair ties and combs.

No clothes that cover more than a bikini would. No panties. No bras.

I have no other options. Unless I want to walk around naked, this will have to do.

Selecting a turquoise silk top and pants, I try to figure out how to put it on. After three failed attempts, I managed to cover all of my private parts.

The top hangs like a tank top, but it scoops low in the front and back, barely covering my breasts. The bottoms are short shirts with a long sort of silky belt that dangles loosely down the back.

Just as I stand, someone knocks on the door.

It unlocks and swings open without me giving permission. Tristan stands outside of it, giving me that same bored expression as always. He doesn’t seem at all surprised by my new outfit.

“Follow,” Tristan says, and turns. Like always, I hurry to follow him.

Back on the staircase, we travel upwards this time, round and round so much I feel dizzy. We’re so high up, that I start to wonder if we’ve breached surface level. As we step out into the hallway, I can see that we have.

The rooms here have actual windows. Beyond them are trees and sunshine. The light burns my sensitive eyes but I look anyway. Freedom sits on the other side of these walls.

It might as well be on the face of the moon, however…

“This way,” Tristan says, when I fall too far behind.

He leads me down another corridor and then to a pair of great double doors. Pushing them open, we enter into a large empty chamber- a hall, with a throne sitting atop a lifted stone platform to one side.

Caleb sits on his throne.

The room is otherwise empty.

“Come forward,” Caleb calls.

Tristan stays behind the door. It’s clear Caleb is talking to me.

Swallowing thickly, I enter the chamber. As I draw closer, Caleb’s eyes drag down the front of my body. He smirks, seemingly pleased with my choice of attire.

“The slave garments fit you. Good.”

Slave garments!!

Wait. Yes, now that he says that, I do remember him mentioning something about this last night, right before I gave in to unconsciousness.

What did he say!

That I was to be his personal slave.

When I’m at the base of the platform, he stares down at me from on high.

“Kneel,” he commands.

Every instinct within me wants to fight him, but I know I have no power here. If I’m going to find a way to contact Samuel, I have to play nice. Else I might find myself trapped in that terrible dungeon again.

Pushing down my pride, just as I did each time with Leah, I lowered myself down to my knees.

Once I’m settled, Caleb stands. Snatching something off a nearby table he comes toward me. As he comes closer, I can see he’s holding a simple silver banded collar with a latch on the back. Immediately, I cower away.

“Raise your head,” he commands. “Stretch out your neck.”

Stomach twisting uncomfortably, I do as he asks, lifting my head.

He presses the collar around my neck and then latches it closed. It’s cold against my skin. I’m already freezing in this revealing outfit, but now to wear flat metal to my skin?

I’ll be lucky I don’t die of frostbite by the end of the week

With the collar latched on me, Caleb leans back to admire his work. He traces a single finger over the collar. Gently, just once, it brushes against my skin

“You look much better now, slave,” he says, grinning. With a sigh, he leans back. “Now, you must earn your place. My personal slaves wait on my every whim. You can start by bringing me coffee.

An annoying request to be sure, but not the worst I anticipated. Not even close.

“At once,” I say and push myself up onto my feet.

“So obedient,” he says, pleased.

1 head out the way I came. Tristan, by direction or out of pity, still stands there in the hallway and directs me toward the kitchen without my having to ask.

In the kitchen, a slew of servants and slaves mill about, making food, cleaning, and preparing coffee. No one looks at me as I enter. No one speaks, even when I try to ask questions.

“I need coffee for the King–I say.

An older woman finally takes pity on me. She grabs a mug off a shelf and pushes me toward a coffee pot.

“Thank you,” I tell her, but she holds a finger to her lips. Silently, I nod, understanding.

Likely, they could be punished for speaking out of turn.

Coffee in hand, I leave the kitchen and start to head back toward the hall. Halfway there, I turn to a corner and then freeze in my tracks.

Caleb is there, leaning back against the wall of the hallway. A woman wearing a see-through top and lace panties pressed herself against him. Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt one by one, revealing the top of his collarbone.

My throat went dry. Damn, he’s so sexy.

Yet, at the same time, a flash of hot anger flushes through me. don’t want to see this!

I spin on my heel and start to run in the other direction. The coffee is spilling, jumping out of the sides of the mug, but I don’t care. I have to get away.

A hand closes around my arm, stopping me before I can get too far.

I sprinted.

It’s. Caleb?!

Did he notice me watching?

I hold up the coffee cup further down the hall.

The coffee cup protectively put a barrier between us. He grabs the mug, then throws it, smashes it on the floor, and clatters it to pieces.

“Where are you running?” he demands.

“I’m not!”

“Bullshit! You saw me and her… ah. Suddenly his anger ebbs, “You saw me with one of my harem. You’re jealous!”

“I am not,” I snap. “I would never dare to be interested in someone like you. I know my place! A slave wouldn’t dare covet the Lycan King!”

Caleb growls as he yanks me closer. I collide with his chest, gasping from the force of it.

Dipping his head, he covers my open mouth with his own.

No! Not again!

Unwilling, I try to close my mouth to keep out his tongue.

In doing so, I bit his lip so hard, it bleeds.

Chapter 12

Slowly, Caleb lifts his fingers and touches his lip. Pulling back, he sees the blood on his fingertips.

Panic settles over Harper. She hadn’t meant to actually hurt him. What’s the punishment for this? Is she going to be killed?

She still has to warn her pack.

Caleb raises his gaze from his bloodied finger up to Harper’s face. His expression is entirely emotional for one long moment. Then the anger sets in.

“You bit me,” he says, voice low and dangerous.

“It was an accident,” I say at once.

His eyes narrow. “You defy me. You deny me your kiss,

I raise my hands, palms forward, hoping to appease him. He storms forward regardless, grabs me by the shoulders, and shakes me.

“You will obey me absolutely. Do you understand? You are my slave. This is a favor to you. For committing the heinous crime of stealing away my child, I should have you locked away and forgotten. Do you not feel gratitude?”

In the face of his angry rant, I don’t know what to say.

You will learn it,” he growls.

He fiercely shoves me away. Off balance, I stumble and fall down on my ass. I’m not hurt, but my pride is wounded.

Caleb storms away, back down the hallway he came from. “Get her out of my sight,” he snaps at Tristan.

Tristan doesn’t move until Caleb disappears around the corner. Once he’s gone, Tristan comes forward. looks down at the state of me. He seems annoyed by this entire endeavor.

“On your feet, then.”

I push myself up, trying to reclaim some dignity as I stand.

You made him mad again,” Tristan says.

“Sorry.”

With a sigh, he said…

“He won’t want to see you for a while, but it will do no good to send you back to your rooms. By the time you reach there, he’ll likely call you straight back.” Tristan rubs his forehead. “Go and wait in the kitchen instead. Stay out of the way and don’t cause trouble. I send for you when he can stand the sight of you again.”

“Thank you,” I replied, if only because he was saving me from those terrible stairs,

“I’m not doing any of this for you,” he grumbles.

I decide not to press the issue. I turn and start heading to the kitchen.

Veronica is wearing that sheer top that Caleb likes so much. Any other day, he’d tear off her flimsy panties, push her up against the wall of the hallway, and make her scream his name.

Right now, when he returns to the spot where he left her, however, he doesn’t want to fuck her. Instead, he wants to break something.

“There you are, Veronica says, batting her long, fake lashes. She runs a hand along the side of her large breast, drawing my gaze there. I’ve been so lonely without you, my King.

Caleb admires that bare breast. Its size and weight and the little bud of a nipple have roused his interest many, many times in the past.

He wants to be aroused. He wants to fuck away the fury that’s building inside of him.

Instead, he looks away, growing bored with the sight. Maybe Veronica’s breasts aren’t so tantalizing anymore. He’s grown. bored with his women in the past. Veronica might just be the next to fall.

“My King?” she asks, surprised.

“Get out of my sight,” Caleb replies.

Veronica knows better than to disobey my direct command. She scurries away, disappearing without further word from Caleb.

She’s not like Harper. That vile, disobedient woman who looked up at him so defiantly and rejected him.

Caleb has only ever been adored by women. He’s never faced rejection before. The sting of it burns within him, unnerving him and clawing away at his pride.

He desires Harper in a way that Veronica could not rile in him. Even now, with Harper’s defiance, Caleb thinks of slamming his dick into her warm folds. She’s the one he wants to bend over. He wants to make her beg.

Frustrated, Caleb pushes his way back into his hall. He storms up to his throne and throws himself down into it.

A few moments later, Tristan nonchalantly follows. He approached Caleb, stopping in front of him at the base of the platform. He doesn’t say a word, but Caleb can hear him thinking. Again.

“I don’t care for her, Caleb snaps, suspecting Tristan’s thoughts this time.

“I didn’t say a word, my King.”

“You were thinking it.”

Tristan doesn’t deny it.

“She’s playing hard to get,” Caleb says. “She thinks that will earn her my favor. It won’t. I hate being disobeyed, and I’ll make her suffer for it.”

“Of course, my King,” Tristan says. His passive expression sometimes irritated Caleb, though it was useful against their enemies. If no one can tell what Tristan is thinking, then no one will suspect him. Caleb doesn’t like not knowing, however.

“You doubt me?” Caleb demands.

“She’s waiting in the kitchen when you are ready to see her again, Tristan says.

“You didn’t dismiss her?”

“I didn’t feel that was necessary.”

Caleb narrows his eyes.

Tristan shrugs. “I thought you might like to punish her sooner rather than later, my

“A good idea,” Caleb agrees. “I believe I sent her for coffee…”

“Prepare coffee for the King,” Tristan says to me, sticking his head into the kitchen.

“Right,” I say, bouncing up from my chair in the corner. Honestly, I thought I would be waiting much longer, but I’m not going to hesitate, not if it can get me back on Caleb’s good side. I really didn’t want to be locked in my room again so soon.

With haste, I pour a fresh cup of coffee and then leave the kitchen.

By the time I step outside, Tristan is gone. But I think I remember my way back to the hall now. I’m doing well, I think, until… I turn a corner.

That same woman who had been all over Caleb earlier is standing in the middle of the hallway. She has an opaque robe draped over her now, thank the goddess. I’d rather not stare at this woman’s bare breasts.

I move to step around her. Immediately, she steps into my path and blocks my way.

Okay, maybe that was an accident. We could be dancing around each other as people sometimes do on accident when they meet in a hallway.

I step the other way. She moves again…

Okay. Now I think she might just be being a bitch.

Looking up, I see the glare she’s shooting my way. She looks like she wants to cut off my head and dance around with it.

Let her try. I’ve got scalding hot coffee here.

You are that despicable new slave,” she says, with open disdain in her voice. “The one who secretly birthed Caleb’s child and then hid it away

“No, I…-”

The woman strikes me with an open palm across my face. It’s more startling than painful and leaves me in shock for a moment.

“I’m Veronica, King Caleb’s favored consort. You will learn who I am and you will learn your place here.” Her face scrunches in rage the longer she looks at me, the longer I don’t have a reaction. “How dare you give birth to Caleb’s child before me?!”

Chapter 13

“Guard!” Veronica calls, her voice shrill.

At once, a set of guards rush down the hallway toward us, their tiles in their hands. One has a sword tied to his belt. Another, a whip.

Veronica continues to glare at me, even as a smug smile curves her lips. Pointing straight at me, she commands. This slave has offended me. I demand retribution. Take her out and torture her for her insolence”

Her arrogance makes her laugh until she realizes that the guards aren’t making any moves against me.

I’m still holding Caleb’s coffee. Glancing down at it, I say, “King Caleb ordered this from me. I should deliver it.”

Veronica smacks the mug straight out of my hand. It smashes into the wall and then drips down to the ground. That’s the second mug today. I silently apologize to whoever has to clean that up

Looking back at Veronica, I now see her as the bully, she truly is. With none of the guards moving against me, I feel emboldened, maybe more than I should be.

“I’ll need to get more now.” I start to turn around.

See how she mocks me!” Veronica glares. “Do something already, gods dammit!”

One of the guards, a younger man with acne on his chin steps forward. He’s shorter than the other guards, but his gun makes me stop in my tracks. He’s still much taller than me.

To the other guards, he says, “I saw this slave arguing with the King earlier. She’s likely fallen out of favor…”

“She never had any favor,” Veronica snaps. “Take her to the whipping post. I want to see her pretty back riddled with blood.”

“At once, ma’am,” the young guard says. Stepping forward, he shoulders his gun but grabs me roughly. His gloves have metal claws on the ends. The tips cut into my skin, keeping me from running, but not from struggling.

I really don’t want to be whipped.

The guard, young as he is, is still stronger than me. He drags me along without much effort.

The other guards do not move an inch, not helping, but not stopping this either.

“Cowards” Veronica scoffs at them. She follows along behind the young guard and me.

The guard drags me through some hallways. I’ve never been there and then out a doorway into the outside. I squeeze my eyes shut, the sudden sunshine burning my eyes. At the same time, I fiercely shiver, the biting winter cold prickling into all of my bare skin.

The sidewalk by the door is uneven. Given my blindness, I can’t see the step and stumble. The guard continues holding me, though he makes no effort to save me from falling.

I do, knocking my head off the sidewalk. I must have scraped it. Blood starts dripping down the side of my face.

Behind us, Veronica laughs. “Do it again. Throw her to the ground.”

The guard doesn’t obey. He just keeps moving forward, dragging me along. Eventually, we reach a pit in the courtyard. There’s sand on the ground, with a few raised pillars jutting up like the devil’s fingers from the dirt. Chains dangle from each of the pillars.

The guard drags me into the pit and then unceremoniously throws me down into the dirt. I roll, collecting sand in unseemly places. My top drags catching on a rock and it breaks free.

Immediately. I try to cover myself. I don’t know how many people are watching me being publicly exposed.

Looking around, I can see they are gathering quite a crowd. Gods, servants, slaves, and harem members all stop to peer into the pit and at me, low and pitiful, dirty on the ground.

“Chain her to a pillar, Veronica says. “Someone bring me a whip. Looking around, she seems pleased by the gathering of the crowd.

Look at her, everyone. See what happens to the slave that dares disrespect the King’s favorite.

I want to scream from the top of my lungs that I never had any baby with Caleb or anyone else, but at this point, I doubt if that would do any good. Veronica would likely see it as a sign of my continued insolence.

Not wanting to be whipped, though, I have to think of another way to save myself.

I search over the crowd, looking for any sympathetic face. I find nothing but dispassion, boredom, and worse still “excitement”. For some, this is entertainment.

I shiver again, this time not just from the cold. What kind of hell have I found myself taken to, where public torture and mockery make for an afternoon’s viewing pleasure?

Tears well in my eyes. I want to go home. I want Samuel and his arms. I’d even take the way things were, compared to this. Give me my attic, and my terrible sister.

I’ve been whipped before, beaten. But never in public. Never like this.

On shaky legs. I push myself upright. If she wants to whip me, she’s going to have to overpower me first. I’m not going to willingly turn my back.

Because I’m facing her, she cannot see before I do, when Caleb and Tristan step out into the courtyard. She has no way of knowing how his gaze sweeps over the view, how it snags on me, topless and dirty, and how it narrows then on her.

She continues to smirk at me, smug and overconfident, thinking she’s having her way.

Everyone else sees though. Silence falls upon the crowd.

Veronica, thinking her the champion in some great play, demands again, “Someone bring me a whip. How many lashes does this slave can have? Should we go by applause?”

“What,” Caleb says sharply, “ What do you think you are doing?”

Veronica’s face pales and she spins around. “M…–my King!” Veronica lowers her head in reverence.

Caleb glares down at her. Tristan stands a few feet back, his hand on the hilt of the blade tied to his hip.

“I ask once more, and only once more,” Caleb says, “What do you think you are doing here?”

“T…–this slave, my King-“Veronica motions toward me. “She insulted me… and then I hurt my hand when I slapped her. She needs to be punished…”

“You slapped her?” Caleb asks.

“She insulted me, Veronica says.

Caleb looks over to me. I feel the weight of his gaze on my head wound, then at my nakedness. I tighten my arms around myself, very aware of all the eyes on me.

“You’ve always given me permission to punish the slaves…” Veronica says. “It’s been within my rights.

“It was never your right” Galeb says, his voice as icy cold as the chill winter air. “Ever did I turn my head away out of my favor of you. That is no longer the case”

Veronica startles. Her head tilts up, reverence be damned. “My King?” There’s panic in her voice.

“Beta, Caleb says, calling Tristan forth. Tristan immediately steps forward to the side of his king. “Remove the name of this woman from my harem records. Make known that she is no longer favored in my house.”

Tristan bows his head. “At once, my King.”

Sensing his duty is done. Tristan backs up a few steps.

Caleb lifts his head, looking across the gathered crowd, then at me, where fresh fire ignites in his eyes. Then, his eyes find their way back to Veronica.

He holds his hand to the side. “Someone bring me a whip.

Chapter 14

Quickly, one of the guards procures a whip and places it into Caleb’s outstretched hand.

“M…–my King,” Veronica says quickly, terror making her voice wobble. “I’m confused. If you intend to honor me by whipping this slave, then why remove me as your favorite…?

Caleb narrows his eyes at Veronica. His grip tightens on the whip

Veronica continues to look up at him from where she’s bowing. Does she not see that she is the one in danger here? Has she been favored for so long that she cannot contemplate being treated as harshly as how she treats others?

Even as Caleb raises the whip, she looks on.

In a flash, he brings the whip down, cutting through her robes and into the skin of her back. Blood spills out, soaking through the tattered fabric.

She screams, curling into herself. “My King, w–why!!”

Caleb brings the whip down a second time, no less fiercely, tearing into her flesh for a second time.

She whimpers and cries, wailing loudly.

Caleb turns his nose up in disgust. Turning, he signals to one of his guards, who steps forward. Caleb hands him the whip.

Fifty lashes for each, Caleb says.

My stomach drops down to the ground. I am to be punished as well?

“Slave,” Caleb calls, motioned for me to move closer.

I can’t run. There are too many people around, too many guards with gun barrels tilted in my direction. If I attempt to escape, I could end up worse than punished – I might be killed.

Knowing I have no choice, I walk forward, taking place beside Veronica. I don’t kneel though. I keep standing, my head raised high. I’ve done nothing wrong. I won’t cower for it.

Caleb looks at me strangely. Tristan quickly steps forward, “Move behind the King, slave.”

“Oh…” I hurry forward, moving past Caleb and into his shadow.

Turning, I can see what he sees now: Veronica, wailing, her makeup streaking down her cheeks. Behind her, guards are removing the weapons and armor from the young guard who assisted Veronica in bringing me here. When he is without weapons, they strip off his shirt and force him to his knees beside Veronica.

The young guard says nothing. He simply grits his teeth and awaits his punishment.

With those to be punished in the proper positions, the guard with the whip begins bringing it down. Another guard beside him starts to count, “One. Two. Three…

Blood spills down onto the sand. Veronica screams herself hoarse. The young guard tries not to make a sound, but soon even he is grunting and moaning in pain.

The onlookers continue to watch the gruesome scene. Some seem disturbed, frowning or wincing with each strike. Most seem amused, however, with bloodthirsty grins.

The Capital is a terrible place, full of cruel people.

I really want to go home.

Caleb watches for only five strikes more, then he turns and begins to head back inside. Tristan gives me a knowing look, so I quickly fall into step behind Caleb. Tristan follows us both.

Inside, even with the door closed behind us, I can still hear the cuck of the whip and the screaming. Other slaves we pass keep their heads down, pretending not to hear. Their pale faces give them away.

When we return to the hall, Caleb glances over me. I’m topless, covering my breasts with my arms, and there’s blood dripping down the side of my face.

Caleb looks at Tristan. “Have someone clean this up.”

By this, I gather, he means me.

“At once.” Tristan gestures for me to follow him, so I do. We don’t go far, just back out into the hall and into another room a few doors down. It’s a small powder room with a large mirror and a sink, with a toilet separated from the rest of the room by a door. Before the mirror, sits a soft padded stool.

“Stay,” Tristan says and leaves me there.

Relieved to be alone, I plop down on the stool and breathe. I can still hear the screaming. I think I’ll hear it even after it stops, it will definitely haunt me in my nightmares tonight.

A moment later, another slave enters the chamber. Her garb is similar to mine but with an additional halter top under her silken tank top.

Perhaps she is favored to earn more clothing. Or maybe it’s the opposite. The King might prefer not to see her flesh. Regardless, she brings me a silken top exactly like the one that was destroyed. As I pull it on, she stops the sink and pours water into the basin. When it’s half–filled, she dips a washcloth in it and then begins cleaning my head wound.

She does not speak to me. Nor do I speak to her.

When she’s finished, she leaves. Through the open door, Tristan steps through. “It’s time to return.”

We reunite with Caleb in the hall. Now, he sits on the throne, but he is no longer alone. There’s a long line of people wishing to speak to him. Some bear gifts, hoping to curry his favor. Others discuss problems: rats infested their crops, leaving them without food for the winter. Another talks about overcrowding in their town’s jail.

Caleb listens and provides solutions to every problem.

Some of his solutions are kind: he will share his personal reserves with the hungry farmers.

Some are significantly less so: kill half the prisoners, and there will be room in the jails.

I watch, helpless and afraid, from the side of the room, standing beside Tristan.

The day slowly passes, and Caleb starts to grow visibly tired, rubbing at his temples.

At this. Tristan whispers to me, “King Caleb suffers from insomnia and paranoia due to not yet having found his mate.” I’ve heard of this. The older a werewolf gets, the more apt the condition becomes. Eventually, it will drive the werewolf to complete madness.

His headaches are the result of his lack of sleep,” Tristan says.

As Caleb pulls out his phone, one hand scrolling while the other rubs his head, an idea forms in my mind.

If I can get close enough. Maybe I can use that phone to contact Samuel and warn him about the bear attack. The King’s headaches might just give me the opportunity I would need.

“Has he ever been given a scalp massage before?” I ask.

Tristan glances at me sideways. “The King allows no massages. As you know, the werewolf’s neck is a vulnerable spot, even for someone as powerful as the Lycan King”

Quickly, Caleb’s condition worsens. He blatantly ignores the pleas of the last of the visitors. Standing there, he turns and grips the side of his throne, and pushes it so hard, it flies off the platform and collides with the stone ground.

Tristan immediately steps forward. “I’m afraid the King is now occupied,” he tells the visitors as he ushers them to the door. “You will have to return tomorrow to speak with him.”

The visitors, paled by the display of rage, are quick to flee from the room. When they are gone, Tristan closes the door, leaving him, King Caleb, and me alone.

Caleb’s shoulders heave, and he growls with each breath.

Gathering my courage, I walk forward, moving closer to him. “My King. If you would allow me, I may be able to help ease. your pain…

Caleb sharply faces me. His eyes are wild at first but regain focus as he looks at me. “You?”

“My sister has headaches.

Chapter 15

I don’t close my eyes, but I really, really want to. Fortunately, having been a servant to my sister Leah these past three years has helped train me to always present an outward poise, even when inwardly, I am disgusted and annoyed.

Tell me again how you wish to please me,” Calebs says, self–satisfied and smug.

A scalp massage would ease some of your tension and relieve your headache,” I explain. “It should give you some relief”

Caleb clucks his tongue. “Massages and relaxation techniques never work. If I wanted something like that, I could take ca of it myself

A massage has never worked for him, undoubtedly whoever was giving it, was doing it wrong. I want to tell him so, but I hold my tongue. Arguing with this king has not worked out well for me in the past. I doubt that will change at this moment.

Caleb hops down from the platform and closes the distance between us. “If you really want to help me relax. I know of other ways.

“Such as,?” I ask.

His grin widens devilishly, as his eyes darken. “Spread your thighs for me.”

Surprise floods through me. This isn’t a bedroom? It’s a hall! People could come in at any time.

Caleb flicks his gaze to the door where Tristan is. Tristan, seeming to understand the wordless command, steps out of the hall and closes the door behind him, leaving Caleb and I alone.

Instinctively, I take a step backward.

That triggers something in Caleb. At once, he surges forward, quicker than I can react, and throws his arms around me. His hands grab the globes of my ass. Squeezing, he yanks me against the rock-hard wall of his chest.

Panic in my voice, I protest, “There’s no bed!”

Keeping one hand firmly on my ass, Caleb raises the other to roughly cup my face, forcing me to keep looking at him.

“I don’t need a bed to claim you,” he growls. His dick twitches, hardening against my thigh. “Serve me, woman.”

Clawing me closer, he drags me to the base of the platform, then drops me onto it while he continues standing on the ground. It’s the perfect hip–height for him. He easily drapes over the top of me, pining me down. The alignment of his dick to my entrance would be perfect.

Immediately, I wish I had more clothes separating us.

The platform is polished wood, hard and cold against my back.

Caleb yanks open the flimsy front of my top, exposing my breasts for his hungry gaze. He immediately grabs them, groping at me with his strong, warm hands. His thumbs flick over my hardened nipples and I bite back a pulse of pleasure.

In my mind, I kept telling myself… I am not enjoying this.

I hate his name. I hate what he’s doing to me.

It feels terrible.

At least, it should feel terrible. That’s what I thought.

But the horrible truth is…, it–feels fucking immaculate.

I’ve never in my life been touched like this. Caleb isn’t being gentle, but even so, my body comes alive under his hands, feeling things that I’ve only dreamed of in my life.

I don’t want to feel these things with him. I want Samuel… but I enjoyed his every touch.

Caleb conquers my mouth with him, plunging his tongue past my lips. He takes it as he kisses me, stealing my breath and my thoughts away. He doesn’t even give me enough time to breathe.

I’m getting light-headed.

He snakes one of his hands into the slim space between us and slides it down into my bottoms. His fingers slide around my clit and he lightly squeezes and tugs.

I buck up, back bowing.

I hate him. I don’t want to respond to his touch, his heat.

My body doesn’t listen to reason. It aches and craves, desiring more from this man- as much as he’ll give and more. Even the muscles make my nipples harden and my pussy drip.

He grinds against me, the rough texture of his clothes scratching along my nakedness. I catch a moan in my throat, not allowing it forward.

My cursed body. betraying me like this!

I need to stop this. There has to be something I could do.

I place my hands on his shoulders. He’s too strong for me to shove away, even if I push with all my strength. Switching tactics, I wrap my arms around his neck inside. He allows himself to come closer, growling against me as he sloppily drags his mouth from mine down to my neck. He sucks in a mark, just under my ear.

I push my fingers up through his hair. I raise one hand higher than the other and start massaging his scalp.

With his hands occupied with my breast and clit, and his mouth-sucking marks on my neck, he does not appear to notice the gentle pressure I apply.

Gradually, his motions become sluggish. He turned his head to the side, mouth moving away from my skin. His hand slips off of my breast and he slumps.

He doesn’t move again.

Carefully, I lower my hands down to his shoulders and give him a gentle shake. When he has no reaction, I grow bolder and push, rolling him off of me. He flops down onto the platform beside me. Now with him on his back, I can see his eyes have drifted closed. He’s still breathing.

He’s asleep.

I can’t believe this worked. If only let me do the massage straight away.

Regardless, I have time now, Pushing myself upright, I adjust my clothes, restoring my modesty as much as I can with such -flimsy silk. Then, I pad his pockets, searching for the phone. I find it in his jacket pocket.

Hope in my throat, I lift it and click the button on the side that will align the screen.

Immediately, my hopes shrivel up and die right on the spot.

The phone is locked. It’s not even asking for a number code that I could try frantically to guess.

Instead, it requires retinal recognition to unlock.

I glance at Caleb. Surely if I try to pull back his eyelid that would be enough to wake him?

Despair rises in the place where hope is abandoned. This plan isn’t going to work. There’s nothing I can do.

Lowering the phone down onto the platform, I exhale a shaky breath. I have to think of something else, but what? Samuel and my pack are running out of time before the bear attacks. If I can’t get word to them, they’ll be caught.

Caleb may be willing to sacrifice my pack as some kind of war maneuver, but I’m not. These people are my family, my friends. Despite my disgrace, most of them are good people. They don’t deserve to be slaughtered just so Caleb can counterattack.

Beside me, Caleb starts to stir. Quickly, I shove the phone away from me, closer to his side. He blinks a few times, then stares up at the ceiling-

I see the moment he returns back to himself when a flash of confusion instantly gives way to an overwhelming flood of anger. He tilts his head, looks at me, and then immediately shoves himself upright.

Before I can react, his arm snatches out and he grabs my throat in his grip.

Voice deep and furious.

Chapter 16

“I…-I didn’t do anything,” I say, gasping. I reach my hands up, clawing at his where he’s grabbing my throat.

“You slipped me a sleeping pill,” he growls, voice spitting fire. “Those are banned.”

“I didn’t!”

His hand tightens, cutting off my air supply even further…

“Please…!“”

“Someone drugged me with sleeping pills once before. They are not to be used in this kingdom at all. To think you tried to use them against me.”

Just as before, when I tried to tell him that I didn’t have his child, he was not listening to me. Something is blocking him from seeing reason. It’s like he’s lost his mind, entirely focused on how I’ve betrayed him. How everyone has betrayed him.

Even if it’s entirely imaginary.

“Tell me the truth!” he shouts right in my face.

He’s squeezing too tightly. It hurts!

I start to cough, unable to drag in the air I need. Tears well in my eyes. Quickly, they spill over and rush down my cheeks.

My vision starts to darken…

Caleb’s vision is red. He feels out of his own body, second in command behind the all-encompassing rage that has him squeezing his fingers around this slave’s throat.

How dare someone try to rip away his agency? What did she hope to gain? Did she mean to kill him? Or perhaps alter his mind? It’s a known fact that sleeping pills can damage a werewolf’s brain structure. Was that her ultimate goal?

He’s so angry that he doesn’t immediately pick up on her quiet little hiccups and coughs. He finds her hopeless struggle amusing. She claws at his hands with her pathetic human fingernails. Whatever marks she leaves on his skin instantly heal.

Slaves are bound to serve him, yet they seem ever–selfish. The people around him only care about their own advancement, their own gain.

Even Tristan, his Beta, Caleb cannot fully trust.

Caleb expects betrayal from every direction – especially from those close to him.

His fingers cut into the skin of this slave’s neck, bruising the pale flesh. Her tears drip down onto his hand. The droplets are cool, compared to the hot rage thrumming through him.

One after the next, they fall onto his skin. Such tiny little teardrops. They should fizzle in the face of the rage- not the other way around.

Yet, with those suddenly cool drops, the tight fury that gripped his own chest in a vice grip immediately loosened. As this tightness releases in his chest, he releases the firm grip of his hand.

Harper immediately slumps. Falling off the platform, she crumples on the floor, gagging, heaving in shaky breaths.

In the absence of the heat of his fury, an ice–cold blizzard fills him. He’s numb, looking down at the mess he’s made of his slave, the finger-shaped bruises around her neck.

He nearly killed her. He could have, so easily.

His gaze shifted to her perfect body, the swell of her breasts. For this angle, nothing was hidden from his greedy gaze. Her tits were delectable, with perfect perky little nipples.

They weren’t as large as Veronica’s, or some of the others of his arm, but they were the perfect size of his palm. She also makes such pleasant sounds when he sucks on those nipples. Responsive… Delicious.

“I only… gave you.. a scalp massage..” the slave says from the ground.

She’s likely lying, but Caleb does recall a gentle pressure on the top of his head that gave him an overwhelming sense of relaxation and peace.

When was the last time he had felt that calm? He couldn’t remember. Maybe never. It was so long ago that he had forgotten what it felt like.

“Do it again,” Caleb commands.

With the slave’s breathing returning to normal now, she has no reason to disobey him. Not that he would forgive any reason.

“Stand,” he says.

Harper pushes herself to her feet. Caleb sits on the edge of the platform and beckons her closer.

She’s frightened. Her wide eyes and trembling bottom lip give her away.

Caleb does not care. He will feel that relaxation again now.

“I will not command a second time.”

That snaps her into action and she steps into the space before him. Reaching up, she buries her fingers into his hair and starts massaging his scalp.

Immediately, relaxation soothes him. His muscles release the tension that they’ve held for years. Even his thoughts were clear, pushing away his paranoia and rage and allowing him to think sharply again.

How is this possible? He feels almost like a different person. A man he used to be.

What magic does this woman possess to make him feel so at ease?

She continues working, her arms shifting, her perfect tits jiggling right in front of Caleb’s eyes.

Hating the flimsy bands of silk that block his view now, he reaches up, puts his hand at the center of her torso, between the two drops of silk that hide her from him, and dragging his hands to her sides, exposes her once more.

Immediately, she drops her hands away to try to cover herself. Caleb smacks away her arms.

“You are my woman,” he growls. “It is my right to see you whenever I wish.”

Harper lifts her chin. Even trembling, she still tries to be defiant “You’re a pervert,” She snaps.

Caleb finds her inner strength in equal parts amusing and infuriating. He’s never had a slave talk back to him so much. By all rights, he should have her whipped into compliance. Or he could simply cast her aside in favor of a more agreeable woman.

Instead, her goading calls forth his lust like a hungry bear to a bee hive.

She’ll learn her place in time. He’ll see to that.

For now, he drags his thumbs over the swell of her tits to flick at her nipples. They harden at once, and her eyelids lower.

She can fight all she wants, but he’ll always win in the end. Her body wants him as fiercely as he wants hers.

“Stop..” she says weakly.

“I take what’s mine,” he growls Then, yanking her forward he claims her mouth forcibly with his own.

The next morning, Harper awakes slowly in her bed. Her room, far down in the earth, is naturally warmer than the upstairs where she tends to Caleb.

Well, except for when he sets her treacherous body alight. Traitorous thing, coming alive at the feel of his hands and the weight of his gaze.

I dread waking up, knowing it’s another day when I’ll be subjected to his impulsive whims.

My neck still fucking hurts.

But what can be done? I’ll be punished for staying in bed all day.

With reluctance, I blink my eyes open – then I gasp so hard I choke on my breath.

A woman stands at my bedside. With her arms crossed, she glares down at me.

How long has she been here? What does she want?

Why does she look so familiar?

She just stares as my heart rate pounds out of control. Shoving myself upright, I back up in my bed as much as I can, pressing myself against the corner.

After blinking the sleep from my eyes, I start to recognize this woman.

Not as someone I know from here, but from before.

From my pack lands.

Wait. That’s it. This is the woman who was offered to Caleb by my pack at the last devotion. Her name is Nina.

Chapter 17

Nina the woman my pack previously sacrificed to the Lycan King?

“You’re alive. I am seeing her with my own two eyes and still can’t believe it.

No one was ever truly sure what would happen to the tributes once they were sent off as devotion to the King. Some women, we knew, were selected to be members of the harem. But what of the rest? None ever returned from their trek to the Capital.

While a great honor to be chosen as a tribute for the Lycan King, we all reasoned it was a potential death sentence. The King is known to be ruthless, and as we never heard the word back, we could only assume….

For the sake of the families, members of my pack treated those sent away as if they had died. Funerals were held. Memorials were built.

To see Nina here in the flesh, when only last year, I had attended her funeral is shocking, to say the least.

“I’m not dead,” Nina says, scoffing. “You think I wouldn’t be chosen? I’m in the harem.”

Glancing at her state of dress, a fine silk gown wraps around her body. Heavy golden jewelry drapes around her throat and wrists. It’s shackled, the same as the blunt collar around my throat, but Nina’s are gilded. She remains a prisoner, but her cage is made of gold and fine silk.

I bet she even has a room with a window,

Truthfully, I’ve been given occasion to reach out,” Nina continues. “But knowing our pack’s traditions, I figured I might well not bother. I’m already dead to them. Why correct it?”

“Your mother might want to know…” I remember how she cried at the funeral.

Nina shrugs with indifference. “I don’t have any intention of looking backward. My future is what’s ahead of me. Everything I need is here.”

I relax somewhat now, knowing she likely doesn’t mean me any harm.

“What kind of future is here?” I ask her. From what I’ve seen, this place contains only madness, torture, and death.

“It’s freeing here,” she says, which seems like some kind of paradox to me. She barrels onward, not noticing my reaction or not caring about it. “Here, everything you’ve ever done in the past is washed away. All that matters is earning the King’s favor.”

“And that’s how you want to spend the rest of your life?” I ask. “Competing against other women for the passing fancy of some man?

“The King is not some man,” Nina says with distaste. “You, of all prople should know that. For a slave, he’s been giving you plenty of attention. We all saw what happened in the courtyard yesterday.”

I shudder, remembering. “Veronica was someone who also valued favor above all else.”

“Veronica was a fool who became overconfident and too comfortable with her place at the top,” Nina says. “It was past time for her to fall from grace.” Nina’s eyes go distant. “King Caleb is worth every effort. He’s the peak Alpha, all strength and wide shoulders and…

“Ruthlessness,” I say, cutting in.

“He’s not a weak man,” Nina says. “That’s another quality in his favor.”

Nina seems set in her opinions. They are all alien to me, but I doubt I will be able to change her ideals when they seem so deeply rooted within her. This makes me wonder something else.

“What are you doing here, Nina?” I ask. “Surely you aren’t here to convince me to care about the King’s favor?”

“No.” Nina sighs. “I hope you know how lucky you are that they sent me to persuade you to reveal the whereabouts of the child. They could have sent a torturer. They have one, I’ve seen all kinds of knives in rolled-ups.

I shiver at the thought but press my words forward. “He wouldn’t pull anything from me, even under torture. Nina, there’s never been any child. I’ve never been pregnant. If he does have a child, it’s not with me.”

Nina flicks her gaze over my face. I keep my expression open, hoping she can see my sincerity.

“You could be lying,” she says. “Your disdain for the King is clear just from what you’ve said today. The pack could be trying to protect you both.”

“I’m not valued in the pack, you know that. Not after my disgrace.”

“Even so, to keep the King’s child… They need not care about you to want to hold onto that leverage.”

“You can’t think so poorly of your own pack!”

Nina looks away. “My allegiance is fully to my King now, above all else.”

That she refuses to meet my gaze as she says the words fill me with hope. She can say what she needs to say to survive here, but no one can turn their back on their true family so easily.

As a fellow pack member, surely she can understand our plight.

“Nina, I overheard the King talking strategy with one of his advisors,” I say. “They know that the bear clan plans to attack during the next Alpha ceremony, but they don’t plan on doing anything to stop it. They are going to let our pack be destroyed”

Nina doesn’t say a word, but her jaw clenches.

“We have to find a way to send a message to them,” I say. “Samuel and the rest… They have no idea what’s coming. If can warn them, they’ll at least have a fighting chance.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Nina says. “If the King discovers what you plan to do…”

I plead with my eyes. “Please, Nina. Remember where you came from.”

She frowns. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says and leaves.

Every morning for the next few days, Nina comes to see me. Officially, she’s to interrogate me about the child, but after that is done, we talk more about the pack and share some memories of our youth. Nina is two years older than me, but we shared some of the same teachers in school or went to the same events.

We were never friends, but we were in similar circles. She even has a slight accent on the way she says words with a long “a” sound. It makes me homesick.

During the day, I stay in the King’s shadow, standing off to the side as he works. At his command, I give him scalp massages. We’ve started to fall into a routine.

With each passing day, however, my anxiety grows for the survival of my pack. Every day that goes by is one where they could have been working to prepare for the encroaching attack.

Unless I act swiftly, even if I can get work to them, it will be too late for them to actually do anything about it.

That night, I was stressed so much, I couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning in my bed, I keep envisioning the bear clan striking my unsuspecting family and friends, ripping through the ceremony imagining Samuel in a pool of his own blood.

When Nina comes in the morning. I’m already dressed and wasting no time. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me ask.

After our typical back and forth…

“Where’s the child?” she asked.

“There isn’t a child,” I reply.

Nina leans close to me and whispers, her voice barely audible, but with our closeness, I can hear.

“I believe you about the bear clan attack. You have to go warn them,” she says, “I know a way you can flee the Capital”

Chapter 18

Nina walks out of Harper’s room and rejoins her companion, Molly who waited for her in the hallway. When their eyes lock, Molly lifts her brow in silent question. Nina smirks in reply.

Nina continues past her, making her way to the stairwell. Molly follows in step behind her. They travel in silence as they move up the stairs, back to the light of the above ground. When they step out onto the ground floor. Molly bounces to Nina’s side.

Her face is a twist of excitement and nervousness like she can’t contain herself anymore.

“Go ahead and ask,” Nina says.

“Did she fall for it?” Molly asks at once.

“Did you think she wouldn’t?” Nina replies. “How many new girls have I convinced now to run off to their own deaths?”

“Ten, Molly replies. “This would be eleven.”

“Each deserved it,” Nina says. “Any fool that would try to escape deserves death. King Caleb despises nothing more than lies and betrayal”:

Molly hums, but doesn’t say more. Glancing at her, Nina can see she’s holding herself back.

“Out with it. Molly. Do not play games this morning.”

–

“I just wonder… and I know this is out of line–forgive me but King Caleb has been treating this woman differently than the rest… Molly hooks her fingers together nervously. She’s so busy fiddling, that she nearly trips over a lift in the floor. As she stumbles to correct herself, Nina continues onward.

Molly wasn’t wrong, though, and that infuriates Nina.

Who is Harper- a woman torn down with disgrace back home to thrive here in the Capital? Who would the King bring her with him to see to his kingly duties? He has never allowed one of his women to attend these things before.

With the way Caleb protected her in the courtyard, choosing to vilify Veronica rather than defend her, Nina can see the only way to bring Harper down would be to make sure she disgraces herself. Nina will not end up as Veronica had.

She’ll be smarter and more careful. After sending so many girls to their own eager deaths, she knows how to properly cover her tracks.

Harper told Nina about the funeral their pack held for her. It sounded elaborate. Nina was always well-liked after all.

Nina grins, knowing no one would likely show up to Harper’s funeral. If the pack even deigned to have one in her honor.

Soon, Harper will be dead for real the ultimate ‘sacrifice”

That knowledge brings Nina untold joy. She’ll surely rise in favor once again.

Anticipation and trepidation buzz through Harper, distracting her for most of the day. Per Nina’s instruction, she is to wait until the cover of nightfall, then sneak out through a passageway at the base of the wall in the courtyard.

I need to be quick and silent if I’m to have any chance. It will be difficult to reach the spot, traveling all the way from my room below ground.

I can do it, I know I can. I’ll do whatever it takes to save my pack.

To my surprise, at the end of the day, when I am usually sent away to return to my rooms, Tristan stops me.

“Go to the kitchen, he commanded.

Then serve our King in his office.”

“At once,” I reply. If they believe I’ve become more complacent, they might not suspect my actions to free myself tonight. They might even let their guard down around me.

After heading into the kitchen, I moved quietly around the other slaves to prepare the hot water and then steep the tea in a teapot. I place the teapot and a teacup onto a tray, then lift it and carry it out of the kitchen toward Caleb’s office.

I’ve been there a few times before over the past couple of days, so I know the way. When I arrive at the massive wooden door, it is closed. Balancing the tray on my hip, I lift my hand and knock

“Enter,” Caleb commands.

I open the door and slink inside, careful to catch and close the door again behind me.

Caleb’s office is sizeable, with a wide desk and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining every wall but the back one, which is made up of windows instead. Aside from the desk, a chaise lounge sits near one of the bookcases. A small wooden stool is also there.

Tonight, Caleb sits at his desk, fussing through paperwork. Every few moments, he sighs. Occasionally, he scribbles something in the margins. If he’s extra annoyed, he underlines it three times in red pen.

“My King, I have your tea,” I say.

He grunts in response but then motions to a spot on the edge of the desk. Walking forward, I set down the tray there and began to serve him, pouring the tea into the cup.

As I work, he glances over at me.

“Forget that,” he grumbles. “I need a massage. These imbeciles‘ reports are driving me to madness. My head is killing me.”

Immediately, I see an opportunity here. If I can relax Caleb so much that he falls asleep, then I could sneak from this room to my exit, without needing the detour and show of returning to my own rooms. That would spare me many fewer chances to be caught.

He looks at me expectantly, like he wants me to massage him right there at his desk.

Instead, I motion toward the chaise lounge. “You should lay down, my King. Allow yourself to be comfortable so that you can more fully relax… If you want to, that is. The King hates commands, even in the form of suggestions. I’m hasty to fix my error.

He’s so frustrated with his work, that he doesn’t even seem to notice my faux pas. Thank the gods,

He glances at the chaise lounge with something like longing. “Very well,” he says. Standing from his desk chair he moves to the lounge and rests down on it. I quickly move to stand behind him. Then, gently, I bury my fingers into his hair and begin my scalp massage.

His body reacts at once, bending to my ministrations. His eyelids droop. His limbs lose their tension.

It doesn’t take long before his breathing slows,

I continue a moment longer, just to be sure he’s really asleep. Slowly, I remove my hands from him, then inch around to peer at his face. His eyes are closed, his expression peaceful.

He’s even more handsome like this, without the usual simmering rage twisting his features. He looks younger. He doesn’t seem happy but relaxed like this, he at least seems content.

Shaking the thoughts away, I scold myself for wasting time staring. I inch back towards the door. Once I reach it, I slowly, silently turn the handle and slip out into the hallway.

It’s late, so the hallways are dimmer without the sunshine to lighten. Fewer people are milling around.

Looking around, I see no one watching me, so I veer from my al route to the stairwell and duck out into the courtyard.

Guards with flashlights are doing patrols. I stick to the shadows, hiding behind brush and trees to avoid being spotted.

Following Nina’s previous instructions, I follow the wall until I reach the spot she mentioned, where a rock covers a slender hole in the wall.

Inhaling sharply, it’s still a tight fit, yet I manage to slip through and tumble out onto the grass on the other side.

I exhale in relief, only to immediately stop breathing once more.

Looking up, I see the muzzle of a guard’s rifle, pointing straight at my face.

Chapter 19

The guards drag me down the spiral staircase as low as it can go down, down into the dungeon. They drag me through the narrow hallway between the rod–iron cages. Instead of going to the cell at the end of the hall, where I was once tortured with the truth serum, one of the guards unlocks a cell along the way and throws me inside.

I stumble, toppling down to the dirty floor.

The guard slams the gate closed behind me and locks it.

I want to beg him not to go, to reconsider, to say this is all a mistake.

But my crime was clear. I was trying to escape, and I got caught. Nothing I could say would change that.

So, trapped in these iron bars and my own misery, I watch the guard walk away, abandoning me in this dark, damp place.

Someone is wailing from down the hall, moaning like a ghost. The noise echoes through the space, unnerving.

Is this to be my home now? Am I to live out my days in the dark?

What about my pack? Who would alert them now? Could Nina still find a way?

Surely she hadn’t led me into trouble on purpose. We are from the same pack. This had to be my own fault. I didn’t wait until late enough or I made too much noise shifting through the hole.

She has to still be out there, working to save our pack. I have to believe that. It would be far too bleak not too. I can’t succumb to hopelessness just like that.

So I start to pace. My mind wants to race so I focus on exercise instead. My cell isn’t very large, maybe six feet by six feet, but I walk from one side to the other. Back and forth, again and again. My legs are sore and my mind is exhausted, but I won’t slow down. I won’t give in.

I don’t know how much time has passed. Minutes. Hours?

Suddenly, the wailing stops. The room seems to hold its breath as steady, proud footsteps come down the stairs and enter the hallway.

“Show me where,” Caleb growls.

“This way, my King,” says a voice I don’t recognize. A guard, perhaps.

The footsteps come closer. King Caleb, Tristan, and the guard stop just outside of my cell.

I stop in my tracks and look up. Caleb’s eyes trap my own, and I swallow thickly. A fiery rage ignites within his irises, and the blue of his eyes even starts to redden.

Is he about to shift?

Instinctively, I take a step back.

“Open this door.” Caleb snaps.

The guard scrambles to open. He fumbles with the keys once, putting in the wrong one.

As Caleb continues to glare at me, a growl starts at the back of his throat.

The guard, hands shaking, finally unlocks the door. Caleb’s arm flashes forward. The cell door swings open so hard and fast, that it smashes backward against the bars of the cell, making a horrible clanging noise that makes me wince.

The gate out of the way, Caleb storms forward into my cell.

I back up, step after step, until my back presses against the cold, lamp stone of the cell wall.

Caleb continues forward, boxing me in.

Where did you think you were going?” he demands, voice shaking with barely constrained anger. “Did you believe you could escape from me! You are mine.”

Frightened as I am, I broke down.

Chapter 20

“Sir. Are you certain!” Tristan asks.

Caleb glares at his Beta, who should know better than to doubt him, especially in front of a guard and a slave.

Tristan, realizing his mistake, immediately lowers his head. “Apologies, My King I spoke out of turn”

“Do it again, and I’ll have you whipped like the rest, Caleb snaps.

Harper looks confused and pathetic, her bottom–lip trembling. Goosebumps rise all over her exposed skin.

“She’ll need different clothes,” Caleb adds, then scolds himself internally. What does he care what she wears! Let the world see her nakedness. Yet, even as he thinks such dismissive thoughts, his hands curl into tight fists.

He may want to not care who sees her, but at the same time, he wants to claw out the eyes of anyone who dares look.

Disgusted by his own partiality, he abruptly swivels for the door and exits. Tristan keeps pace, ever in his shadow. The guard secures the door, locking the slave back in her cell for now,

She won’t be staying there long. When Tristan fulfills Caleb’s order, she will be changed and sent further into the caves There is a place that serves as the ultimate punishment for slaves and harem women who commit grave offenses but whom Caleb sees no point in immediately killing.

The Colosseum.

Caleb expects Tristan to branch off at any moment, to see his orders through. Instead, he continues to follow Caleb all the way back to his office. Caleb doesn’t bother closing the door as he enters, letting Tristan do that after he comes in.

Moving to his desk, Caleb sits down in his chair and immediately begins searching through his reports again.

Tristan comes to stand in front of his desk.

They’re at a standstill. Tristan won’t speak up without Caleb’s acknowledgment and permission. Caleb has no desire to hear more backtalk from who is supposed to be his closest ally.

Tristan must be feeling bold today, because he speaks up, surprising Caleb.

“My King, I ask you to reconsider this decision.”

Caleb, shocked, looks up at Tristan. What fresh treachery is this? Another betrayal? A stab in the back from the one he thought might actually protect it?

He shouldn’t be surprised. Maybe deep down he isn’t.

“You are on thin ice, Tristan,” Caleb says.

“She’s different than the others, Tristan presses forward, even at his own folly. “You are different with her.”

His words now, more than his disrespect, give Caleb pause. Tristan has never spoken up for a slave before, nor any woman of Caleb’s harem. Tristan has always been a dutiful follower.

Yet… he will plead for Harper?

Strange, but ineffective. Caleb is tired of thinking of this horrid woman. Constantly she has driven him to madness and obsessive rage. The farther she is from him the better.

Besides, a few weeks in the Colosseum should frighten her enough to loosen her tongue about his child.

“Perhaps you’d rather kill her? Caleb says. Can Tristan not see that in this case, Colosseum is more generous than his usual punishment for those who dare to try to escape? “It’s within my Kingly rights to have her head lobbed off if you’d prefer it.”

“No, my King,” Tristan says, head lowered again.

“Then see to my commands, Beta,” Caleb says. “I will not repeat myself.”

At once. Tristan turns for the door and disappears through it.

Caleb, alone again, busies himself with work once more. He ignores the growing headache pulsing at his temples.

I spent the next hour trying to determine what Caleb could have meant when he condemned me to that place. It could be the whipping pit or some other kind of torture chamber. Maybe they have more vials with more needles that will send pain scaring through me.

Maybe he wants to main me somehow, or brand me?

I don’t know what to expect and it’s driving me to distress.

At the end of an hour, my cell door unlocks once more. Looking up, I see Tristan entering. He’s holding some kind of burlap sack, folded neatly under his arm.

With panic. I look behind him, searching for Caleb. It’s only a small relief when I realize he’s not there.

Tristan hands me the sack he’s holding. I’m confused until I unfold it and realize it’s a kind of crude tunic. It’s itchy to the touch and undoubtedly uncomfortable, but, without knowing where I’m going, I’d rather be covered. The burlap tunic will at least hide my breasts and my hips.

Dragging it over my head, I pull it on. It cinches slightly around the waist, coming to a stop mid-thigh. It does itch and looks like I’m wearing a potato sack. But it’s better than the flimsy silks

Glancing at Tristan, I remember how he almost stood up for me. We don’t have a friendship by far, but we’ve built up a rapport, I think. I’ve always tried to do a good job with every command he’s given me.

So I dare ask him, “Where am I going? Where is that place?”

His jaw locks, and I exhale slowly, believing he won’t tell me.

“You are to be sent to the Colosseum, Tristan says.

My heart leaps into my throat. Immediately I wish he hadn’t told me. I wish I hadn’t asked.

We’d see videos sometimes, back home, of gruesome fights filmed somewhere underground in a mysterious Colosseum. Sometimes the fights were between gladiators. Other times, one gladiator against a swarm of unarmed slaves. Other times still, unarmed slaves against wild animals.

Fear grips tightly at my throat. I suppose it’s not a death sentence. Theoretically, I could survive somehow. But the odds are stacked against me – especially as someone without a wolf.

I doubt I would survive even one encounter in the Colosseum.

I’m doomed.

“Tristan…” I say.

I think he might snap at me but instead, he waits for me to finish I truly must be destined for death if he’s showing me this kindness.

“Would it be possible for me to make one final phone call? Back home… I want to properly say goodbye. I didn’t really get the chance and now… Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink then I’ve done enough crying. Death has always been an option here. I will meet it with bravery,

But first, I need to warn my pack. And, in doing that, if I can say goodbye to Samuel…

That would be a win-win scenario for me.

Tristan considers my words which is far more than I expected.

“Follow me,” he says.

He leads me back to the spiral staircase, then up a single flight to the floor above. This level contains rooms rather than iron-bar cells. Glancing in, they seem like interrogation chambers the policemen might use, with a card table in the room and two chairs.

Tristan steers me into one of the rooms, Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves and unlocks his own cell phone and hands it to me.

“I will stay in the room, Tristan says.

“That’s fine,” I reply. Maybe he’ll punish me for some of the things I want to say. But what worse can they do than the Colosseum? Killing me directly might be a blessing in comparison.

I dialed Samuel’s number. I still remember it even after these three long years.

Samuel answers on the third ring. “Who is this?”

Hearing his voice again makes me weak in the knees.

There is so much to say and so little time that I don’t know where to begin. I follow my heart letting it lead.

“Samuel, I didn’t mean what I said that day in the attic. I left because I felt I had to, to protect you and the pack…” My voice breaks now. This time, the tears do spill over. “I love you, Samuel, and I… –”

“Stop, Harper,” Samuel says, his voice cold. “I am your brother–in–law now. Whatever romantic feelings you hold for me have nothing to do with me anymore.”

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