The Lycan King’s Defiant Surrogate by Riley Above Story (Chapters 141 to 150)

Chapter 141

I want to continue my research into the woman in the picture with Evan, but Hector likely has the library watched now. After what happened last time, I’m not in any kind of mood to see him again, or be tossed around in another confrontation.

Without those old newspaper resources, investigating is sure to be much more difficult this time, but I’m unwilling to give up.

Staring at the photo I’d printed of the unknown woman, I searched every square inch for answers. I stare at the photo for so long that I feel like my eyes are going cross. Surely, I’ve memorized every inch by now.

Then, I see it. A tiny little mark, barely noticeable, at the base of the woman’s throat.

“Bethany,” I say, lifting her attention away from the needlepoint she’s taken up while sitting beside me, idle, in my room. She’s already cleaned every inch of it. Typically, by now, I’d be out of the room, allowing her the opportunity to see to other tasks.

As Caleb hasn’t called for me as much lately, I’m stuck here. Bethany, being my handmaiden, is duty-assigned to stay by my side while I’m here.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Do you know where I can get a magnifying glass?”

Ten minutes later, Bethany returns to the room holding just what I need. Approaching me at the table, she passes it over. Then she returns to her own chair and her needlepoint.

Lifting the magnifying glass, I more carefully inspect the image. I look in the other spots first, ignoring the point of interest, just in case I missed anything. When I don’t find anything, I move the magnifying glass closer to the unknown woman’s throat.

Yes. There. I can see it now.

She’s married with the brand of an omega. It’s distinctive in size and shape. Though it could be in any place on the omega’s body, this one is right there near her collarbone at the base of her throat.

Even seeing it clearly, I still can’t believe my eyes.

“Look at this,” I say, passing the photo and the magnifying glass to Bethany. “There on her neck. Tell me I’m not seeing things.”

Bethany lowers the needlepoint to inspect where I’ve told her. Right away, she says, “That’s the mark of an omega.”

Omegas are the lowest members of the pack. Though still ranked as servants and slaves, they cannot hold any position of importance, even to marry someone of rank. They often find their purposes in being nannies or caretakers and helping other more prominent members of the pack.

The question then is, what in the world was an omega doing, looking like a lover to Prince Evan? How could someone with such a lowly status be tied up in some kind of royal plot?

With a worried expression, Bethany hands back the photo and the magnifying glass.

“Maybe you should stop looking into this,” Bethany says. “There are old secrets here that might be better off staying buried.”

“It’s dangerous, I know,” I say. “But for Caleb, I have to find the truth.”

“You don’t think he killed his brother?”

“I do.” The evidence is clear that Caleb committed the act. “But that doesn’t mean it was unprompted.”

“You think someone put him up to it?”

I do, but I’m not willing to admit that right now. Hector’s investment in this felt like less than a father protecting his son, and more like he was defending himself.

I could be wrong, I admit that, but until I know for sure, I can’t let this go.

Knowing the woman is an omega helps a massive amount. There aren’t many omegas and all of their birthdays and locations are documented and stored in this very building. I just needed access to the records.

“Bethany…”

She has already set aside her needlepoint once more. “Come on. I’ll go with you to the record room and keep watch while you snoop.”

“Thank you,” I tell her in appreciation and gratitude. I was blessed the day Bethany was chosen to be my handmaiden. She has quickly become the best friend I’ve ever had.

Bethany leads me to the record room. The omega records are kept in thick binders lined up on a bookcase. As they are organized by the pack and then year, I search first for the pack of the capital, knowing she would have had to be nearby to form a relationship with the prince.

From there, I searched for the year the photo was taken.

Oddly, I find that the binder for the year I need has been removed. I go back to the year before and remove the binder. Opening it, I saw that some pages had been torn out in haste, bits of paper still attached to the binder clips.

The other omegas in the binder do not match the description. Some are too old, others are only children.

I put that binder back and then take down the one from the year before. It’s the same, with pages missing and none of the others matching the woman.

It seems as if the woman I’m searching for has been entirely removed from the public record as if someone has scrubbed her whole existence.

I have little to no hope of finding her, then. Without even knowing her name, she is lost to me.

But I won’t give up. I might not be an omega, but I am still a lowly consort. As someone who has also been caught up in the royal drama, I feel a sort of comradery with this woman.

I won’t rest until I find out who she is and make sure she’s okay. If she’s been killed in all of this, I will make sure her memory is honored, not lost to time.

“Harper,” Tristan says from the entrance of the records room.

Bethany, standing behind him, gives me a worried look from behind his shoulder. She was to be lookout, but I could understand how Tristan could sneak by her guard. He is as stealthy as he comes when he wants to be.

He struts toward me, his gaze drifting down to the binder in my hand. I snap it closed.

I expect a scolding from him, likely a lecture and a threat to tell Caleb what I’ve been up to. Likely, from seeing what I’m looking at, a man as keen as him would be able to piece together what I’m searching for.

“You’ve been busy,” he says.

“Idle hands make for idle minds,” I tell him. “I need to keep busy.”

He hums. His expression doesn’t change but there’s something about him, maybe the intensity of his gaze, that tells me he sees straight through me.

“Her name is Summer Robins,” he says. “I warn you, never say that name aloud. Do not even repeat it back to me.”

“Thank you -“

“Do not thank me, either,” Tristan says. “Just remember it, and do with it as you will. If you are caught in your carelessness, I will not save you.”

Swallowing thickly, I reply, “I understand. But if I could ask you -“

“I will not explain more,” Tristan says firmly. “Now, wrap up what you are doing here. Caleb needs you.”

Chapter 142

Tristan leads me to the door of Caleb’s chambers, where even the guards seem nervous. From within, I hear the sounds of porcelain being shattered, of tables and chairs being thrown, and Caleb’s loud voice, booming from within.

“I need answers, doctor! Solutions! Not more of your useless doctor- speak!”

The guards, seeing me, step aside at once to let me enter. Tristan gestures for me to do so. With his feet firmly planted, he’s making it clear he has no intention of joining me inside.

I take a moment to gather myself with a deep inhale and exhale. Then, not sure what to expect, I step inside the chambers.

Immediately, I am greeted with destruction and chaos.

Much of Caleb’s furniture has been upturned. One of his chairs has gone through the window and sits on the balcony outside. Hanging pictures have fallen off the walls, their glass shattered and scattered across the floor.

Even with shoes, I step carefully to avoid the larger pieces.

Caleb is near the bed, pacing from it to the wall and back again. A nervous-looking doctor stands nearby.

“I’m no longer asking, I’m commanding,” Caleb shouts. “You will give me something for this paranoia!”

The doctor worried his hands together while shaking his head. “I took a vow, my King, to do no harm, and I must uphold it. As I said before, your strong Alpha blood will counteract the safe level of drugs I could prescribe to you. The sheer amount of drugs you would need to sedate those feelings would hurt you if not outright kill you.”

“That was a command, doctor!”

“Caleb,” I say sharply, approaching faster now. I’m well aware of how foolhardy the action is. One should never speak such to a King, especially in front of someone else. Whatever liberties Caleb allows me in private, do not transcend into public. He has his ruthless image to maintain.

However, given the circumstances, if I don’t do something, Caleb is likely to rip the doctor’s head off. This is a good doctor, who will stand by his vow rather than allow his king to harm himself. I will protect him if I can, for Caleb’s sake, his own, and any patients that might be soon needing a good doctor.

Caleb’s wild red-flashing eyes shift to me. “You overstep your place, consort.” His voice stays angry, but the volume goes down, a sign that my presence is working once again.

Sensing the change in the room, the doctor finds the courage to continue, “You are suffering from mate-sickness, my King. The only way to cure it, as strong as it is within you, is to find and claim your mate.”

Caleb sharply switches his attention – and his ire – back to the doctor. “I am not some weak-willed lovesick fool, doctor, and the implication otherwise is a great insult.” The volume of his voice remains level, thankfully, even though the tone dips down into dangerous territory.

The doctor visibly swallows.

“King Caleb,” I say, to redirect his attention. “I need to speak with you on an urgent matter.”

That’s a blatant lie, but it’s the best excuse I could think of at the moment to turn Caleb’s attention onto me and away from the doctor.

“It’s private,” I add, glancing sideways at the doctor. If I could get the doctor excused from this room, that would save him- at least, for now. Surely this argument would happen again and again, likely with increasing ferocity, until Caleb could find his cure.

A cure that involves finding his mate. My stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought. I already feel heavy in the knowledge that I will have to share Caleb with Annabelle, the woman to be his bride. Now, I must share him with a third – a mate?

He will surely cast me aside for his fated mate. As his perfect match, a fated mate would satisfy him in every way, more than I could ever hope to. He’d have more use for me.

Maybe then, he would release me. Heartbroken, the thought does not fill me with as much satisfaction as I thought it would.

Caleb’s eyes narrow, looking at me. “Fine.” To the doctor, he barks, “Get out.”

The doctor doesn’t waste any time. In a rush, he turns and darts from the room, the glass crunching under his feet.

Caleb and I stare at each other in silence, until the doctor exits and the door shuts behind him.

Then, Caleb steps toward me. Pulling himself up to his full, intimidating height, he glowers down at me. “What is this urgent matter?”

I try to think quickly, but Caleb notices my hesitation.

In a flash, he closes the remaining distance between us and grabs me roughly by the shoulders.

“You lied,” he growls. “You, the one person I thought I could trust. You wish to betray me too, do you? Are you working with them? Are you in on this plot against me?”

“N-no!” I say quickly, but some fear throttles the word, making it uneven. It doesn’t sound true, even to my own ears. I can only imagine how deceitful I sound to Caleb.

Since we’ve grown so close, I don’t usually feel fear around Caleb anymore. But when he’s like this, his behavior is impossible to predict, and that terror returns. His paranoia could drive him to harm me, regardless of the affection I know he otherwise feels for me.

The Caleb I know has taken a backseat at present. This Caleb is overwhelmed by his paranoia, a result of his mate-sickness.

“Caleb, please.”

“You’ve betrayed me my consort,” Caleb growls. “After everything I’ve done for you. After all, I give to you…

He tosses me like a ragdoll. I expect to be thrown to the floor like his father had done, but instead, I find myself bouncing, unharmed, atop his bed.

In the jostle, however, the photo of Summer Robins falls out of my pocket. I reach for it, hoping to snatch it away before Caleb can see it.

But, with the sudden quiet in the room, I know I’m already too late.

Glancing up, I see Caleb, his red eyes affixed to the printed-out photo resting at the edge of the bed.

“What is this?” he asks, his voice so quiet that if there had been any other noise in the room, I wouldn’t have heard him. “Where did you find this? Why did you have this?”

With each word, his fury intensifies. His hands curl, his fingers elongating and turning into claws. His canines sharpen, his teeth growing bigger in his mouth.

He’s not just at the edge of shifting, he is slowly, actively becoming more werewolf than man.

“Caleb…” I say, hoping to calm him and bring back some of his humanity before he totally loses himself.

He grows a full foot in height, with fur beginning to prickle out from his skin.

“Caleb, please,” I beg, but he seems beyond me now.

He’s trapped in his mind, in his wolf, and all he knows is anger.

Enraged, he leaps toward the bed. I roll back out of fright, but he doesn’t attack me. Instead, he grabs the photo of Summer and shreds it to pieces with his claws.

Chapter 143

Never before have I seen Caleb act this animalistic without reason. It’s as if he’s totally lost himself in the frenzy of the wolf. Even half-shifted, he seems out of his mind, with neither man nor wolf fully in charge. Only the paranoia drives him now, like a parasite that’s fully taken over his body…

The pieces of the photo I’d printed of Summer Robins twist and fall in the windless room. Even when they finally rest on the floor, Caleb lifts his foot and smashes them further, as if hoping to grind them to dust – as if, needing to somehow, for reasons I don’t fully understand.

When he’s like this, I fully fear him and the carnage he could wreak. I know he’s not the man I’ve come to admire, even love. This is someone else wearing his skin.

Yet, even with that fear, I can’t let this continue. If I don’t find a way to stop this transition, I might fully lose Caleb forever. That is unacceptable. I won’t allow it.

Pushing myself forward, I reach the edge of the bed and then step off of it. Caleb does not move backward; he gives me no room at all. This means, my chest is very near his waist, as he towers over me even higher than he normally would. He glares down at me with his inhuman features, a snarl crossing his wolf-like mouth.

“Caleb,” I say again, keeping my voice as calm as I am able. Rallying together every shred of courage from within me, I inch even closer to him. Slowly, telegraphic my movements as much as I can, I lift my hands and place them onto where his chest should be, under the fur now covering him.

Just as slowly, he curls toward me and inhales, scenting first my hair, then my shoulder, then, finally, my neck.

For several long moments, we stay just like that, with Caleb breathing deeply at the junction of my neck and shoulder. I am as still as a statue, allowing him to take in my scent. I push down on my fear, allowing only calm and peace to lift to the surface.

He must scent those emotions on me. With a tiny sigh, his body begins to shrink down to his normal height. The fur retracts from his skin, and his facial features take on their typical human shapes.

After a few uneasy moments, Caleb fully returns to his human self.

Immediately, as soon as he has hands and not claws, he wraps his arms around me and presses me more fully against him. His nose stays at my neck, breathing deeply, even in human form.

“Harper,” he says, and I finally exhale with relief. For him to call me that means that he’s regaining his faculties, at least in part. “I’m losing my mind.”

“We’ll find a way to stop it,” I say, though I have no real idea of how to begin. To truly save him, we need to find his fated mate. My presence is only a temporary solution.

“The doctor has denied my drugs.”

“He can’t harm his patients,” I say. “He cannot break his vow, not even for you.”

Caleb hums. He seems more receptive to that notion now than he did when the doctor was in the room…

“Only when I’m with you, do I feel some clarity. Not even my fiancé gives me peace like you do,” he says. Softer, gentler, he adds, “You understand why I cannot acquiesce to your request, even if my affection and gratitude toward you make me want to give you what you want.”

I suppose I could understand. With Caleb’s sanity teetering on the edge of a knife, I am the only thing keeping him from succumbing fully to his paranoid mindset.

Yet with that acknowledgement come questions.

“Why marry Annabelle at all, if she cannot help with the mate- sickness? Why not go out and search for your actual fated mate?” I ask.

While it’s true that finding a fated mate requires a great deal of challenge – some wolves go their entire lives searching – no one has more resources than the Alpha King. If he cannot find his mate, even with those resources, what hope remains for anyone else?

“I cannot leave the throne unattended,” he says.

“Send Tristan, then. It might take longer, but surely the end result will be worth the wait.”

“I can’t,” he says again, softer. “A Luna is needed on the throne. I have already delayed this course for too long. With each passing day, my subjects respect me less and less, and that’s not simply because of my mate-sickness. Without a Luna, this kingdom is weaker.”

I sense the influence of Caleb’s parents and his advisors in those words. In the past, he’d brush them off. But the mate-sickness has left him vulnerable in a way he’s likely never experienced before. To protect his throne and his kingdom, he needs to cover that weakness. By marrying Annabelle, he would at least be able to hide it for a time.

That’s a temporary solution, though. Sooner or later, Caleb’s sickness would take him over, and unless Caleb’s parents and advisors were ready to leave the kingdom in Annabelle’s hands, they’d have to face the hard truth that a new Alpha is needed.

My own doubts creep into my mind. Maybe this is just the play Caleb’s parents are attempting to make. Perhaps they see Annabelle as a puppet they can use to take over once again while Caleb is lost in his mind.

I decide not to voice these concerns, not wanting to put even more cause for paranoia on top of Caleb.

Fortunately, the need to say anything more is proved moot, when Tristan enters the room. Caleb and I step apart from each other, no longer locked in an intimate embrace. However, Caleb still keeps me near, our arms pressed together.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Tristan says, “But a scout has returned from the north. The advisors believe he has vital new intelligence that you need to hear, King Caleb.”

The troubles of the kingdom will not wait for Caleb to recover, it seems. Why do I feel, that no matter if peacetime or wartime, Caleb will never find time to rest.

Of course, he wouldn’t have time to leave his throne in search of his mate, with how much he is needed here. Neither could Tristan go on the hunt, as he is just as vital as Caleb’s right hand.

Even so, it seems terribly unfair for Caleb to suffer like he has. Does no one have a viable long-term solution that includes both the welfare of the kingdom as well as the best health of the king?

I suppose not. If anyone had any ideas, they would have likely said them already.

Caleb nods, then starts forward, heading toward the door.

Behind him, Tristan glances at me. “You should be there.”

“Me?” I ask, to be sure. There’s no one else in the room, but I can’t imagine why I would be vital to this meeting – unless Tristan thinks the news might set off Caleb’s paranoia again, and he will need me to calm down.

That’s not what Tristan says though. Instead, “You should hear what the scout has to say.”

Chapter 144

Chapter 145

Chapter 146

Chapter 147

Chapter 148

Chapter 149

Chapter 150

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