The Lycan King’s Defiant Surrogate by Riley Above Story (Chapters 51 to 60)

Chapter 51

Walking into the closet, I collect all the spare pieces of fabric and lace that the thieves left behind. Then I carry it back into the other room.

By now, Bethany has pulled herself together enough to stand. She meets me beside the bed, where I drop all the fabrics down.

She saved me once before, sewing my dress up masterfully. I can only hope she’ll do the same again now.

“Can you do anything with this?” I ask her.

She comes through the fabrics, picking some up, then putting them back down.

“Maybe if I had enough time. But you need something right now. I don’t have a clue how I could…”

She picks up a bit of lace as she side-eyes the dress I’m currently wearing.

“Think of something?” I ask.

“A bolt of inspiration. You take that off, I need to find some real scissors.”

With that, we went our separate ways for a moment, as I shrugged off my dress and she tracked down some scissors bigger than those in her sewing kit. She returns just as I finish disrobing, carrying both a sewing basket and a sewing machine under her arm.

She sets up at the small two-person table. I bring her my dress, self-conscious to be walking around in my underwear, but there is literally nothing to wear. It’s just Bethany anyway, as long as no one comes through the door.

Dress in hand, Bethany sets to work, Cutting and stitching and snatching that lace fabric off the bed. She works in a whirl, knowing time is of the essence.

Ten minutes later, she pulls the pile of fabric away from the sewing machine, looks at it with a critical eye, and then hands it to me.

“Try this on,” she says.

Caleb checks the time on his phone. What the hell is taking Harper so long?

He saw what happened as she went to the food table, spotting the moment one of his other consorts spilled wine on her dress. He followed behind, taking appropriate action in dismissing that offending consort – her punishment is yet to be decided in his mind.

Harper seemed to go off to change.

Caleb for a fact knows that she has a closet full of dresses. Hells, he put them there. So what is taking the woman so damn long to make up her mind?

When ten minutes becomes twenty, he feels a headache start to form. It’s becoming increasingly more difficult to be as considerate to these asshole lords as he usually is.

In fact, as Lord Larkin, the supposed man of the hour, approaches him, Caleb shoots him a glare so deadly it should melt glass.

Lord Larkin smartly moves away, at least for a moment. Whatever sliver of courage he has, he rallies, then returns with his face all nervously scrunched up.

Caleb really doesn’t have the patience for this, but Tristan has kindly asked him to stop killing the lords or they won’t be able to replace them. He went further, saying if they can’t replace the lords, then Caleb is going to have to do more paperwork himself.

Likely that meant that Tristan would have to do more paperwork, not Caleb. But Caleb could be sympathetic to that plight.

A strong kingdom is like a table that needs sturdy legs to stand on.

Caleb is very capable, but he still can’t physically be everywhere at once. He needs these assholes to help him.

That means he has to be nice every once in a while.

“What do you want?” Caleb snaps.

Lord Larkin immediately cowers. Good. Let him be afraid.

“I-it is my birthday, King Caleb…” Lord Larkin says. Then he looks at Caleb expectantly.

Gods, he should just get to the point. If he thinks Caleb is going to pretend to care about his birthday, he’s going to be sorely a mistake. Caleb’s already at this banquet. That should be more than enough caring.

As if realizing that Caleb is not going to say anything more, Lord Larkin stumbles on.

“I-I was hoping we could get to discuss some of the trade agreements…”

“Speak to my Beta,” Caleb says. “He will see to your request.”

“Uh…” Lord Larkin clearly wants to say more, but under Caleb’s intense glare, he bottles whatever else he has to say right back up inside of him. “Of course, my King. Thank you, my King.”

As he scurries away, Caleb is more annoyed now.

That annoyance stays with him as he turns toward the door to the hall.

Harper is back, and she has changed.

But that dress…

A possessive growl escapes the back of Caleb’s throat.

The dress is similar in color to what she had on previously, but the entire midsection, where the wine had been spilled, was missing, and in its place was sheer, translucent lace. As it is, her breasts are barely covered, with only a tiny jut of fabric hiding her nipples.

The swell, the underside, the valley in between. All on display for these lesser men’s greedy eyes.

Caleb’s annoyance heightens tenfold, boiling into hot anger.

Just then a couple of the other consorts try to approach him. He has no time for them and their petty foolishness. He immediately pushes past them before they can say a word and rushes to Harper.

A few women guests have approached her, complimenting her dress. One even asks who the designer is.

Harper blushes slightly as she replies, “It’s a secret.”

Caleb storms to her with such long, angry strides, that people glance at him and quickly duck out of the way.

The only person who doesn’t seem to be afraid of him is Harper, who lifts her chin in defiance at his approach. Infuriating woman.

“What are you wearing?” Caleb growls.

“A dress,” Harper replies flatly.

Caleb narrows his eyes. “You would wear something so revealing in front of all these lesser men?”

Harper seems confused as she glances around. “I’m far from the only one, my King. Your other consorts wear even less than me.”

Maybe she’s right. Caleb hasn’t given the other members of his harem much attention.

Frankly, he couldn’t care less what they were wearing.

Yet with Harper… Knowing men can see her like this makes his blood boil.

“Perhaps you need another lesson to remind you who you belong to,” Caleb replies.

A faint, delectable blush rises in her cheeks.

Any other time, Caleb would make a show of this torment. But she is still wearing that infuriating dress. In the corner of his eye, Caleb can see Lord Larkin openly gawking at her.

“You will return to your rooms and find a more suitable dress,” Caleb commands.

Harper falters for a moment, her face shifting between emotions. Caleb, watchful, catches the sight of hurt when it briefly crosses her face.

Surely, she does not think of his command as an insult? It is only because of his infuriating impartiality to her that he cares about this at all.

“I won’t,” she says.

Caleb’s irritation starts to prickle his skin. Did she just… defy him? In front of all his lords?

“You will do as I command or I will see you punished, treacherous woman!” he bellows.

She winces, well. Be afraid, wench. Know his power and tremble!

“I won’t because I can’t,” she says, voice softer now. Caleb can hear it clearly but others would have to strain too.

Caleb’s anger still burns hot, he hates being defied, but now he has questions too.

Is something preventing her from fulfilling his commands?

So he asks, “Why?”

Chapter 52

Caleb follows me back to my room. I’m annoyed, frankly, because Bethany put a lot of effort into this dress only for me to be unable to truly show it off. But Caleb’s insistence has me moving my feet, booking it back to my room and then to my closet.

Bethany is still in the rooms, cleaning up from the masterful miracle she performed on this dress. She looks at me in confusion, yet the moment she sees Caleb coming in behind me, she pales and quickly ducks out of the room, leaving her sewing machine, basket, and other fabrics behind.

Caleb doesn’t even glance at her, though he does notice the sewing machine. He glares at it before focusing again on me.

I stand outside of my closet door and wait for him to peer inside.

“This is why I can’t change,” I tell him.

He stills in the doorway to the closet. Then, as he takes a step inside, his entire body tenses, his shoulders going rigid, his eyes flashing red.

“Where are the clothes I bought for you?” he says.

“I don’t know. Bethany says they were stolen.”

Caleb swivels on his heel, sending his glare my way once more. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

A low growl emits from the back of his throat. “I tire of your continued ignorance.”

“I didn’t see them. I wasn’t here,” I say.

Caleb looks away from me, back to the empty room. “It has to be members of the harem. No one else would be allowed back here.”

I can’t deny that.

“But you still refuse to give me specific names…”

I keep my mouth firmly clamped.

“Perhaps I should purge the lot of them,” Caleb mutters, as if to himself. “I could easily start over again.”

“That’s too excessive,” I say at once, worried he might actually follow through. I’m not sure how many members of the harem there are, exactly. I know it grows all the time with the tributes sent. Those women are included, even if the King mostly ignores them.

I couldn’t stand even one loss of life made in my name. Now he’s talking about dozens, maybe even a hundred?

Needing to soothe that bloodlust in him before he went out of control, I slowly stepped to his side. Reaching out, I placed a hand on the center of his bag and began to lightly massage.

Immediately, some of the tension eased from his body.

“I suppose that much murder would infuriate the packs…” Caleb says, growing incrementally calmer. “They send their women to me to gain my favor, but also to show their own strength.”

That makes sense, I suppose. The more consorts in the harem that a pack had, the more important they would consider themselves. To slaughter all those women, in addition to just being a horrible, evil action, would also alienate those packs.

The King, to have power over his kingdom, needed complacency. With that much murder, he’d have to worry about uprisings, even more than he already did.

I’m hoping the cruel nature of a purge would stop Caleb from committing it, but just in case, I’m relieved there are other reasons to keep him from doing so.

As Caleb relaxes, I add my second hand beside the first, to press more fully into his back. Under my hands, I feel the last of his tension ease away.

“You must be some type of sorceress,” he says.

“I’m not,” I assure him. “I’m just a frail human.”

He grunts in disbelief. Then, he turns to me, stopping my ministrations. His eyes search my face, though I’m not sure what he’s looking for. After a moment, he glances away, dissatisfied.

With an annoyed huff, he returns to the main room of my chambers. I follow him out.

He walks toward the entryway, where a bouquet of flowers brightens the room from a side table. Carefully, he pulls a pink peony from the bouquet. She sniffs it lightly.

It’s a strange moment, watching a man so powerful, so deadly even, hold something so fragile. He’s careful not to crush the flowers as he brings them over to me.

He holds it out. “It smells like you.”

My eyes go wide, and my heart races out of control.

Sexual overtures, I expect from him. Gruff, angry demands are the norm.

But this? What is this?

Kindness? Vulnerability almost?

It doesn’t seem real.

I half expect it to be a trap, even as I reach out and accept the flower.

He looks at me strangely then, as if only now realizing what he’s just done. The softness in his eyes hardens at once, returning to its typical low burn of annoyance.

But I get the feeling that annoyance isn’t directed at me, but at himself.

“I will order new clothes for you,” he says. “Do not leave this room until they arrive.”

I’m so stunned by the flower that I nod a little, barely registering his new command.

At my ascent, he swivels on his heel and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

For hours, I sit in my room and wonder over the peony and what it could mean. Bethany returns in time and even she seems dumbfounded.

“He just… gave it to you…?” she asks.

“Yes,” I tell her.

“He didn’t… demand something in return?” she asks.

“No,” I say.

Eventually, a few slaves knock on the door. They enter carrying a few clothes for me, dresses and nightgowns and bras and panties.

Enough to see me through for a few days.

“King Caleb has ordered a new wardrobe for you, but such things take time to prepare,” the person in charge tells me. “These items should suffice in the interim.”

“They do,” I assure him.

The last slave to enter carries with them a vase of fresh peonies. She hands it to me without a word.

Amazed, I look at Bethany. Her eyes are wide.

When the slaves are gone, I hurry to change my outfit.

Giving the dress I had been wearing to Bethany, I tell her, “If we could make it less revealing, I would love to keep wearing your designs.”

Bethany beams, and a spark of happiness ignites within me. It feels good, to make people smile. To bring out the kindness in them.

Glancing at the flowers, I make a decision. “I need to see him. I have to thank him at once.”

Taking one of the peonies with me, I slip out into the hallway and go in search of the King. By now, the party has long since ended and the Hall sits empty. His personal servants tell me he’s not in his chambers. The guards tell me, with a wary look, that he’s on the floors below.

I haven’t taken the stairs downward since my endeavor with the coliseum. But I head that way now, confident that Caleb is a good person deep down.

The flowers have spoken words that he cannot.

Down and down I follow the stairs. The guards who see me look at me curiously but make no effort to stand in my path. It seems my freedoms as a consort are much more than those of a slave.

I spot Tristan in the hallway containing the interrogation rooms, the floor above the dungeons. As I step out of the stairwell, a shriek of pain makes me freeze.

One of the interrogation rooms is open, and from where I’m standing, I can see straight inside.

There’s a man bound to a chair. He’s shirtless with a few fresh dagger wounds crisscrossing his chest.

Caleb walks into view, rounding the man.

In his hand, he’s holding a dagger dripping with blood.

Chapter 53

“You will tell me what I want to know,” Caleb growls, voice far colder than he’s ever used with me, even at his most angry. “You will die either way, but the speed of your death is what remains on the table. If you wish to spare yourself any more pain, you will speak quickly.”

The bound man raises his chin in defiance, even though it trembles. His voice cracks, “I-I’m not afraid!”

Suddenly, Caleb stabs the knife straight down into the bound man’s thigh.

The man screams in pain so loud and bloodcurdling that it makes my entire body convulse. The peony slips from my hands.

Tristan turns at the movement and sees me. He’s standing outside of the door.

Our eyes lock, but he doesn’t say a word. He’s wearing the same bored expression as always.

They are both monsters.

What a fool I was to think Caleb might have a kind side. He is a bloodthirsty, ruthless villain who does not value anyone’s life but his own. A tyrant. A demon.

Fear shatters my mind, quaking through my body.

Tristan glances down at the flower.

I don’t wait around for him to question me. Instead, I spin on my heel and flee.

Once Caleb has the information he needs, he walks out of the interrogation chamber, leaving the rest, and the cleanup, to his guards. The traitor continues to whimper behind him. The guards will give him a quick end.

Tristan waits in the hallway. His back is turned to Caleb, he’s facing the stairs. Slowly, as Caleb approaches, Tristan turns around and reveals that he’s holding a pink peony.

Very much like the ones Caleb gifted to Harper.

“Where did you get that?” Caleb says. He starts to reach for it, but, catching sight of the blood on his hands, stops himself. Better to let Tristan hold it, untarnished.

“She was here,” Tristan says.

Caleb’s blood turns to ice water. “Just now?”

“Yes.”

“She saw.”

“She did,” Tristan confirms.

Caleb isn’t a saint. What does it matter if Harper knows he has to commit darker deeds to protect his kingdom?

She is but a pawn to him, a means to an end. A wet hole that also holds vital information. Any kindness he has shown her has been a mistake.

He is a monster, and she went willingly searching into his lair. Of course, she was going to see him covered in blood, sooner or later.

He won’t bother explaining himself. Let her be afraid of him if she wishes, just like everyone else. Even Tristan looks at him with fear now and again.

In the room Caleb left, the dying man’s whimpers abruptly ceased. Good. It’s done.

“Did you get the information?” Tristan asks.

Caleb knew Tristan was watching. Harper’s appearance must have distracted him. Caleb will forgive him this once, particularly because the confession is on tape.

If it wasn’t, he’d be more upset. When Caleb involves himself in these interrogations, a lot of times, his mind shuts off and he succumbs to his blood rage. He needs a constant second, someone he trusts, to watch everything and make sure he doesn’t go too far.

Caleb usually doesn’t remember anything afterward.

“He gave more information on the plotted attack on one of the packs,” Caleb says.

“Harper’s pack,” Tristan says as if Caleb needs reminding.

“The enemy has been infiltrating for months. We have some names. Places to start to weed out this menace, but it will be a slow process…”

“And Harper’s pack?” Tristan asks.

It would be so much easier to let the enemy make their move, destroying that pack, and then to sweep in after and clean up the mess.

That had always been Caleb’s plan.

But… he supposes, with the level of infiltration the enemy has made, there’s no guarantee that letting that pack die would solve the overarching problem.

Plus, losing the support of a pack, even a lesser one, would weaken his kingdom. The other packs might consider rebellion if they ever discovered he left many of their own to die.

And then, there’s Harper… She shouldn’t be a consideration. She wasn’t really. An afterthought, at most… But it would devastate her to lose her pack.

She already knows he’s a villain. This wouldn’t change anything. But the thought of her in mourning… It just doesn’t sit right with him. He’ll be damned if he knows why.

“I suppose it would be most beneficial for us to step in,” Caleb says with reluctance. “Assemble my advisors so we can strategize.”

“At once, King Caleb.” Tristan doesn’t move right away. He holds out the flower. “What do you wish done about this?”

“Nothing,” Caleb snaps. He snatches the flower from Tristan and drops it to the ground. “She should know the kind of man she’s dealing with. Maybe it will help her finally fall in line.”

“Of course,” Tristan says with a small bow. When he agrees so readily, Caleb knows his beta is holding back. But he does not press this time. He doesn’t really want to know the truth of what Tristan is thinking.

Just as he doesn’t want to face his own regret. Instead, he pushes it down to the deepest parts of him to starve and die.

He’s done far too much in his reign as king. If he were to allow regret to claw at him now, he’d be overwhelmed. There was too much to do, too much that needed to be done.

It was good for others to know he was someone worth fearing.

His life is not one for kindness. Not if he wants to survive.

Looking at the peony on the floor, Caleb stomps on it, destroying its beauty and softness.

He’s a villain. That’s who he needs to be.

I don’t stop running until I’m back in my room with the door closed firmly behind me. Bethany hurries toward me, alarmed.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m not hurt,” I tell her with a shaky voice. “But I saw… He was…” I cover my face with my hands. So much blood. So much rage.

At once in my mind, I’m standing in the coliseum certain I’m about to die.

Fear wracks my body, causing my arms and legs to shake.

“Here,” Bethany says, moving quickly toward me. With her arm around my shoulders, she guides me to a chair to sit down. “Rest.”

“He was t-torturing that man…” I manage to say.

“Who?”

“I don’t know…”

Bethany moves the other chair closer to mine and sits beside me. Grimly, she looks into my face. “Did he see you?”

“Tristan did.”

“Do you think the King punished you?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. I don’t know anything anymore. Everything I thought I was learning about Caleb has burnt up into ash. There’s no softness in a man like that, covered in blood and willing to torture. “He’s a demon, through and through. I could be next…”

After everything else he’s done to me, I’m genuinely surprised I’m not in that chair. I’d been tortured before, but with a truth serum, which he had no idea would nearly kill me as it had.

He never stabbed me.

But who is to say that he wouldn’t?

“I need to get out of here,” I say, my mind reeling.

“What are you talking about? You can’t mean…” Bethany lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. “Escaping?”

I do mean that.

“I can’t stay another night under the same roof as him. I’m leaving.

Now.”

Chapter 54

“This isn’t a good idea,” Bethany insists, more urgently before. “Whatever you saw him do, you’ll be the next one tortured if you try to escape. How would you even do it? There’s no way out of here.”

I know, deep down, I’m not thinking clearly, but my fear is so rampant that I can’t just sit here, waiting for my turn on the chopping block.

“There has to be a way,” I say.

“Not unless you can fly,” Bethany says.

I consider her words. Maybe if I could fashion some kind of rope, I could scale down the wall. But surely the guards would see my attempts? They’d likely step in before I could even set up my makeshift rope. They might even shoot me as I dangle. Would the bullets kill me? Or would the fall?

“Let’s just take a minute to breathe,” Bethany says.

With her guidance, I take a deep breath, hold, and then release. Again, in, hold, out.

The slow breathing works. Eventually, I come down from my panic enough to realize how futile any escape might be, especially something so sudden. I can still plot, still plan, but I need to take my time to do so. I need to keep my eyes and ears open so I can find weaknesses and exploit them.

I need to be smart. And that means waiting.

“No more talk of escaping,” Bethany says.

“For now,” I agree.

As I continue to sit there, slowly recovering, there is a knock on the door.

Immediately, I sucked in a sharp breath, panic flashing through my thoughts once more. Is it Caleb? Has he come to torture me too?

Maybe the peonies were just to get me to lower my guard, and now the real nightmare begins.

Bethany leaves me sitting and goes to answer the door. As she pulls it open, Madeline walks inside. Ignoring Bethany, Madeline walks over to me. She stays standing a few feet off, while I continue to sit.

Some relief floods me, knowing Caleb wasn’t the one at the door. But seeing Madeline doesn’t exactly fill me with good feelings. She’d probably like to torture me too, if she could get away with it.

“We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Madeline says. “I made assumptions about you that were perhaps unfair.” Her nose scrunches up like all of this physically pains her to say. “But I think we should start over.”

Suspicion immediately rises in me. What could she mean by this? And is she genuine?

I highly, highly doubt it. A leopard doesn’t change its spots that easily. But she’s definitely up to something, and that something means welcoming me into her lair.

It’s a trap. Has to be. But the only way I might learn what she really wants is to spring the trap.

I’d still rather face her than Caleb.

“What do you suggest?” I ask.

“Let’s have tea,” Madeline says, smiling.

This is a terrible idea, I know, as I join Madeline in her rooms to share tea. At Madeline’s insistence, Bethany stayed behind, though not without giving me several worried looks.

Madeline likes her threats and her games, but despite everything she’s done and all the threats she’s made, she hasn’t actually tried to kill me. Genuinely, it seems as if she simply wants me to become more subservient to her, as the other women in the harem have done.

In the hierarchy, Madeline should be at the top. As the newest member, I should bend the knee to her.

But I never wanted to be in the harem. I don’t have time for their politics.

Also, it’s not my fault that Caleb has taken an interest in me, more than he has with the other girls. Truthfully, I wish he’d leave me alone like he does many of the harem.

Entering Madeline’s chambers, I immediately spot a familiar face. The handmaiden attending Madeline I recognize as Nina’s old handmaiden Molly. I suppose Nina acted alone in her treachery of me, but it still seems strange to see her handmaiden again, standing there smiling vaguely as if nothing happened between her old mistress and me.

Madeline’s rooms are exotic and luxurious. Purple and teal cushions are accentuated with peacock feathers on nearly every surface.

The table near her bed is larger than the table near mine. Hers holds four chairs, with an elaborate centerpiece filled with purple flowers and giant feathers.

She invites me to sit, then takes the seat beside mine.

“Handmaiden,” Madeline says. “Prepare the tea, please.”

“Yes, mistress,” Molly says and leaves the room, presumably headed. for the kitchen.

Once she’s gone, Madeline looks at me. Her expression is mostly neutral, though there is a sharpness in her gaze that tells me she is sizing me up.

“You are new,” Madeline says. “I have taken for granted that everyone around here knows the way things are, but how could you? No one has sat you down to discuss it. A failing on my part, but one I mean to correct.”

“I really don’t care to be involved in harem politics,” I tell her. “If you want to be the top woman in the harem, that is your business. I have no intention of stepping on your toes.”

Her eye twitches, ever so slightly, right at the outside corner. “This is what I mean. You are ignorant, thinking you can avoid being involved. The King has made you part of the harem. You are a part of this, whether you want to be or not.”

Truly, with my recent harsh revelations about Caleb, whatever Madeline has going on pales in comparison. I’m already tired of this entire exchange, wanting to focus on more important things like life and death.

But, if this conversation can get Madeline and the rest of the harem to back off of me, if only for a few minutes, then I’m willing to see this through.

“What do you want from me, Madeline?” I ask bluntly.

“The King favors you.”

“I have no control over that.”

“Deny him,” Madeline says flatly.

I give her a look of disbelief. “King Caleb doesn’t accept denials.”

“Then fight him. Kick, punch, scratch. Eventually, he will tire of you and return to the rest of us,” Madeline says.

“He could kill me.”

“That is the sacrifice you should be willing to make to appease the harem. It is only by our grace that you have not yet been killed,” Madeline says. “Ah, handmaiden. The tea. Serve us.”

Molly enters through the door carrying a silver tray with a teapot on top and two separate cups. After placing the tray on the table, she pours a cup for Madeline and me, and then places the cups in front of us.

I toy with the handle of my teacup, watching Madeline carefully.

She hasn’t moved an inch toward her own.

“Go on,” Madeline says, entirely too eagerly. “Drink.”

The tea has to be poisoned. It’s the only reason she would be so excited to see me drink.

Anger begins to churn inside of me. This was the woman I fought with Caleb about, trying to save her life. Now she was going to throw all that back in my face by killing me?

Unbelievable.

Grabbing the teacup, I pretend like I’m going to bring it up to my mouth. Then, at the last moment, I ‘accidentally’ twist to the side and spill the tea all over the wooden floorboards.

Immediately, the wood starts to hiss, as whatever was in the tea burns a hole right there in the ground.

Chapter 55

Madeline, Molly, and I all watch the growing hole on the floor until it finally stops hissing. As I place the now-empty teacup back on the table, I’m positively fuming. Molly looks pissed too, but I’m sure for different reasons. She likely wanted me dead. Madeline seems utterly indifferent to the whole ordeal now.

“Well,” she says. “It was a long shot. But you can’t blame a girl for trying.”

I could blame her. I absolutely could blame her! The bitch just tried to poison me! And she doesn’t even seem embarrassed at the plan having failed!

Something snaps within me. “Do you have any idea the lengths I’ve gone to keep you safe from Caleb’s wrath? At any point, I could have told him that you were the one responsible for my cut, or my missing wardrobe, or any of the other bullying tactics you’ve tried to spring upon me. He was furious enough to want to harm you. He even threatened the whole harem once!”

The more I talk, the more Madeline does seem to finally react. Yet, instead of the guilt or realization I might have hoped for, she just seems more and more angry.

“You think I need anything from you? I am the favorite consort,” she says, her eyes like icicles, her voice cold as a blizzard. “The King could have come to me with your accusations and I would have set him straight. He would have believed me, not you.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe it isn’t.

From what I’ve seen, Caleb prefers action first, and investigation later.

I don’t want to believe myself powerful enough that he would have listened to my guidance blindly, but Madeline wasn’t there when these conversations occurred. She didn’t see how mad with rage he was.

She also might be inflating her own value. The King has no loyalty to any of us. I doubt he would spare me either if the rumors say I committed some terrible act.

The King is plagued with paranoia. He sees dangers in shadows when there aren’t even shadows.

“You are out of your mind if you really believe that,” I told her.

Madeline’s lips twist into a frown. “This is why you don’t belong among us, Harlot. You dream above your station. You think yourself worthy of the King’s ear. But you need to wait your turn. I have been patient for a very long time. It’s my turn now.”

She glances at something behind me. I start to turn, but it’s too late.

Something hard comes down on the back of my head and I instantly black out.

I wake up again with a headache and a creak in my neck. I think I’m lying down… That can’t be right.

I try to move, to correct my uncomfortable posture, but my hands are bound. Are my ankles tied together as well?

Blinking open my eyes, I find myself in a very enclosed space, wooden planks above me.

Oh, gods, is this a coffin? I want to panic, but I force my breathing to slow, reminding myself of the breathing exercises Bethany taught me earlier.

No, I’m not in a coffin. I can tell because there is light coming in through the slats of the wooden planks. Looking up through the slat, I see the underside of a table. The cushions on the chairs are purple and teal.

This is Madeline’s room. Am I… under the floor?

There doesn’t seem to be anyone in the room right now. Everything is quiet.

Struggling against my bonds, I try to scream, but there’s something in my mouth, keeping me from making any more noise than a smothered muffle. The bindings at my wrists and ankles are tight.

Madeline and Molly didn’t kill me. I can’t see that as a blessing when I have no idea what they plan to do with me next. Why hide me away like this? Unless she wants to make me aware of my slow and painful demise. Does she expect me to cower?

Maybe she’ll eventually free me to see if I’ve learned my lesson.

I can only hope, because inside, I am shaking, terrified that I’m going to die forgotten in the dark.

Bethany knows the last place I went. That’s a comfort. But no one is likely to listen to her.

Caleb.

I hate that my heart cries for him now. He’s a murderous, blood-thirsty monster. He won’t want to rescue me. If anything, he’ll probably be relieved that I’m gone.

Caleb stands under the spray of the shower, as the hot water droplets beat down on his tired skin. Beneath him, the water runs red and it circles around and around the drain.

Eventually, after enough time, the water finally clears.

Caleb continues to take his time, however, careful to thoroughly wash and scrub every inch of himself.

The blood upset Harper. Scoffing, he reminds himself that it would likely upset anyone he encounters. He needs to be clean to more easily calm any who would talk to him.

None of this has anything to do with Harper.

Satisfied that he’s clean enough, he leaves his shower and allows his attendants to dry him with fluffy towels and then dress him.

As he leaves his chambers, he thinks of heading to Harper’s room for a massage. He does have a headache coming on.

But then he decides against him. He doesn’t need Harper. He’s never needed Harper. He was fine before she arrived and he’d be fine with her hiding from him.

Let her be afraid. Everyone else is.

Caleb walks down the hallway and enters his Hall instead. Tristan is there, meeting with one of the heads of the kitchen staff. He nods at Caleb as he enters. Caleb keeps walking and steps up onto the stage. There, he plops himself down on his throne.

His headache pulses, pounding violently against the front of his skull. He rubs his forehead with his hand, but it does little to quell the pain.

“Forgive me!” says a sudden female voice at the entrance to the hall.

Caleb glances but it is just a handmaiden. He ignores her as he is prone to do. These slaves do not deserve their own voices. Anything they have to say can be said through their mistresses.

“Forgive my intrusion,” the woman says as she comes closer.

Caleb signals, and one of the guards moves in, roughly grabbing the slave by the arm.

She’s persistent though, and tries to fight against him.

“King Caleb, please! It’s about my mistress! Harper!”

Caleb continues to ignore her. He doesn’t want to hear anything about Harper right now.

“She’s missing!” the woman shouts.

That claims Caleb’s attention. Tristan’s too. They both look at the girl now.

Caleb signals to the guard, who allows her to come closer now.

Looking at her, yes, Caleb does recognize her as the woman assigned as Harper’s handmaiden.

“What do you mean she’s missing?” Caleb demands. “Did she attempt to flee?”

“No, sir,” the woman says quickly. Then hesitates. “I don’t think so. She was afraid of you for a moment, my King. But then… no! Madeline came and invited her to tea. Harper went and never came back.”

A growl starts in the back of Caleb’s throat.

He’s known about Harper’s bullying for some time. He just needed a name. Now, he has one.

Madeline.

Chapter 56

“Follow,” Caleb snaps at Harper’s handmaiden as he hops down from the stage. She nods, and immediately falls into step behind him. Granted, she has to take two steps for his every one.

“King Caleb?” Tristan asks, likely wondering if he should follow as well.

Caleb doesn’t need backup to punish his own harem, but… in the case that Harper truly has escaped somehow… “Have the head of the guard meet me in Madeline’s chambers. You may then follow as well, if you so wish.”

“Yes, my King,” Tristan immediately starts to move, beating even Caleb to the door.

Outside the Hall, Caleb turns toward the wing that house his harem. When he starts to delve deeper, he pauses.

He genuinely does not know the way to Madeline’s chambers. He only vaguely even remembers which one she is. Or… wait… is he thinking of someone else?

“Slave,” Caleb says.

“Yes, my King?” the handmaiden speaks, her voice soft and mousy.

“Show me the way to Madeline’s chambers.”

“At once.” The handmaiden steps forward from behind Caleb and guides him the rest of the way. She stops just outside of a door. “In here, my King.”

Caleb grunts. The door is closed.

There is no door in the kingdom that will keep Caleb from his goals. Rearing himself back, he lifts his leg and kicks the door open. The lock busts at once, and the wood shrieks as it circles back on its hinges. It slams into the opposite wall.

Madeline and her handmaiden, who had been out on the balcony, come inside at once, faces full of surprise.

“My King!” Madeline says. She’s not the one Caleb thought she was. Gods, sometimes all the women of his harem blend together. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Caleb steps into the room and looks around. Everything appears in order, with nothing obviously out of place.

“I’ve heard that Harper has disappeared,” Caleb says. With dignitaries and guests, he has to play nice and dance around the things he more directly wishes to say. With members of his harem, he is under no such restraints.

These women are here for the sole purpose of serving him however he desires. Right now, what he desires are answers.

Madeline places her hand on her chest and gasps.

Caleb narrows his eyes, suspecting deceit. If this one has been one of the women bullying Harper, then she should be pleased with the news.

Caleb doesn’t miss how, despite the act Madeline puts on, the corner of her mouth lifts up ever so slightly in a smug, disgusting little smirk.

Does she think she can outsmart him? Does she think him some kind of fool?

For now, he pretends. Playing his full hand too soon could lead to her bottling up on what she truly knows. If Harper is in danger or if she is trying to escape, time is of the essence. There’s no time for torture to slowly pry out what he needs.

“You were the last one to see her,” Caleb says.

“We had tea,” Madeline says. “But then, she left. She seemed quite upset. Honestly, I suspect she might have tried to run away.” Madeline taps her chin. “Didn’t she try to do so once before?”

She has, and that’s the only reason Caleb doesn’t through the idea out straight away.

Harper did just see him brutally torture someone. Maybe he frightened her, upset her enough that she tried to flee from him once more.

She had to know such an action would be fruitless, but she’s stubborn enough that she might still try.

“Forgive me, my King,” Harper’s handmaiden says from the door. She’s speaking out of turn again. Caleb could punish her. Madeline clearly wants to with the way she tenses up.

“If you have something to add, do so,” Caleb snaps. He doesn’t have time for decorum.

“I do not believe Madeline’s story…” the handmaiden says.

“How dare you!” Madeline shouts. “I will not stand idly by and be questioned by a slave!”

“You are questioned by your King,” Caleb booms loudly.

Madeline immediately winces.

Looking to the handmaiden, Caleb says, “Continue.”

“My mistress and I have developed a closeness… I do not believe she would attempt to leave without telling me.”

“Lies,” Madeline says, though not as confidently as she had shouted at the handmaiden before. “Harper was frantic enough that she would likely do whatever she had to, to escape. She’s never wanted to be here. She’s not worthy of your time, my King.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Caleb growls. He’s tired of this Madeline already. If this is the woman he’s let become the lead of his harem, he will need to reconsider how he gifts his favor. This one is nothing but an annoyance to him.

He vaguely recalls the shape of her body and taking his pleasure from it, but that feels like a lifetime ago now. Whatever sex they had certainly wasn’t worth the irritation she is bringing to him now.

Madeline dips her head low. “I beg your forgiveness, my King.”

Stretching himself up to his full, intimidating height, Caleb starts forward toward Madeline.

He watches, pleased, as she cowers.

His ability to impose fear is one of the traits that gives him the most pride. It is certainly the most beneficial to him.

“If you know where she is, you will say so,” Caleb commands.

Even frightened as she is, she still shakes her head. “I do not, my King.”

Caleb looms over her a moment longer, glaring down. She squirms under his hard stare.

She’s hiding something.

“King Caleb,” says the head of the guard from the entryway. Caleb’s out of time. He has to direct his guard, and without anything to go on, he has to assume Harper made an escape attempt.

Huffing in frustration, he turns to leave.

Beneath the floorboards, I see Caleb start to walk away. When he’d stormed into the room, bellowing, searching for me, my hope soared. But now, he’s just going to walk away?

I struggle more with my bonds, yet the more I struggle, the more they seem to cut into my skin. I don’t give up, even as my skin burns raw and damp warmth drips down into my palms.

I shout against my gag, screaming for Caleb, but I’m barely making any noise.

Tears well in my eyes. He can’t leave. He can’t! If he does, Madeline and Molly will likely kill me.

Caleb! Caleb, please! See me! Find me!

I cry out in my mind, in my heart.

A foot from the door, Caleb stops. He turns. “Did you say something?” he asks.

“No,” Madeline replies.

Caleb backtracks, returning a few steps into the room. “I swear I heard something…”

“I didn’t hear anything, my King,” Madeline says.

Caleb visibly sniffs. “I smell blood…”

“What? That’s ridiculous.” Madeline subtly moves to stand directly over me. “Your mind must be playing tricks on you.”

“Do not presume to know my mind,” Caleb growls.

Madeline stills.

Caleb continues closer, sniffing as if he’s letting his nose guide him.

Here! Right here!

He’s so close, his feet stepping on the floorboards over my legs.

“My King,” Madeline starts.

“Silence,” Caleb commands, his voice dropping lower. He looks down.

Through the slats in the floorboards, I swear he looks straight at me.

Chapter 57

Rage takes hold inside of Caleb, throbbing inside of his chest, then slowly pushes outward along his limbs.

He tries to hold back his wolf, but the anger is so strong, so overwhelming, that his limbs start to elongate and his teeth sharpen. His fingers curl, sharpening into claws.

That’s Harper’s fresh blood he smells in the air. He’s sure of it now. This close to the wolf shift, he can discern things even more clearly. His eyes also sharpen and focus, able to see into the pitch black beneath the floorboards.

Which is how he knows with such certainty that Harper is under there, looking up at him with frightened, wide eyes.

He doesn’t ask Madeline for an explanation. She will only feign ignorance, or attempt to otherwise feed him some outright lie.

Caleb has no time for that.

With his teeth sharpening and growing as they are, he’s not sure that he could talk anyway.

He has no time for this.

He crashes his hands down to the floorboards. Curling his claws around the boards he slowly lifts them up, prying them apart. They crack and splinter as they shift and break. When they are finally free, he casts the fractured pieces of wood to the side.

Harper’s face is exposed now. She’s gagged.

Growling, Caleb reaches down and starts prying free more boards to expose the rest of her.

For Madeline and her handmaiden to so swiftly place Harper down here beneath the floor, there must be a secret latch. Who knew how many others they ‘disappeared’ this way?

Caleb doesn’t bother asking for an explanation. He doesn’t waste time trying to find the latch. He’s strong enough to break the floor without much effort so that’s what he does.

Harper’s torso is exposed now. Her hands are bound behind her back, which is where the scent of blood is coming from.

Reaching in, he grabs Harper by the shoulder, as gently as his large, clumsy half-shifted body will allow, and starts to pull her up from the hole.

He has her mostly free when a dagger slides into the back of his shoulder.

Hissing, he starts to loosen his grip on Harper but still manages to safely place her on the edge of the hole he made before swiveling around.

As he turns, he spots Harper’s handmaiden moving toward her to help. Good. He doesn’t need to worry about her then.

It’s the one with a knife he can concentrate on. Well. The knife remains in Caleb’s meaty shoulder. The one who had wielded it was Madeline’s handmaiden. Her eyes burn with fury and fear, though at the moment anger is winning out.

Caleb doesn’t bother asking her why she would do this. He sees the hate within her.

She doesn’t need more reason than that.

Neither does Caleb.

At her belt, she withdraws another, smaller blade. Caleb swings his massive arm, striking her before she can attack him anew.

She flies like a ragdoll and collides with the wall near the door.

The head of the guard immediately rushes inside the room, several other guards with him. They capture the slave with the dagger at once. It’s not difficult, since she’s unconscious. Then they look at Madeline.

“I h-had nothing to do with this!” Madeline screams, backing away.

Harper’s handmaiden removes the gag from her mistress’s mouth. Then starts working on the bindings.

Caleb looks to Harper for confirmation. He half-expect her to refuse to give him another name.

Instead, Harper rubs at her sore wrists, smearing the blood on her fingers, while glaring at Madeline.

“She tried to poison me,” she says.

“That was Molly!” Madeline shrieks. “It’s all Molly’s idea!”

The guards move toward her. As they grab her by the arms, Caleb growls his command, “Coliseum.”

This one deserves to suffer.

Caleb, half-shifted is a terrifying sight. He’s massive, practically hunched over to fit in this room. His clothes are torn, clinging to his body in rags. His hands are claw-like, his teeth sharp points, and his eyes blood red.

And there’s still a dagger in his back.

“Help me stand,” I say to Bethany, who does as I ask. I know she is to thank for my rescue, and I am filled with appreciation and respect for her. When there is time, later, I will convey my heartfelt gratitude and ensure she is rewarded.

Right now, I just want to help Caleb and end this nightmare.

With Bethany as a crutch, together we hobble closer to Caleb. He glances over his shoulder at me and chuffs but does not make another move as I reach up, grab the edge of the dagger, and yank it from his shoulder.

Caleb grits his teeth but bears the pain.

It feels wrong to hold it after, such a vicious thing, so I let it clatter.

I watch, amazed, as the gaping wound in Caleb’s back stitches itself closed once more.

Werewolf healing is no joke. As a powerful Alpha, Caleb must be practically unstoppable.

With the blade free, Caleb slowly shifts back into his human form. Turning to me, he holds out his arms.

I’m strong enough to stand, but maybe not enough to walk, with how much my legs ache. I have no idea how long I was under that floor.

Before I can make any reaction, Caleb scoops me up into his arms and pulls me against his chest. Without another word, he carries me out of Madeline’s room and down the hallway to my own chamber.

We pass several other harem members on the way, each likely driven out of their rooms by the noise. None of them stand in the way of the King, though they all stare.

As we walk, my eyes lock for a moment with Gwen. She glares at me so coldly I shiver.

Caleb clutches me tighter to him and quickens his pace.

At my room, he barges his way inside and then deposits me on the bed. I bounce a few times before coming to a stop. Before I even fully settle, he reaches out, snatches my arm, and brings my wrist closer to his face for inspection.

“Your wounds heal slowly,” he says, voice gruff, raw from his near-shift.

“I’m human,” I remind him. My voice is rough too, from my screaming, from my not being heard.

Only… Caleb did hear me in the end. Somehow.

No, that’s insane. It’s more likely that he heard me or scented my blood.

Still, I’d been so sure he was about to leave. When I called out to him with my entire being, he stilled.

Was that a coincidence?

And even after he found me, when I sat there relieved, the moment Molly attacked him, fear had lodged up in my throat.

Caleb is a monster. I watched him torture others. Even just now, he tossed Molly aside like she was made of paper.

I hate him. He’s a vicious, selfish brute. Murderous. Bloodthirsty.

Yet, being here with him now as he gently inspects each of my wounds, even the ones on my ankles, I am filled with something much warmer than contempt.

I push it away, refusing to acknowledge or accept it.

Yes, he almost died. Yes, that frightened me.

No, that doesn’t mean I care for him.

Yet, after his thorough inspection, when his lips find mine, I don’t push him away this time.

Not this time.

Even if, later, the weight of guilt pushes down on me.

I should have fought him off.

The only one I should want to touch me is my beloved Samuel.

Kissing Caleb… Wanting to kiss him…

It feels like a betrayal of my actual love.

Chapter 58

Caleb stays through the night. The next morning, he showers in my bathroom, then returns to my chambers naked. I think he might want to have sex again, but his dick, though still impressive in its current state, doesn’t seem to be coming to attention.

He’s simply walking around naked.

I’m not as comfortable with my naked body as he is. After all, until recently, only the stranger I’d had the one-night stand with had seen my bare body since I’d turned an adult. Yes, that person turned out to be Caleb, but that doesn’t make it easier to walk around in the nude.

So instead, as I sit up, I wrap the bedsheet around myself.

There’s something I’ve been thinking about, ever since Gwen’s knife attack outside of the party that night. I pushed back the worry, being distracted by other things. But this debacle with Madeline and Molly… It could have been prevented had I spoken up the first time.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I gather my courage and speak to Caleb. “I have a favor to ask you.”

Caleb turns to me, a smug expression on his face. “You know what I want in exchange for any favor.”

The way he says that all smirking superiority, I genuinely don’t know if he’s asking for the location of the not-real child again, or if he wants a blowjob instead.

I push onward. Perhaps if he knows the nature of my favor, he might change his mind. Or at least, settle on the blow job, which would be a much easier request to manage.

And, secretly, I might enjoy it just a tiny bit. It’s thrilling, having Caleb’s dick in my mouth, his pleasure at my control for a change. He doesn’t force this often, but it’s growing on me. I kind of wish he’d let me taste him more.

Focus, Harper, I remind myself. It’s because I was so easily distracted last time that left me vulnerable this time.

“I want a blade,” I told him.

His smile slips for a moment. He clearly wasn’t expecting that. But then the smirk returns, sharper, as his eyes harden. “You want a means to kill me?”

I shake my head. “I saw you heal from Molly’s blade. I know how fast you heal. No, this has nothing to do with killing you and everything to do with protecting me.” I look down at my fragile human hands. I went into that meeting with Madeline thinking I could talk my way out of it.

How different things might have been if I’d had a means of actually defending myself?

“Could you have used it against Madeline?” Caleb asks me. His smile is gone now, his expression unreadable.

“I think so. Things changed when I spilled the tea and there was poison inside. I didn’t want her hurt because her crimes didn’t seem death-worthy. Yet when she tried to kill me…”

“Was she the one who’s been torturing you?” Caleb asks.

I suppose there’s no harm in admitting to it now. Madeline is in the pit, soon to fight in the arena. She’s already experiencing a terrible fate.

I know, because I’ve already lived it.

“She’s been the mastermind,” I say. “Molly has her own reasons, I’m sure. She probably felt some loyalty to her previous mistress.”

“Who was her previous mistress?”

“Nina,” I remind him.

He frowns.

I huff a breath. “The woman who tried to poison me.”

“Was that her name?” He’s not being mean-spirited. He seems like he genuinely doesn’t keep track of his own harem.

“I know it’s not in your nature to care about the opinions and thoughts of slaves of your house,” I say, speaking gently. I don’t want to start an argument. I just want him to listen. “But they are people – with feelings. Hurts and fears. Anger, too. Molly wanted revenge for the mistress she thought was wrong.”

Caleb grunts. “I suppose it wouldn’t be terrible to keep a closer eye on the handmaidens. After all, it was only because of yours that I discovered you were missing.”

“I thought Bethany might be responsible,” I say. “What did she do?”

“Stormed straight into the Hall and requested my attention.”

For a slave, a move like that could come with a death sentence.

“Please don’t punish her,” I pleaded, immediately worried.

“I won’t. This time.” He considers. “Maybe not next time, either, if such a thing happens again. Do not send her to me frivolously, however, or it’s your neck that will be the next on the block.”

Exhaling in relief, I say, “I understand. We will not abuse this privilege.”

“Good. See that you don’t.” He pauses. “As for you blade… Wait here a moment.”

Naked as the day he was born, Caleb opens the door and walks into the hallway.

I try not to check out his ass as he leaves, but it’s very round and toned. It’s like my eyes are dragged to it against my will.

It’s almost a relief when he disappears around the corner and I regain my faculties.

While he’s gone, I scurry into my wardrobe to change. Worried there won’t be time to fully dress, I simply pull on one of my new robes for now.

When I re-enter the main chamber, Caleb is already back. A pair of loose black pants hang low on his hips, but he has otherwise added no clothing. No socks, no shirt.

In one of his hands, he’s holding a small dagger with a jeweled handle. There’s a matching cover in his other hand. Mindlessly, he opens and closes the cover over the dagger.

“Come here,” he says. “I will make certain you know how to use this correctly before I let you have it.”

Opening the dagger once more, he tosses aside the cover and holds the hilt out for me. I take it.

The Pitmaster taught me a few things about weapons and how to hold them, but the blade I trained on was much larger, a weapon for battle and war.

This dagger is miniscule in comparison. It feels more like it’s for some kind of subterfuge than actual combat.

“You will hide this blade on your person at all times,” Caleb says. “If anyone is fool enough to threaten you, you must strike quickly and without hesitation.”

Gripping my wrist, he drags my hand, and therefore the blade, up toward his neck.

“The neck is the most vulnerable, even for a werewolf,” Caleb says. “Even for me, this will slow me down.”

He touches the blade to the very base of his throat. I don’t move an inch other than where he leads me.

Distantly, I wonder if this is my chance. If I press the dagger forward into his throat, it could incapacitate him enough for me to escape.

But he could just as easily be lying.

Even so… having this control… believing that I could hurt him, even a little, and he might even let me, just to see what I do.

It makes me feel powerful.

And sexy.

I’m not wearing panties, so I squeeze my thighs shut hard to keep from embarrassing myself with how wet I am.

Caleb, damn him, notices, lightly scenting the air. His smile is devilish.

“Well, isn’t that a surprise? Something to explore later perhaps…”

I’m embarrassed and horny and instantly try to pull away.

Caleb tightens his grip, keeping my hand, and the blade, where it is. His smile fades. His eyes darken.

“Next time, save yourself,” he says.

Chapter 59

Soon, Caleb is called away and Bethany returns to the room to help me get changed. Surprising to me still, Caleb left the knife in my possession. I covered it with the jeweled sheath and held it, even as I followed Bethany into the closet to pick out the day’s outfit.

“I have news,” she says.

“Oh?”

“The handmaidens, we all talk,” Bethany says. “Almost all of the other harem members don’t pay us any mind. They treat us like pieces of furniture, or that we can’t see and hear. So when we get together, we share what we know.” Clearing her throat, she looks away. “Please don’t tell anyone I told you that.”

“I owe you my life, Bethany,” I say. “But even if I didn’t, your secret is safe with me.”

Bethany nods. “I figured as much. You’ve been consistently good to me.” She plucks one of the dresses from the closet and holds it up for me to see. I nod. It’s as good as any other. Caleb seems like he might give me the day off to rest and recuperate, so I might not even have cause to leave this room.

“What’s the news?” I ask, more eager to hear about that than to worry about my wardrobe.

“Madeline’s absence left a hole in the hierarchy,” Bethany says. She helps me out of my robe and into the new dress. She eyes the closed dagger in my hands but doesn’t mention it. “Gwen has instantly stepped forward to fill the void.”

I suspected she might. She took orders from Madeline but seemed to be in her own mind about everything else.

That, and her dagger skills meant she was a force to be reckoned with. Most of the other girls are probably afraid of her.

I’m even afraid of her a little, though not as much with my own means of self-defense.

“At least, that’s what the harem thinks on the surface,” Bethany says. She seems more excited now, leaning in closer. I’m sure I’m about to get the juicy part of the gossip.

“The truth is, everyone’s sort of scrambling. Gwen may be at the top of the pyramid now, but no one actually believes she is most favored by the King.”

“Who is most favored?” I ask.

Bethany gives me a look.

“You can’t mean me!” I scoff in disbelief. “He hates me. He’s only keeping me around because he thinks I know some secret. Else, I’m sure he would have killed me by now.”

“Are you so sure?” Bethany asks.

“I’m positive,” I say, unwilling to hear anymore. “Any special treatment I get is an attempt on his part to fool and bribe me into giving him what he wants.”

“But, Harper…”

“I appreciate what you mean, Bethany, and I won’t stop your fun. But I’ll never believe he actually favors me.” Shaking my head, I add, “At least, not for any selfless reason.”

Bethany looks like she wants to argue, but instead, she closes her mouth.

I don’t mean to cut her off. She’s always free to speak her mind with me. “I’m sorry,” I start to say, just as a knock sounds on the door.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Bethany says, giving me a small smile before she slips out into the main room and answers the door.

A royal messenger steps through. “Consort Harper. You are requested in the King’s personal chambers.”

My eyes go wide. Bethany’s do too. We look at each other.

It’s my understanding that no one is permitted to enter the King’s personal chambers, except perhaps Tristan and his other attendants. None of the harem, certainly. When he wants to spend time with them, he goes to them. Not the other way around.

Still, I would be foolish to turn down a summons from the King.

“I will be there at once,” I say to the messenger, who slips back into the hallway. As he goes, he leaves the door open behind him.

Bethany starts to close it, yet before she can, a pair of feminine. hands grips the door and pushes it back open from the other side.

Four different harem members step uninvited into my room.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I snap.

I’m still achy from the previous day’s events. Caleb let me sleep in, it’s well into the afternoon now, but I am sore and tired, unwilling to deal with more of their drama today. I’ve had quite enough, thank you, from now well into the foreseeable future.

“You think you are tough shit,” says one of the girls.

“You think the King is at your beck and call, just because he likes your pussy,” says another.

“You think you deserve a spot above us in the harem,” says the third.

“Reconsider,” says the fourth.

They say it in perfect synchronization, I wonder if they practiced this attempt at intimidation.

“The King is waiting for me,” I say. “Let me pass.”

“The King will keep waiting,” says the second girl, the one with a small gap between her two front teeth.

“We’re not done talking with you,” says the third, the tallest.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I admit. “I have no interest in your hierarchy.”

“Yet, it is because of you that Veronica, Nina, and now Madeline are all gone from the harem,” the first one says. Her blue eyes are piercing.

“It is because of them that they are gone,” I say. “Each attacked me. I never once made the first move.”

“You failed to fall into line,” says the first again.

“What did they expect me to do? Push King Caleb away?” I ask. “I’ve tried that. It doesn’t work. He takes whatever he damn well pleases.”

Bethany circles around the woman, coming to my side in a show of support. We’re still outnumbered, but I feel better about my odds, knowing I’m not alone.

“You need to back off and give other girls a chance,” says the second girl.

“I can’t,” I tell her. “You aren’t listening to me. It’s like you don’t know the King at all.”

The second girl blushes and I realize with a start that she actually doesn’t know the King at all. Even as a member of the harem, has he never laid with her? She’s blushing like a virgin.

“Don’t you insult us,” snaps the third. She takes a step toward me.

By now, I feel as if I entertained this enough. Maybe if they had caught me on a better day, in a better mood, I wouldn’t feel so damned tired and angry.

As it is, my wrists and ankles are sore and swollen, and every time I close my eyes, I inadvertently imagine myself trapped in the dark under those floorboards again.

All of it builds up inside of me.

I’m tired of being nice. I’m tired of letting myself be walked all over.

So I lift my new knife and click open the top, pulling the blade free.

“If you want to fuck with me, then come closer,” I say. “Else stay the hell out of my way.”

The girls seemed surprised like they didn’t expect me to fight back.

“I’m done playing nice with people who want to kill me,” I tell them, the threat honest and clear in my voice.

The four women look at each other, then one by one, starting with the fourth and going back to the first, they stand to the side to let me pass.

Chapter 60

Stepping into Caleb’s personal chambers feels like stepping into another world. Every square inch of the room is filled with decadent displays of wealth, from the gold and crystal chandeliers to the elaborate sconces filled with fresh flowers, to the jewel-encrusted walls and the shining, golden furniture.

Although, looking closer, only the bed truly feels lived-in. The rest of the room as a hotel would, is there for show but not really function. I wonder how much time Caleb truly spends in this room at all. In the past couple of weeks alone, he’s spent more time in my room than he has here.

Even now, Caleb seems out of place. He’s hunched over on an uncomfortable-looking antique sofa, his head buried under his hands.

“King Caleb?” I ask, as I cautiously move closer.

The carpet beneath my feet is stark white. I feel like I’m dirtying it just by stepping on it.

“Headache,” Caleb grumbles. This forces my feet to move faster, not really caring about the carpet anymore. Caleb is my focus now, instead.

When I come to stand before him, I start to reach my hands out toward his scalp. “Should I?”

He growls slightly, low, barely audible.

I still have my hands.

“Tell me where the child is,” he says, not looking at me.

Are we on this again? “There was never a child,” I say.

“Your pack’s fate rests solely in my hands, and you still lie to me,” he grumbles.

“You can ask me a hundred thousand times, and you will always receive the same answer. You can threaten everyone in the world that I love, and in my distress, I will still be unable to answer,” I told him. “Because there is no answer. There is no child.”

His growling grows louder.

“Now stop being stubborn and let me help you feel better.” Annoyed, I move my hands forward.

In a flash, before I can touch one strand of hair, I blink, and I am pressed up against the far wall.

I have no idea how I came to be here. Caleb must have used his alpha speed to shove me across the room. I know because he’s here too, pressing me against the wall with his body. My arms are forced upwards, my hands held together in one of his own against the wall above my head.

Yet, even forceful and firm as he is, his grip is on my palms, not my wrists, as if mindful of my persistent wounds.

“You think yourself familiar enough to touch me without permission,” he growls. His eyes flash with anger. His lips are curled in a snarl.

“I’m only trying to help you,” I insist.

“You are just like the rest,” he says, and now that I’m looking closer, I can see the distant sort of look in his eyes. He seems like he’s. somewhere far away. Angry at me? Or am I merely the closest scapegoat to whatever enemy he cannot reach at the moment?

“You seek to betray me,” he says, dropping his voice even lower. “You all wish to kill me…”

If this is a delusion or a memory, I don’t know, but I get the distinctive feeling he is no longer presently in this moment with me.

Earlier today, alone, he gave me a dagger to defend myself. He teased me about using it on him.

Now, like a light switch has been flicked, he’s lost in some kind of rage trance. Brought on by the headache? Any other reason? I’m not sure.

I can’t move to massage him, which usually relaxes him enough to calm these waking nightmares.

Yet some part of him must still be conscious because he’s not hurting me.

“Caleb,” I say. Overly familiar, perhaps, but it seems the best way to reach him at the moment. He likes it when I say his name in bed. Perhaps it will be the shock that breaks him free now. “Caleb, please.”

He growls as he breathes, yet, from one breath to the next it lessens.

Blinking once, and then twice, he seems to refocus on me. For a moment, he seems somewhat confused.

Then he seems angry again.

“Did you try to kill me?” he snaps.

“No,” I tell him at once. “Your messenger asked me to come. I thought… your headache…”

He blinks a few times more as if clearing away the last of the terror he just endured.

What it must be like to live inside of his head, constantly on guard, the paranoia creating enemies in the dark.

He glances up to where he’s holding my hands, and then down to where his body presses mine hard against the wall. This sends his gaze looking straight down my shirt.

He licks his lips.

“There’s more than one way to calm a headache,” he says and kisses me.

Pinned to the wall as I am, I am entirely left to his whims, his mercy.

He has none, licking unrelentingly into my mouth.

He slots one of his thighs between mine, pressing against the apex of my thighs, gifting me friction.

I should be horny already, but not this close after the fear.

Maybe I’m some kind of masochist, but… his rage, so long as he’s not drawing blood, is kind of sexy. The fire in his eyes looks similar from rage to lust. His voice grows deeper too, sending shivers through me.

And the sheer strength he put on display here, moving so quickly, holding me so easily, it makes my imagination run wild.

What other things could he do with that speed? That strength?

Despite myself, I start grinding against his thigh.

He drops his mouth to the column of my throat, just above my silver collar, and sucks in a possessive mark.

“Ah,” I gasp.

His free hand grips me firmly by the hip and urges me to move faster against him.

At his guidance, I start moving in earnest, grinding and rubbing, faster and faster.

He pushes against me harder. I drop my head back against the wall, exposing my neck even more. Growling, he sucks in a second mark, higher than the first.

“Caleb…” I whisper, nearly lost to the feeling.

After a time, he abandons trying to guide me by the hip and instead lifts his hand to roughly cup my breast. I hate the bra I’m wearing that denies me that chance to press my budding nipple into his calloused palm.

Still, he gropes and massages, bringing me pleasure just from his insistence.

“Do you have any idea the pleasures I would gift you if you were more honest with me,” he whispers in my ear, right before he bites gently at my earlobe.

“I’m not -“

“Don’t lie to me again, or I’ll stop this right now.”

He doesn’t give me the chance, closing his mouth over mine again. He swallows down whatever words I might have said.

I’m close already. His bossing me around really does get me ramped up, as much as I hate to admit it.

I’m so hot that if he told me to bend over the desk, I would. I might hate myself afterwards, but any promise of pleasure now would lead me to commit unspeakable acts.

Yet, before I can even offer to please him, he releases me and steps away.

“I have a meeting to attend to,” he says. “You will join me.”

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