The Lycan King’s Defiant Surrogate by Riley Above Story (Chapters 21 to 30)

Chapter 21

I don’t believe my ears. I had to have misheard. So I take a moment to catch my breath. It shakes as I inhale. Then I repeat the most shocking of the things he said to me, “Brother-in-law?””

“My wedding to Leah is already set,” Samuel says. His voice is clear and crisp, but totally monotone, without any emotion or feeling.

A cold chill creeps into my body. Not even my new burlap tunic can protect me from the impossible icy numbness that freezes me from the inside out.

“You’ll be married soon, then,” I say, forcing the words. “But not yet.”

“A technicality that will soon be remedied. I expect you to be congratulating me, Harper. Your sister would be pleased to know we have your blessing.”

“You can’t mean any of this. Not after the things you said before.”

“I was caught up in the moment,” Samuel says. “Things were said between us that I did not mean.”

I shrink into myself, realizing he is using my own words against me now. Just as in this very conversation, I claimed not to have meant my cold rejection of him, he now claims that his feelings were also false.

“Samuel, please.”

“Don’t make a scene, Harper,” Samuel scolds. “Soon I will be Alpha, and I will have your sister as my Luna. Give your blessing. After all, I wish you happiness in your life. Don’t you wish the same for me?”

My chest aches as my heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. “Please, Samuel. You can’t do this. I… I love you…”

The line is quiet for a long moment, before Samuel speaks up, heartless and cruel once more. “If there is nothing else of value that you want to talk about…”

“Wait!” I shout, remembering through the heartbreak that there is more. So much more.

My silly, foolish love blinded me to the real issues. Heading the Colosseum as I am, does it truly matter who Samuel marries? I am certain to die by week’s end. I’ll never be free to leave this pace, to find my way back to him, and to marry him as I want.

My main focus should be, as ever, the survival of the man I love and my pack.

.Yet, as I think that, I’m increasingly aware of the King’s Beta, listening to my every word from his post just inside the door.

When I start to give my warning, I will have to speak quickly. Else Tristan may interfere.

“Samuel, listen to me please,” I say with hasty urgency. “Be careful at your Alpha ceremony. The Bear Clan is planning to secretly attack our pack. I heard from the -“

Behind me, Tristan storms forward.

“Samuel!”

“Bullshit,” Samuel says so loudly that Tristan could hear it too. He and I both stop. “You are simply coming up with more and more lies. Why should I ever believe anything you have to say?”

“I’m not lying!”

“You aren’t here to ruin my ceremony and my wedding, so you are attempting to destroy us even from where you are!”

“If you would just listen -“

“I’m done listening, Harper. But even if you aren’t going to give me your blessing, I will give you mine. I wish you a good life.”

“What life?” I shout.

“Goodbye, Harper.” He hangs up the phone.

“They’re going to kill me!” I continue shouting.

He can’t hear anymore, but hopelessness overwhelms me like a curse through my body.

Samuel didn’t believe me. Not about my confession. Not about the attack.

Tristan calmly walks up beside me and holds out his hand. I place his phone into it. He immediately returns the phone to his pocket.

He doesn’t say a word, and for that I’m grateful. Instead, he hands me a handkerchief. I look at it with suspicion, and then up at his face to try to read his motives. He’s not looking at me, his eyes on the door.

I didn’t even realize I was crying, but I could feel the tears now, dampening my cheeks.

“Where you are going,” Tristan says, “You do not want to show weakness. Every tremble, every tear, every wince, they will exploit. You must not give them the chance if you are to have any hope of surviving.”

.”Why are you helping me?” I ask.

“I don’t care what happens to you,” he says. “My King is the only one worthy of such loyalty.”

“But he hates me…”

Tristan glances at me sideways. He doesn’t say a word to explain the look, though I feel like he is attempting to convey something to me with his eyes. After a moment, when it’s clear I don’t understand, he sighs as he faces the door.

“Pull yourself together. We are on a schedule.”

I finish dabbing my eyes with his handkerchief and hand it back to him.

“Follow me,” he says. “Stay close. If you get lost, the guards will kill you the moment they see you alone, wearing that collar.”

That certainly puts the damper on any escape attempt.

As it is, the pieces of my heart can barely feel anything anyway. I might as well face the Colosseum. There’s nothing for me outside of this cave anyway.

I’m almost glad I’m so numb right now. Maybe my lack of emotion will ultimately save me in the end, given Tristan’s warnings.

At least until Tristan returns to Caleb. I have no doubt, he will share news of my treachery.

I can already feel the noose closing in around my neck.

Tristan leads Harper to the slave entrance to the Colosseum. The guards there seem interested in my charge, until one of them boldly asks her, “What kind of fighting experience do you have?”

Harper visibly swallows. Her face has been pale since her phone call, but it’s sheet white now.

“I’ll figure it out,” Harper says, as some of her typical defiance returns to her, along with a small dash of color to her cheeks.

Good. Tristan would be disappointed if she just rolled over and accepted death. She has too much tenacity, even able to stand up to the king as she sometimes does.

The guard snorts with disbelief. “Another to the slaughter then.” He grabs Harper by the arm and drags her forward through the door. At the last moment, she turns, perhaps to look back, but the door slams closed before she and Tristan can lock eyes.

If she was hoping to give him a pleading look, she would have been disappointed anyway. He’s done all he can for her already.

For him to even have dared asked once placed him in a precarious position with his King.

The king he now has to report to.

Rubbing his forehead, he turns toward the slave’s chambers at the base of the hall. He finds the spiral staircase and takes the winding way up to ground level.

At the King’s office, Tristan knocks.

“Enter,” the King calls.

Tristan does.

The King sits behind his desk. His paperwork is forgotten, he’s pressing his knuckles into his temple.

Another headache, then. And the only cure they’ve been able to find for those who just entered the worst punishment center in the kingdom.

“Beta. Has she been delivered?”

“Yes, my King.”

“Good.” The King deeply frowns. His expression does not match his words. Likely, he doesn’t even know why.

“I have news,” Tristan says, bracing himself for his King’s rage. “She made a phone call…”

Chapter 22

Fury striking through him like a lightning bolt, Caleb stands so abruptly, that his chair pushes back and falls flat against the stone tiles of his office.

“How the hell was she able to make a call?” he demands.

Tristan looks straight at him. “I let her use my phone.”

Enraged, Caleb rounds the desk. Never in his recent life did he think he would have to lay hands on his Beta. Tristan has always been dutiful, diligent, and above all, loyal. For him to have changed so suddenly……

Has he been enchanted by this troublesome slave?

That singular thought keeps him from punching his Beta.

That woman used similar powers on him… easing his headaches as she had been able to. Caleb doesn’t believe in massages and relaxation techniques. They’ve never worked before.

Magic, however. That would make sense.

The magical trickeries could best any man, Tristan included. With this, Caleb finds forgiveness in his heart.

For now.

-As his anger burns away, his curiosity begins to sprout.

“Who did she call?” Caleb says. “Tell me everything.”

“The call was placed to Samuel, the soon-to-be Alpha of her pack. Background research on this man has shown that he was once engaged to Harper. Now, instead, he is engaged to her sister, Leah.”

“A man of poor judgment all around,” Caleb says. “This entire family should be avoided.”

“There appears to still be love held, at least from Harper’s side,” Tristan says. “She told this man that she loves him.”

Hot white rage spikes fiercely through Caleb’s body. His vision flashes red. His teeth begin to elongate with the shift. It takes all he has to hold back his furious wolf.

Closing his eyes, he takes several deep breaths.

Easy, he tells his wolf. This one means nothing to us. We do not care if she loves some whelp.

Besides, it won’t matter anyway soon enough. When the bear clan destroys that pack, the newly appointed Alpha will be the first to fall.

Despite Harper’s insistence that Caleb is cruel, Caleb does not make this tactical decision with any frivolity. He knows there will be losses, and he mourns for them, even if they are traitorous demons who hide his child from him.

However, punishment must be rendered for their treason. That this punishment allies with bringing the bear clan out of hiding only increases the appeal.

That this Alpha will likely die first makes the plan irresistible. Let this slave mourn the loss of this love. Her devotion should only be to her king.

“Before I could stop her, she attempted to alert Samuel about the encroaching attack,” Tristan says. “However. He did not believe her.”

“You are certain?” Caleb says. “We cannot allow word of our knowledge to reach this pack, lest we turn more against us with our indifference.”

“He was very dismissive,” Tristan replies. “He could have been lying, I suppose. But it seems unlikely. He seems to have a severe mistrust of Miss Lovett.”

“Good. Good.” Caleb frowns, thinking of the slave. “What a horrible wench. You saw her to the Colosseum?”

“I did.”

“Then let us push along her first match.” Caleb’s sour mood turns, thinking of her in the sandy arena, her doe eyes looking up at him in the King’s box, begging him to save her. “I cannot wait to hear her pleas for help.”

A guard roughly drags my arm through a winding tunnel that seems to coil down deeper beneath the walls of the Colosseum. At the base of the tunnel, the hallway widens into a massive room with arching stone ceilings and dusty floors.

Makeshift rooms of tied-up planks and twine separate the larger room into smaller bed chambers. At the center of the square of bedchambers, slaves and gladiators yield crude swords and axes. They strike training dummies made of straw.

Guards stand at every column, guns trailed on any with weapons, likely willing and able to shoot at any that try to use the weapons for their escape.

The guard dragging me, shoves me down in the center of this room, directly behind a trio of gladiators training. They are dressed differently than the slaves. Their collars are golden and elaborate. Their clothes are finer made. Two have pieces of metal armor. The third has a helmet that covers most of his face.

All three gladiators have bulging muscles ripped with scare.

“What is this then?” The one with the helmet said, his gruff voice slightly muffled.

“Easy, Gold,” says one of the other gladiators, a younger man with slicked back, shoulder-length hair, and a grin that shows more teeth than necessary.

Gold – the masked man – turns his head to seemingly glare at the other man. The man just grins that toothy smile.

The third gladiator, an older man with a full gray beard and a deep slash over one eye, turns fully around and ignores the rest of us.

The younger man kneels down beside me. “Ignore them, gorgeous. What’s your name?”

I don’t like the way he’s eyeing my body like he’s trying to discern my figure through my burlap tunic.

Gold grabs him by the shoulders and yanks him back to his feet. “Knock it off, Kidd. You know these ones never last a week.”

“All the more reason to have fun while we can,” the younger man – Kidd – replies.

My stomach churns in disgust. I think I might be sick.

.”You sick fuck,” Gold says and shoves Kidd away.

Kidd laughs.

….

Turning away from us, Gold takes up his sword again strikes at the training dummy once more.

As Kidd flashes his grin at me, I shove myself up to my feet. He inches toward me. I back up a step.

Maybe I can turn and run? A guard might not protect me, but my speed might.

Yet just as I think it, a new person comes closer. She’s well dressed in dusty white armor and a cap with a blue feather in it. She’s tall and strong, a massive sword strapped toward her back.

Unlike the rest of us, she wears no collar, though thick bracelets cover her wrists, making me believe she’s not fully free. Even so, she walks with an air of importance, that everyone bows to – even Kidd, who slinks away from me at last.

She comes to stand before me and then stares down at me with a twisted-up, disgusted expression. “They send another straight to their deaths. Why waste my time? Why not just kill you?” She sighs. “Ah, who am I to question the will of the King… Let me look at you. What’s your name?”

“Harper,” I say. I’m guessing last names don’t matter here.

“That’s what you are going with?” she asks. “You could be anything in here.”

“Harper is my name,” I say.

She shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She straightens. “You may call me Pitmaster.”

“That’s your name?” I ask.

“My title,” she says. “You’ll learn my name in time if you live long enough. Judging from the sight of you, sorry to say, you will not.” She hitches her thumb, gesturing to the area around us. “This is our pit, and I’m the master, got it? You listen to everything I say, and try your best not to die.”

I nod. In this strange new world, I don’t want to even chance trying to navigate on my own.

“One last thing,” the Pitmaster says. “Let me welcome you to hell on earth. Or under it, I suppose. We’re all forgotten souls down here.”

Chapter 23

“Come,” the Pitmaster says. “I’ll show you where you can rest for the night.”

She turns and starts walking away from me. I hurry to follow her, eager for sleep. Fear and adrenaline have kept me going since before my escape attempt. While I still feel those things, my body physically cannot handle much more.

The Pitmaster leads me to one of the crude bed chambers. Inside, a cot is pressed up against one wall. There’s also a small table with a wash basin on top. The basin is currently empty.

“There’s a water pump in the canteen,” the Pitmaster says. “I’ll show you more tomorrow. For now, sleep while you can. In the morning, I expect you to be ready to train.”

Stepping into the room, I glance back at her. “I’m going to train?” I thought she might just send me out into the arena to be slaughtered, like other matches I’ve seen.

“I don’t want you to embarrass me by dying too soon,” the Pitmaster says. “At the very least, I will show you how to hold a sword. Hopefully, you can do so without falling on it.” She huffs a laugh as she walks away.

The makeshift walls of the bedroom do not allow for much privacy, but I’m too tired to need it right now. Walking to the cot, I fall down onto it.

Closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep to the sound of clashing swords and shouting.

I don’t dream. It’s a blessing.

The next morning, the Pitmaster hands me a sword, shows me how to hold it, and sets me up against one of the training dummies. Kidd and Gold are also there, sparring against each other. A few other slaves stand around, looking nervous. One of them drops her sword.

The Pitmaster sighs, saying under her breath, “That one won’t last two minutes.” Then she goes to help the poor, shaking woman. “Pick that up. Try again. Put effort in this time. Your life depends on it.”

For a little while, I try slashing at the training dummy, cutting this way and that. My motions are awkward and uncomfortable. I’ve never been trained to fight, especially not like this.

I practice until around midday, when the Pitmaster comes to collect me to take me and the other slaves to the canteen.

The canteen is just a series of long tables. Food has been placed down the center of them. People grab in a rush, making their own personal piles, before they sit and stuff their faces. There are no plates and no silverware. There aren’t even napkins.

In the corner, I can see an old-fashioned water pump with a cracked handle. Someone is there now, attempting to pump water into their basin. They have a towel wrapped around the handle, presumably to protect their hands.

I follow the herd to collect my food and find a spot at one of the tables. The Pitmaster lingers behind, speaking with an official-looking guard who has just entered. They are wearing the black uniform and body armor of the other guards, but this one has golden trim around the collar.

The Pitmaster’s face is dire, but then, she always looks that way.

Their conversation only lasts a few brief minutes. Then the Pitmaster walks over to my table.

“I’ve heard from the master of schedules for the arena,” she says. “For your first match, you will enter the arena against a group of wild animals. This group will include a lion.”

My stomach shrivels up. Suddenly, I’m not so hungry anymore.

Do they really need a group of animals to face me? A single lion would be enough!

Caleb must well and truly want to see me ripped apart. What hope do I really have against wild beasts?

“It will be a hard fight,” the Pitmaster continues. “But you may get lucky.” She doesn’t sound at all convinced, and I can’t blame her.

Even if I had a wolf, a fight against a lion would be near impossible. Without one, I am a lamb to the slaughter.

“Eat,” the Pitmaster says. “You’ll need your strength.” Then she walks away.

I try to eat, forcing down bites of food, but it sits uncomfortably in my belly. Soon, I can’t force anymore, or I risk losing everything I’ve managed to eat so far.

How do you even begin to fight wild animals? I don’t even know where to begin. Maybe, when I’m back in my training, the Pitmaster will show me some tips.

After all, she doesn’t want to be embarrassed by my dying too soon…

This fear at least distracts from the heartache of Samuel’s rejection. I’m so busy worrying about how to survive, that I don’t have much time for thought on how my life has fallen apart in other ways.

First I need to live. Then I can tend to the pieces of my shattered heart.

All of this feels impossible now.

Suddenly, Kidd sits down in the empty spot beside me. He flashes me his toothy grin as his eyes skip down my body. I angle myself away from him or try to, but he places his hand on my shoulder and roughly turns be back.

“Don’t hide like that from me,” Kidd says in a sing-song voice that sends pin-prick shivers up my spine. “We don’t get many like you down here.”

“There are plenty of women,” I say.

“Not women.”

“There are other slaves.”

“Not slaves.”

Slowly, he drags his hand farther up my shoulder to the base of my neck. There, he rubs his thumb up along the side of my throat, pressing into my bruises there. I wince.

“Who was the one who gave you these?” Kidd asks. “Some poor guard? Did he use you like a toy?” Kidd doesn’t wait for an answer, not that I would have answered him anyway. “You liked it, didn’t you.”

I try once more to shrug him off, but he just lifts his hand, pressing his full palm to the side of my neck now. His thumb cuts into the front, and his fingers curl around the back.

“I bet you moaned like a whore,” Kidd grins. “I can’t wait to hear it for myself.”

“You dare place your hand where the King’s has been,” Tristan’s voice rings out, echoing loudly throughout the canteen. The entire room freezes, even Kidd.

Maybe especially Kidd.

He pales, looking back as Tristan approaches us. I look too.

Tristan walks with an air of authority. His clean clothes have no business in this dirty place.

But I am eternally grateful for his presence.

“The King… he’s the one?” Kidd stumbles over his words. “These are his marks…?”

“Remove your hand,” Tristan says. “Or I will have the Pitmaster cut it off.”

The Pitmaster appears at Tristan’s side and unsheathes her blade.

Kidd immediately removes his hand from me. He stands, placing more space between us.

“I did not realize the King had laid claim,” Kidd says. “Or that he still valued her…”

“You are owed no explanation,” Tristan says.

Kidd lowers his head in shame. His cheeks redden slightly as he glares back at me. He doesn’t say anything, just looks as if he wants to murder me for a moment before storming away.

Tristan watches him go with a bored expression, before turning that same face to me.

“The King demands your presence,” he says. “Now.”

Chapter 24

Not seeing any choice in the matter, I follow Tristan toward the stairwell that had led me down into this dark place to start with. Yet before we reach the stairs, and potential freedom, Tristan abruptly turns and heads into an office carved into the stone beneath the stairs.

Inside, Caleb sits on one side of a rectangular table. Tristan gestures for me to sit down on the other side. Then Tristan moves toward the door, steps outside, and closes it.

Unlike the makeshift rooms on rotting wood and string in the rest of the pit, this room is carved entirely out of stone with a thick wooden door. A lantern hangs down from the ceiling, a fiery wick inside illuminating the fullness of the space.

It’s a narrow room with a low ceiling. Books and documents are scattered along shelves in the walls. A layer of dust has settled over them.

Caleb, tall with broad shoulders, takes up a lot of the space. His looming presence makes the air somewhat stifling. His deep-seated glare makes me feel impossibly small.

“You have now seen what the coliseum is like,” Caleb says, his voice deep and dire. Despite how much I resent him, the low tone sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Are you ready to tell me the truth?”

And so, we are back to this.

“As I told you before, we never had a child. I’ve never had a child,” I say. “I’m sorry, King Caleb. Truly. But the person you are looking for isn’t me.”

I thought sympathy might endear him to me. Instead, he just seems even angrier, his eyes flashing red.

“Still, you deny it,” he says, his voice dropping even deeper somehow.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

Abruptly, he stands. The chair scrapes across the stone floor, wood creaking. He can’t stand at his full height in this small room, but even curled over slightly as he is, he is an intimidating, furious presence.

“Stand up,” he commands me.

“Why?” I ask.

He slaps his hand down on the table so hard that a crack forms. “Stand.”

My body impulsively wants to follow the orders of this alpha. The rest of me is too frightened to argue. So I stand.

He comes around the side of the table, inching closer to me. “If you are wearing panties, you should remove them now. Else, I will tear them off with my claws.”

He… what? Here?

Eyes narrowing, he takes another step toward me.

Panicked, I reach under my tunic and begin to slide down my panties. They are silky and comfortable, and likely to be the last nice pair I ever get, especially in a place like this. His threat is real; I know he’ll remove them one way or another. I’d rather have them intact.

When they are at my ankles, I grab them and leave them on the seat of the chair I was just sitting in.

No sooner do I place them down than Caleb grabs me roughly around the waist, turns me toward the table, and bends me over it. Pawing at my tunic, he yanks it upwards, exposing my bare ass and exposed pussy.

He grabs at my ass for a moment, before dragging his hand down my upper thigh. There, he curls his fingers inwards. Stretching out my folds with two fingers of one hand. He uses his other to slip between and start kneading my clit.

The sudden sensation is too much, too fast, and I start to push up off the table onto my hands.

Smack.

In a flash, Caleb removes his hand from my clit to slap my ass – hard.

“As you were,” Caleb says. “Or you’ll receive no pleasure at all.”

The sting of the slap sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through my body in a way that is confusing and alarming. Did I… enjoy that?

My only other experience with sex was that night with Caleb three years before, but I had been heat-crazed and possibly drugged. I didn’t remember much.

I wouldn’t know if I would enjoy something like this.

Fear pulses through me, realizing I might.

I’m not ready for that, not to even explore the thought of it in the safe confines of my own mind, so I fold myself flat down onto the table once more.

“Stay still,” Caleb commands.

I freeze, trying to prove my obedience to this.

Caleb, apparently satisfied, returns his fingers to my clit. He tugs and massages, roughly, then gently, never letting me relax before he switches from hard to soft.

Just when I feel he is finally falling into a groove, he switches things up again by pushing a finger past my entrance and inside of me. It’s so sudden, that I nearly buck off the table. At the last possible moment, I force myself still. My body trembles from the exertion.

Caleb huffs a harsh, cruel laugh. He is enjoying my struggle.

With his finger inside of me, he curls down toward my front, pressing into the bundle of nerves inside of me.

“Ah!” I cry out.

At once, Caleb pulls away, nearly tugging his finger all the way out. Just as I think he is about to, he presses in again, this time with a second finger joining the first.

Like this, he teases me. Fingers moving in and out of me, curling down into my g-spot. His other hand continues its ministrations against my clit.

I can’t stop the moans and whimpers that come out of my mouth, especially as they seem to egg Caleb on, encouraging him to move faster, to add more pressure, to push and give like he’s on some kind of single-minded mission to make me scream.

I bite down on my tongue to deny him the satisfaction. Yes, what he is doing to me feels incredible, and my body is reacting. But I hate this man with every fiber of my being.

He is the reason I am down here, about to fight and die in the arena.

He is the one who refuses to listen to reason. I’ve never had a child, much less the child of a King.

But he won’t listen. He’ll never listen.

I’m going to die because he’s a stubborn dickhead.

He continues playing with my body, pushing me to the limits and I feel myself cresting. I claw at the wood of the table, desperate for purchase. My body shakes. Even biting my lip, I can’t hold back my noise.

“Mm… Mmmm!”

“Feels good, does it?” Caleb taunts. His fingers curl and push, and I nearly lose my mind.

Just a little more. That’s all I need.

Then, suddenly, he stops.

Inadvertently, I whimper. I push my body backward, desperate for his touch. I’m so close. Just a little more!

Caleb slowly pulls his hands away from my body.

Turning my head, I look back at him over my shoulder. He’s staring at

the mess I’m making, dripping all over the table. He licks his lips before meeting my gaze.

“Such a wanton slut,” Caleb says. “You want to cum so badly, it hurts, don’t you?” There’s mock sympathy in his voice but his eyes are ice cold.

I don’t say a word, refusing to give in.

Caleb just smirks. “For as long as you refuse to give me the truth, you will never find satisfaction again.”

Chapter 25

“I don’t know anything,” I say weakly, the body still trembling as it slowly, painfully, comes back from the edge.

Caleb’s good humor immediately vanishes. His smirk drops into a

glare of disapproval. “Cover yourself, whore.” In a flourish, he turns away from me and walks to the door.

He’s not giving me any time!

Not wanting to flash the entire pit, I scramble off of the table, grab my panties, and tug them on. Just as I pull my tunic back down, Caleb pulls open the door.

Tristan awaits on the other side with hand sanitizer and a

handkerchief. My face flushes hot as Caleb cleans his hands. For Tristan to have that ready, he would have had to have known what was going on in that room.

I send a quick prayer to whatever gods might be listening that he didn’t hear the way I moaned. It’s bad enough that he knows what went on. I don’t want him to know that I enjoyed it. The shame I feel is nearly overwhelming.

When I step outside of the room, Caleb is already walking forward.

“Follow him,” Tristan tells me.

I’m too ashamed to argue so I follow in Caleb’s shadow.

When Caleb walks into the training area, the entire room tenses. The gladiators stop practicing. Most lower their gazes. Some of the slaves fall to their needs, quick to bow. The Pitmaster turns toward the King and bows deeply at the waist.

“Rise,” Caleb says as he stops before her.

The Pitmaster does as she’s commanded, rising to her full height once more. Tall as she is, she’s still much shorter than Caleb and has to lift her gaze to meet his.

Reaching behind him, Caleb grabs my arm and roughly pulls me to his side.

“I expect this slave to be well-trained and ready for her fight,” Caleb. says.

“Yes, my King,” the Pitmaster says. “Beg pardon, Sir, but I feel I must temper your expectations. This one has never held a sword before.”

Caleb glances sharply at me. “Is this true?”

I nod.

Caleb’s gaze seems to sharpen for a moment before he pushes me away. I stumble but manage not to fall.

“Then you have your work cut out for you,” Caleb says to the Pitmaster.

She lowers her head in reverence. “Yes, my King.”

“Now…” Caleb half-turns, acknowledging Tristan. “Which one dared to touch something that does not belong to him?”

Tristan steps forward slightly, enough to whisper to his king.

Both their gazes shifted to Kidd, who had been practicing with the training dummy before Caleb walked in.

Realizing he’s under scrutiny, he straightens slightly.

“That one,” Caleb says to the Pitmaster, pointing at Kidd.

The Pitmaster follows his gaze. “He goes by Kidd, my King.”

“At the next event, he will go into the arena against 100 men. See if he survives,” Caleb says.

A fight against a hundred men is a death sentence and everyone knows it. Even the strongest of warriors would be overcome by the sheer number of opponents. They could take down 50, and still lose to the remaining half.

The Pitmaster nods. “As you command, my King. I will speak with the scheduler.”

Kidd’s hands curl into tight fists. Hot rage burns in his eyes, yet instead of glaring at his King, he is scowling at me. Quickly, I look away.

That night, as I was resting on my cot, I couldn’t help but remember the feel of Caleb’s hands on me as he played me so near to completion but denied me my release.

What a frustrating, terrible, cruel man.

I’m humiliated and angry, determined to forget the moment ever happened.

Yet I’m also horny as hell and have been ever since Caleb told me to take off my panties.

The man is a devil, taking whatever he wants without asking, and I hate him so much I shake with it.

I shouldn’t want someone who forces himself on me, yet… my body desires him even if my heart does not. The way he makes my body sing, feeling untold pleasures that I never thought I could feel.

Then he denies me release.

Cruel, heartless bastard.

Gods, I wish I could touch myself, and bring myself to completion all on my own. I’m not a stranger to my own body. Though my fingers are not as long and masculine as Caleb’s, I’m certain I can mimic his movements enough to push myself over the edge at last.

But this room with its shoddy walls and open doorway has limited privacy. If I start to touch myself, others will hear and smell and know.

Although… with how damp my pussy is, the smell might already be permeating the air.

My worst fears are confirmed when a visitor darkens my doorway. Glancing over, I see Kidd there, glaring at me, nostrils flaring.

Immediately, I sit up on my cot, pulling my frail, thin blanket over my body. Even in my tunic, I feel exposed. I don’t want him to see any part of me when I’m horny and vulnerable as I am.

“You smell… delicious,” Kidd growls and steps fully into my room.

“I belong to the King,” I remind him. “Didn’t you hear him? Don’t you see these marks?” I gesture to my throat, where the bruises from Caleb’s mouth and hands still linger.

“That same King has condemned me to death,” Kidd says, taking another step toward me. “What will he do if I touch you? Condemn me twice?”

“You still have a chance in the arena,” I say, ignoring the way he scoffs. “If you do this here and now, he’ll kill you without that courtesy.”

“There is no chance for one man against one hundred,” Kidd says. “I’d rather know pleasure before I meet my end.”

With fear quickening my pulse, my heart jolts so hard that it feels lodged in my throat.

“I don’t want you,” I tell him, forcing my voice to calm.

Eyes darkening, he smirks with an almost maniacal pleasure. “That’s a lie. You reek like a bitch in heat. You’re so horny, you’ll take the first man to come along. Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want.”

As he stalks closer, he lowers his hand to his crotch, touching himself through his pants. His dick is swelling. It twitches under the thin fabric.

“Stay away from me,” I say. “I’ll scream.”

“Let them hear how much you like it, bitch,” Kidd growls.

Pushing back the blanket, I try to stand up and make a break for it, but he roughly grabs me around the waist and throws me back down on the bed.

Kidd trains daily, and his muscles are bulky. I have no hope of breaking free as he crawls over me and pins me with his body. That doesn’t mean I won’t try, however, as I thrash under him. When his face gets too close, I try to snap my teeth at him.

He grins as he stays just out of reach of my mouth.

“Do you fight like this with King Caleb?” he asks. “No wonder he’s laid

claim to you so fiercely. Too bad he sent you down here to Hell, though. Not even the King’s rules survive down here.”

“He’ll kill you!” I shout.

“Then I’ll die happy,” he growls, and grabbing the front of my tunic, tears it open.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Chapter 26

Both of our gazes shoot to the open doorway, where the Pitmaster stands, her face twisted in disbelief.

“You would dare disobey your king?”

“The King who condemned me?” Kidd snaps. “What loyalty do I have to him? Besides, we both know if he really cared about this slut, he wouldn’t have sent her down here to die. Let me have my fun, Pitmaster. You can surely smell how horny this bitch is. Go the other way and let us have our pleasure.”

“No!” I shout, struggling once more under the shackles of his body. He only pushes down harder against me, digging his dig into the corner of my thigh.

Unlike Caleb, who held me down too, my body does not react with excitement or pleasure. Instead, it goes cold, entirely clamming up. Neither my mind nor my body want this vile man to touch me.

The Pitmaster lightly scents the air.

“The only thing I smell on her is fear,” the Pitmaster says. Slowly, she unsheathes her sword from her back.

Kidd starts to growl.

“Step away from the slave, or I will cut your dick off,” the Pitmaster says. “This is your only warning.”

With my tunic ripped, my chest is exposed. Kidd looks back at me, his gaze tracing all of the exposed skin he can see.

“Stay right here,” he whispers to me. “I’m going to put the Pitmaster in her place and come back for you.”

“What the hell did you say?” the Pitmaster says, annoyed.

Kidd pushes his way off of me. When I’m free, I press myself into the corner, as far away from him as I can possibly be.

“You’re washed up, hag,” Kidd says. As he rights himself, he slides a dagger from his boot. Even from where I am, I can see that it’s dripping with poison. “Everyone knows it. You might have fought your way to your current title, but you haven’t fought to keep it.”

“If you think you can take me, then fight me fairly,” the Pitmaster says.

“What’s fair about this place?”

At once, he throws his dagger. The Pitmaster, slashes her sword, blocking it. While she is doing that, Kidd grabs another dagger from the back of his belt and rushes forward to catch the Pitmaster unawares.

“Watch out!” I shout, rushing forward.

This is all my fault. I’m not about to let this woman die because my horniness attracted this asshole bent on revenge.

Pushing myself forward as fast as I can, I collide with Kidd’s back, hoping to catch him off guard.

It works, he stumbles, and in that moment of stunned hesitation, the Pitmaster raises her sword and strikes Kidd straight through the heart.

I scurry backward as the blade continues to piece through him, coming all the way through the other side.

I fall down onto my ass, narrowly avoiding the strike.

Kidd, coughing blood, drops the moment the Pitmaster pulls her sword back through and free. On the floor, Kidd bleeds out. He’s not breathing anymore.

I stare, shocked, my hands shaking. Before I arrived here, I saw zero dead bodies. Now, I’ve already watched two people die outright, and others be whipped and punished.

Once again, I’m reminded how much of a terrible place this truly is. No one is safe.

The Pitmaster sighs as she wipes the blood off her sword using the back of Kidd’s shirt. Once it’s clean, she returns it to the holster on her back.

“What a waste,” she says. “His 100 to 1 arena fight would have been worth seeing. He could have died an honorable warrior’s death. Instead, he dies a coward with his pants down.”

The Pitmaster glances up at me. I can only imagine what I must look like to her, trembling and pale, wrapping my arms around my chest to hold the pieces of my tunic closed.”

“We have a long way to go with your training,” she says, “if you cannot even defend yourself against one horny asshole who didn’t even pull his knife on you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. She’s right, I suppose, but I’m too shaken to see things logically. I just really, really, really want to go home. There, Samuel as Alpha could keep me safe. Even as my brother-in-law, he wouldn’t let these terrible things keep happening to me. As a family, he’d keep me safe.

Here, I’ve never been so in danger in all my life.

“I’m grateful…” I tell her when I can speak. “If you weren’t here…”

I don’t want to think about what might have happened. It makes my stomach twist so hard, I might be sick. I’m barely hanging on as it is, with the corpse bleeding out in the space between us.

“It wasn’t a coincidence,” the Pitmaster says. “King Caleb ordered me to check on you throughout the night. He had a suspicion that this one…” She kicks Kidd with the toe of her boot. “Might try to get some revenge from you. I thought he meant to kill you… Though he might have still, after.”

I curl my arms tighter around myself.

“I realize now the King probably had the right idea,” the Pitmaster says. “I believe he wants you unspoiled.”

“I’m not a virgin,” I say.

“That doesn’t matter to the king, so what does it matter to anyone else?” The Pitmaster glances me over. “I’ll find you a different tunic, but let me warn you. Everyone in this hell could smell your pheromones before Kidd stepped into your room. The warriors are amped up all the time, with few outlets for release. Be more mindful of the smells you put off.”

My face heated at once. I knew I was horny, but I didn’t realize I’d been giving up such a powerful odor.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t apologize,” she says. “Just do better.”

The Pitmaster finds me a fresh tunic which is somehow even more uncomfortable than the burlap one. She makes me wait in the canteen while my room is cleaned, or, while Kidd’s body is dragged away from it. When I’m free to return, there’s still a bloodstain on the floor.

I try not to notice it, returning to my bed.

I know I need my strength to survive the training that the Pitmaster has planned for me, but as hard as I try to sleep, I just can’t.

After everything that’s happened since my arrival down here to the coliseum’s depths, I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep again.

In the early morning, the Pitmaster hands me a smaller sword than the previous one I’ve been using.

“This might be easier for you to handle,” she says.

I swing it around this way and that. It does seem easier to manage.

“Now, keep that one you at all times, like it’s an extension of your arm,” the Pitmaster says. Stepping closer, she whispers, “The wolves here have caught your scent. At this rate, you might need to use it before you ever step foot in the arena.”

I’m not sure what she means at first, but then, looking around, I notice many of the gladiators, and even some of the slaves, staring at me.

They look like they want to eat me alive.

Chapter 27

Under the tutelage of the Pitmaster, I begin to train more fully. The smaller blade is easier to manage and I can make several quick strikes against the training dummy without tiring.

“Not good enough,” the Pitmaster says. “You are still too slow. And your need for breaks is too frequent. With how light your strikes are, you will need to hit the animals several times to down them. They would wait for you to recover.”

Nodding, I try again. This time I add more force to my strikes but tire even quicker.

“You are dead about twelve times over already,” the Pitmaster says. “It’s like you aren’t even trying.”

“I am trying,” I insist. My limbs are sore, my body drained. We’ve been training all day with limited breaks. My body would be bound to be tired. Even I can tell that I’m slower than I was this morning.

“You have to fight like your life depends on it, girl,” the Pitmaster says, disdain in her voice. “Because it does.” She stared at me fiercely for a moment, a gaze I tried to mimic and return. Seeing that, she sighed. “Look around you. Every person in here would take your life in an instant without question.”

Following the Pitmaster’s orders, I glance around the room. The gladiators are closest and all are eyeing me. Those without masks, I can even see how hungry their expressions are. Whether they are hungry for my blood or my flesh, I can’t tell. Either way, they are a threat to me.

“If I cannot harden you to survive the things that you will need to face here, then you will cower and die without even putting up a fight,” the Pitmaster says.

I don’t know what more she expects me to see. Since I’ve entered the walls of this capital, I’ve seen two brutal deaths, terrible whippings, and even been subjected to my own punishments. Kidd, last night alone, tried to assault me.

It sends a small chill through me, knowing that she wants me to experience even darker things. Or that she thinks I need to see those darker things to survive.

The Pitmaster looks around the room again. This time her gaze falls onto a cowering servant girl. “You. Come here.”

The servant girl hurries to obey.

“Face her,” the Pitmaster says. The girl does as she’s commanded. “On your knees.” The girl falls to her knees.

To me, the Pitmaster says, “Lift your blade and slit this slave’s throat.”

The girl’s eyes go wide but she doesn’t move a muscle.

My own hand starts to shake.

“If you cannot kill this one, you will never be able to kill another,” the Pitmaster says.

“S…-She’s innocent,” I say. “She’s not even fighting me.”

“She’s here, isn’t she? Then she’s done something to deserve it.” The Pitmaster pats the top of the girl’s head. “Tell Harper why you are here, girl.”

The girl swallows thickly but obeys. “I poisoned one of the harem.”

“And what happened to the woman you poisoned?”

“She died.”

The Pitmaster lifts her brow while looking at me, as if to say, Not as innocent as you think.

Even so, I can’t cut her down. She is a living, breathing person and she’s down on her knees. This would be an execution.

“She was to be in the 1 v 100 fight with Kidd,” the Pitmaster says. “You think you do her mercy by stilling your blade, but do you really? She is bound for death. Wouldn’t she rather have a quick death? A slice across the throat?”

I close my fist tighter around the blade. If that’s true, then maybe it would be more of a kindness to…

No. I’m not a killer. I only want to survive this place, not become one of the monsters that live within its walls. If that means, I lose my own fight, so be it.

I throw down my blade. It clatters on the ground right in front of the girl.

“I will not execute someone,” I say.

However, in the time it takes to say it, the girl grabs my discarded blade, jumps to her feet, and tries to stab me.

I step backwards but the Pitmaster moves faster. Bringing down her sword, she lobs the girl’s hand clean off. The girl cries and crumples. My sword… and her hand… fall to the ground.

“Did I not tell you that is an extension of your arm?!” the Pitmaster scolds, shouting at me now. “Did I not tell you that everyone in this place would kill you in an instant?! Your hesitation will be your end!”

Scrambling, I bend down to pick up my weapon. I hold it defensively, fearful of an attack from a different direction. Around me, the other fighters seem amused but do not bother me.

Then, I see Tristan walking forward. As he approaches, he glances down at the whimpering girl with distaste.

“Clean that up will you?” he says to another group of slaves who rush forward at once and drag the girl away. When she’s gone, Tristan continues coming forward.

“King’s Beta,” the Pitmaster says with a small bow. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit again so soon in our pit?”

“Speak with the scheduler,” Tristan says. “The King wishes for this one to fight tomorrow.”

The Pitmaster’s eyes go as wide as my own. “Tomorrow? She’s not ready.”

“She’s ready enough for the King’s wishes,” Tristan says. “We don’t want to disappoint him, do we?”

“No,” the Pitmaster says at once. She looks at me with pity, like I’m dead already. “Well, I tried.”

“Harper,” Tristan says, reclaiming my attention. “Walk with me.”

I continue to hold my sword, but now I carry it by my side.

Tristan immediately begins walking so I hurry to follow him. He slows enough that I can walk beside him. Maybe he doesn’t want someone armed at his back, even someone as sloppy as I am.

“You can make this stop,” Tristan says. “Our King is ruthless but also generous to those who give loyalty. If you tell him where the child is, he will extend mercy.”

Again with the child. Is there truly nothing I can say to get them to believe me?

“I speak only the truth,” I tell him. “There’s not, nor has there ever been, a child.”

“You continue with this story,” Tristan says with a sigh. “The King will not be pleased.”

“Trust me,” I grumble. “I wish I had a different answer to give. I know my life is about to be forfeited. But…” If I even try to lie, Caleb will likely take it out on my pack. He probably will anyway, but I will not allow my own words to bring down harm to them. “I can’t lie about this.”

“That is unfortunate,” Tristan says but doesn’t clarify. Does he mean that I’m telling the truth, or that I won’t lie? I don’t bother asking, knowing it doesn’t truly matter either way.

Tomorrow, I will step into the arena and be torn apart by animals.

Caleb tries to concentrate on the paperwork before him while eagerly awaiting his Beta’s report. He has heard about what happened last night to Harper. When he settles from his rage, learning the slave is unharmed and the perpetrator dead, he realizes the benefits of this act of treason.

This, surely, would be enough to scare Harper into revealing the truth about his child.

A knock sounds at the door.

“Enter,” Caleb says.

Tristan does, his face grim. That doesn’t bode well. Anger already starts churning inside of Caleb.

“She still denies it,” Tristan says.

“Even knowing she will face the beasts in the arena tomorrow?” Caleb asks.

“Even so,” Tristan replies.

“Then the fight will continue,” Caleb says. “When she faces the maws

of the beasts, she will tell the truth.”

Tristan’s jaw clenches. He wishes to speak.

Caleb waves at him to do so.

“What if she doesn’t?” Tristan asks.

Caleb laughs at the absurdity of that. “Then she will die a liar.”

Chapter 28

With my sword resting at my side, I don’t sleep at all that night. When the morning comes, and the Pitmaster summons me, I’m almost relieved to finally face my fate. Lying awake all night, stressing and dreading this moment has not been kind to my mind and body.

I’m not suicidal, but I want this stress to end.

“They rushed this scheduling on purpose,” the Pitmaster says as she leads me down away from the main area where we practiced and slept. Along the wall, I see a rod-iron gate blocking what appears to be a lift. Two guards stand at either side of it, no one within.

The Pitmaster continues, “They didn’t want to give you time to properly train. This was only ever about punishment for you. Whatever you did to earn the ire of the king, he must hate you for it.”

“He does,” I say, though she isn’t really listening to me.

“With more time, I could have molded you into someone who might have stood a chance. As it is now, those beasts are going to eat you alive. The King knows it too. He wants it to happen.”

At the gate, the Pitmaster nods to the guards who start to open it. As they do, she turns to me.

“It is unlikely, but if you have any hope of surviving this, never let your guard down. Remember, your blade is an extension of your arm. Never drop it.”

I lift the blade slightly, showing her I’m listening.

She gives me a pitying look. “I’m very sorry for everything that is about to happen to you.”

Before I can reply the gate opens up and the Pitmaster ushers me past it, onto the lift. Alone. The guards close the gates behind me.

I look back at the Pitmaster, but she has already turned away.

This is it. Just me and my fate now.

The lift slowly begins to climb.

Unlike other elevators I’ve ridden in, this one is not an enclosed box. Rather, it’s a single platform under my feet that rises and rises.

Looking up, I see only darkness. Then, no. A slit of bright light suddenly appears. When it opens farther, I squeeze my eyes shut. There are very few lights in the bowels of the coliseum. Wherever I am headed now seems flooded within.

The roar of a crowd echoes down the elevator shaft. As I fully ascend and the base of the elevator comes to a stop, the noise is near deafening.

Then, I realize the crowd is booing me.

“Traitor!” someone screams, and then someone else does too, until the entire arena shouts again and again, “Traitor! Traitor!”

Blinking, I force my eyes to adjust to the new light.

Looking around, I find myself standing in the center of the sandy arena, the only bare spot is the elevator lift under my feet. In the lifted seats around me are thousands of people – possibly hundreds of thousands.

On a platform jutting forward from the rest is a single throne. Even at his distance from me, I can tell that Caleb is there, watching me.

Caleb expects Harper to cower in fear. She’s been brave up until this point, standing against him at every turn, denying him the location of his child. But surely here, now, when faced with thousands of people mocking her and the reality of her upcoming, gruesome death, she will surrender.

She will tell him what he wants to know and save herself.

As expected, she appears frightened, spinning around, unsure where to put her back. There’s no safe place in the arena.

Yet even afraid, she still lifts her sword as if she intends to fight.

“Impossible,” Caleb curses under his breath. Does she not understand the danger here? Has she no sense of self-preservation?

Tristan, standing at Caleb’s side, watches him almost as intently as Caleb watches Harper. With irritation, Caleb can feel tell he’s being seen.

“She is foolishly brave,” Tristan says.

“She is only testing me,” Caleb replies curtly. He did not give Tristan permission to speak, and wouldn’t in front of all these people. “She still thinks I will save her from the maws of my beasts.”

“Will you?”

Turning sharply, Caleb glares at Tristan. “Mind your tongue, Beta. You speak too freely as of late.”

Tristan lowered his head in apologetic reverence and stepped backward.

Without his beta’s incessant chattering, Caleb returned his attention to the matter at hand in front of him. Mainly, the wild-eyed woman down in the sand.

If she believes him to be merciful, then she has no idea who she is dealing with.

Caleb lifts his hand, a signal to the gate-wardens and beast handlers.

The crowd cheers as at several locations around the round arena pit, the gates holding back the animals begin to lift.

From the dark pits beyond the gates, three lionesses surge into the arena, snarling sharply as they come forth. Gifts from a foreign king, they are agile and strong, while also bred for their viciousness. These are not mere wild lions. They were born in captivity for the sake of the fight.

They were made for this.

Fear rattles through Harper’s ribcage, but she has no time to dwell on it while in the ring with three snarling lions.

The crowd cheers as the lions circle around me, eyeing me as their prey.

Lionesses are used to hunting in groups. This competition was never going to be fair.

Once, briefly, I think of falling onto my own sword, ending my suffering before the lions can tear me apart, but as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I dismiss it.

I may be facing impossible odds, but I don’t want to die.

I’m going to fight until my last breath.

One of the lions darts closer, quickly. I slash at it to keep it back.

The crowd roars its approval. Sickening, that so many people would take pleasure in this. They know my slim chances. They know the lions are going to rip me apart. But that’s what they want to see, isn’t it?

Carnage.

Combined with their perceived justice. To them, I am a traitor to the crown. They have no idea that I’ve been telling the truth all along.

Another lion draws too close. I slice with a warning at that one as well.

The third growls at me.

The circle they are making around me has been growing smaller. Soon they will all be upon me.

“You want me?!” I shout at them, adrenaline and blind dumb courage pushing me forward. “Then come taste my blade!”

Another darts toward me. I swing at it, forcing that one back. But a second uses this opening to its advantage and swings at me. I lurch forward at the last moment, but the tips of its claws scrape across my back, tearing through my tunic and a layer of skin underneath.

The wound stings, but it’s not deep. I can keep going, even as blood drips down my back.

Turning I swing, forcing that lion back, only to find the third moving closer.

“Stay back, damn it!” I shout and make another wild swing. And another.

Spinning in circles, I swing as much as I can to keep them back away from me.

Already, I’m growing weary.

I can’t give up. I won’t give up. I keep swinging.

But a hopelessness starts to rise up within me.

I’m going to die here.

Chapter 29

Concentrating, Caleb masterfully uses his werewolf aura to control the lionesses down in the arena. Without his influence, they would have devoured Harper within the first minute of being released.

He can’t let things end that quickly.

The lionesses are hungry, though. The tug against his control, eager for blood and meat. Their desperation annoys Caleb. He will have to speak with the beast master, to make certain the animals are not being neglected.

These beasts are bred for conflict. They do not need to be starved to be bloodthirsty.

He’ll take the beast master’s head if he finds these animals have been mistreated. He might anyway, just for making this part of Caleb’s plan so difficult.

The lionesses are getting too close. One even manages to break Caleb’s pull long enough to claw at Harper’s back. While he’s not overly displeased with the punishment bestowed upon this lying slave, he does not want to draw blood yet.

He wants to tire Harper out first, bring her down into the deepest pit of despair, where she is too weak to even defend herself anymore.

Then, Caleb will finally break that strong will of hers.

As Harper continues to swing with embarrassing sloppiness, she’s already growing weary. Caleb is surprised. He thought she would last twice this long.

But then, he recalls, she does not have a wolf to give her strength.

She is a mere human, facing off against three well-trained beasts.

Perhaps he should have requested only one.

Two lionesses move closer at once, working as a team. Harper swings her sword wide, cutting into the space of both lions, who expertly dodge away.

The swing puts Harper off-balance. Perhaps her wound is starting to drain her. Humans don’t heal as quickly as werewolves, Caleb recalls. They’ll just keep bleeding until they are treated by doctors.

Three Lions is definitely too many.

The break in Caleb’s concentration allows the third lion to break free from his restraint.

The lioness pounces, tackling Harper to the ground. Her blade flies from her hand.

No, no, no!

I push my hands up into the lion’s throat, trying to keep its snapping jaw away from me. It’s so strong, it could break my hold at any time, but it doesn’t, almost like it’s playing with me.

While holding it back with one arm, I try to reach toward my sword with the other.

It’s the extension of my arm. To lose it is to die.

If the Pitmaster is watching, she is likely disappointed.

I’m not a warrior. I never have been. I was raised spoiled from my youth, and then treated as a servant after my disgrace. I could do hard labor. I could tend the fields and scrub the floors from day to night. But I knew nothing of holding a sword. Of fighting lions.

I want to go home so badly it hurts. I’d give anything to have Leah pour hot tea on my arms.

Anything but this. Anything but death.

But then, as suddenly as the lions pounced on me, they slink away. They continue to circle, snarling and spitting, but as I sit up to look at them, they almost seem to be waiting for something.

Grabbing my sword, I hurry up onto my feet and hold it ready once more.

Are they toying with me?

Are they -?

Looking up, I see that Caleb has stood from his throne. Moving toward the edge of his platform, he holds up his hands in silent command. Immediately the crowd obeys, quieting.

I wish someone would push him. From that platform, he would fall straight into this arena pit with me. Let him fight these lions.

But that’s a foolish fantasy, driven by adrenaline and desperation. He’s the only one with any power here – power he even seems to have over these beasts.

“Slave,” Caleb calls loudly. His voice carries oddly well for a space this expansive. It seems to echo all around her. “If you beg me now for mercy, I may consider it. Tell me what you know I want, and I might even let you live.”

I could lie. I could tell him I know where the child is and then make something up. He’d eventually discover the ruse, but at that time, I could try to find another way out of there.

Or, I could make him so angry that he decides to torture me slowly instead. He’s so ruthless, that he would likely even torture those I care for right in front of me.

He’d already been planning on allowing my pack to be attacked by the bear clan. Who it be such a leap from that to hurting them in front of me?

So I can’t lie. To protect my pack and myself.

“I don’t have the answers you are looking for,” I tell him.

His face twists in anger. “Tell me where the child is!” he shouts. The angry bellow echoes all around me, making even the lions wince.

He expects me to cower at his rage like so many others do all around him. Even now, I can tell, half of the spectators are dipping their heads in apologetic reverence, like they are the ones who did something wrong.

I’m facing the sharp teeth of lions and the prospect of being ripped apart and eaten alive. I don’t have time to be concerned over his paltry anger.

Lifting my head in defiance and my own building rage, I shout my response. “There was never a child!”

Caleb starts to growl. How dare this lowly slave continue to stand against him? He is King. He is Alpha. Her very life sits in the palm of his hands and she acts like she doesn’t care.

Does she have a death wish? Is she using him as a means to that end?

“If you continue to defy me, I will have the lions kill you slowly. Do you understand the pain that would bring? You could live for hours, feeling their claws dig into your flesh, and their teeth at your throat, but never enough to kill you.”

“I’m not afraid!” she shouts. It’s a blatant lie. The fear is obvious on her face, yet even with that fear, she stands against him. She disrespects him.

This cannot stand. He will simply have to let the lions take a few more pieces of her, inch by inch.

How many pieces will it take until she finally crumbles to his will?

“I am a generous King,” Caleb calls. “You have one last chance to beg me for your life.”

“I will never beg!” she shouts.

Suddenly, the image of Harper, naked and writhing beneath him as he plunges into her, fills his mind. He could fuck her for hours, keeping her on edge, stopping ever before she found release.

“Please…” she would beg so sweetly. He’d keep up the blissful torture just to see her cry.

He could make her beg, alright. With his tongue, his hands, his dick…

Blinking, he returns to the coliseum, to that same woman glaring at him as if she has some power in a pit surrounded by lions at his control.

This woman does not deserve the pleasures he’s already given her.

Caleb returns to his throne and sits down, a signal the fight should continue.

Chapter 30

Whatever was holding the beasts back seems to have vanished now.

Sword in hand, I slash this way and that, but still they prowl closer as if looking for a chance to strike. I do my best to hold them off, but I am no warrior. My back hurts, and I am growing tired.

I fight as hard as I can, even though my body starts to move sluggishly.

I won’t give up. They won’t take me easily.

Caleb intently watches Harper from his perched platform.

That she continues to fight so ardently, however amateurishly, both impresses him and annoys him. Why must she continue to be so stubborn? Even now, if she were to reach her hand out to him for mercy, he would grant it.

If she would only admit her wrongdoing, none of this would be necessary. She could return to the palace and live a life of moderate comfort as his slave. If she stayed loyal to him, she wouldn’t need to fear for her life at the claws and jaws of ferocious animals.

Yet her stubbornness continues to push her into making bad choices.

He needs to let the lions push her a little more, tear into her… Then, she will reach for him. With tears in her eyes, she will beg to be saved.

Caleb will finally have what he wants.

A lion takes a swing at Harper, catching her across the leg. She stumbles.

A second lion moves to pounce. Caleb sharply sends out his aura, forcing that lion down. It growls in its own defiance, even as it obeys. The beasts are growing restless.

Soon, they might stop listening to his commands entirely.

Harper is running out of time to beg forgiveness.

“My King,” Tristan says. He must be able to sense it too. “Perhaps if you stop the fight again…”

“She remains defiant,” Caleb says. He can see the fire in her eyes, even outmatched as she is. On her knees, she still swings her sword.

“But my King…”

Caleb has already berated Tristan for speaking out of turn once. For him to do so again, knowing he’ll likely be punished for it, sends a harsh reality zipping through Caleb’s mind.

Harper would rather die than give in.

In fact, as if solely to spite him, she seems set on dying.

He can see now, with growing, annoying certainty that this woman plans to take her secrets to the grave with her.

Caleb starts to growl.

I can’t keep this up. My sword arm is so exhausted that I’ve added a second hand to the hilt just to keep swinging. On my knees, I know it will only take one more strike to end me.

They say cats go straight for the jugular, ending their prey’s life with one sharp clench of their jaws. I can only hope that my end is as quick, though I have no expectations of mercy.

If Caleb wants to see me suffer, he will see it. I can’t do hell about it.

Finally, a lion pounces me from the back, forcing my face down into the sand. I’m so weary, that I struggle to push up my face, let alone my entire body.

Crawling over me, the lion opens its mouth. Its teeth lower around my neck.

Closing my eyes, I spare a thought for Samuel. Though his recent

coldness tears at my heart, I am warmed by the memories we once shared.

He loves me, I’m sure of it.

I wish he was here. I wish he would save me from this.

Reaching out my hand, with my last breath, I cry, “Samuel…” Then everything goes dark.

Seeing red, Caleb roars.

As he leaps from the platform down into the arena, his body shifts halfway into his massive Alpha wolf. The instant his paws touch the sand, he darts forward, quick as lighting, and plows into the lion covering Harper.

The lion catapults halfway across the arena. It lands on its feet but wobbles uncertainly, shaken.

Turning toward the two other lions, Caleb releases a deep, guttural growl from the very back of his throat. The lions immediately cower in fear and submission. Many people in the audience do as well. Some outright flee in fear.

Caleb stamps his massive paws onto the ground, standing solidly over Harper.

Beneath him, even unconscious, she whimpers and cries. The tang of her blood hangs heavy in the air. It turns Caleb’s stomach, forcing his growl even louder.

How dare anyone else draw blood from what is his?

“My King!” Tristan calls. He’s in the arena now, slowly approaching Caleb in his own weak human form, his hands forward as if to calm Caleb’s raging wolf.

Nearby the beast master and other arena guards are corralling the lions, driving them back into the dark of the cages below. It doesn’t take all that much convincing. The lions know they are unmatched against a two-story-tall monster wolf on a blood rage.

Only Tristan seems foolish enough to actually approach him. “My King…” Tristan lowers his head in reverence and submission. “If you hope to save her, my King, you must allow the doctors to tend to her.”

He inches closer, which is neither Caleb nor wolf-like. Caleb growls, low and deep in warning.

“She’ll bleed out as she is, my King,” Tristan continues. “Remember, she is a lowly human. She’ll need doctors to save her life.”

Harper whimpers again, her breath is shaky.

Caleb can hear her heart struggling to beat.

Yet despite her pain, she still whispers a name. “Samuel…”

Caleb freezes all over. The snap pushes back his bloodrage for a moment allowing him to see things clearer, to remember who this woman is, and to realize what it is he is doing.

Why is he defending her so fiercely?

He shakes his head.

More people are approaching, triggering his natural instincts once more.

“Doctors, my King,” Tristan explains.

Tristan. His Beta. He can trust Tristan.

He doesn’t need to trust Tristan. He doesn’t care about this woman at all…

But she mustn’t die. That much he knows for certain, even if everything else is a confused jumble of unanswered questions and mixed feelings within him.

Slowly, Caleb backs his massive wolf body away from the frail woman.

Tristan nods to the approaching group of people, who rush in to tend to Harper. As they work, Tristan approaches Caleb.

Forcing himself to breathe deeply, Caleb claws back his wolf form and shifts into his human form once more. As angry as he remains, he doesn’t quite make it all the way. His canines remain sharp and his claws extended and curled, sharp.

His clothes were shredded previously with his shift, and he stands in full nakedness, but he is not ashamed.

“The doctors will do their work,” Tristan says. “But we must allow them the space to do so.”

“I do not take orders from a beta,” Caleb snaps. His voice isn’t quite fully human. Everything he says sounds like a growl.

Tristan lowers his head again but does not even wince otherwise.

Caleb pushes past him, enraged. The doctors still do their work to look up at him.

“If she dies,” Caleb snarls. “You will share her fate.”

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