Chapter 41

Caleb is absolutely furious. He has a mind to wake this wench up just so she can feel the pleasure he was set to bestow upon her. Does she realize how she insults his gifts?

Yet as he reaches forward to shake her, something in her face stills his hand. He is used to seeing her face twisted in pain or fear or lifted in defiance. Never has he seen her look… peaceful.

It shocks him. What does she have to feel peaceful about, when his dick is still rock-hard? He was to give her pleasure, and now she leaves him wanting? He is the King. He wants for nothing!

Yet, even in his fury and rage, he cannot bring himself to startle her into wakefulness.

It’s probably because she almost died. Yes. That is why he is feeling this way. Her body is weak from the poison, and he already laid claim to her once today.

He’d driven her to the edge. Her body simply gave out.

How troublesome. He would have to speak to her handmaiden and make certain she is being fed enough. Being given enough water and care.

She must feel better if he is to torture her the way that he wants to, with his dick and his hands and his mouth. When she is hooked on the feel of him, he will deny her.

He will ask, where is our child? And she will answer.

Finally.

For now, he will leave her to rest. Her peaceful slumber is one of ignorance. The world is cruel all around her while she sleeps. But for now, he will allow it.

He will not always be this generous.

In fact, he is usually not.

He leaves the room before he can reflect on why that might be.

I’m confused when I wake up in the still of my bedroom, alone, with my clothes still on. My last thought was of Caleb turning me onto my back and pressing me down into the mattress.

Then… nothing…

Did I fall asleep?

Checking myself over, I don’t appear to be harmed. No new bruises or marks. I don’t feel as though I’ve been taken in my sleep.

But how can that be?

No way the King just let me lie here undisturbed. Did he even get off?

I sit there on the bed, partially amazed but mostly confused as Bethany comes into the room. She’s carrying a silver tray with what appears to be breakfast on it.

When she sees me awake, she immediately brightens. “Ah, good morning, mistress. King Caleb ordered me not to wake you. I was worried this breakfast might go to waste as your dinner had.”

“King Caleb told you not to wake me?”

“Yes,” Bethany replies. She brings the tray closer, then lowers it onto the edge of the bed. On it are a collection of fruits, as well as some yogurt, and a bit of oatmeal.

“Did he tell you why?” I ask.

“No, I’m afraid not. Would you like some coffee, mistress?”

“Please,” I tell her. As she pours me a mug, I ask, “Did you already eat, Bethany?”

“Yes, mistress. I eat in the early morning hours before I attend to my duties.”

“Well… if you wouldn’t mind. I’d much rather we eat our breakfast together. If that’s alright.”

She nearly drops the mug as she lowers it down onto the small table beside my bed. The table is big enough for two people. It would be the perfect breakfast nook for two friends.

“If that’s what you wish, mistress…”

“It is,” I tell her. “And Bethany. I must insist you call me Harper.”

For the rest of the day, Bethany tends to me. As tonight is the night I am to be presented as a member of Caleb’s harem, I need to look the part. I’m given a vigorous bath, then rubbed down with oils and spritzed perfumes. My skin is glowing, and my hair is conditioned so finely that it feels silky smooth.

Then, abruptly, Bethany insists that I take a nap. “King’s orders,” she says. “He wants you well rested for tonight.”

After the debacle last night, I suppose I can understand why.

“Fine,” I grumble.

Blessedly, I do drift off to sleep rather quickly, and when I wake up again, I feel rested and refreshed.

Perhaps the nap wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

While the beauticians and makeup artists enter my rooms to tend to me, we leave the door to my chambers open to the hallway. Since assistants are fluttering around so quickly, it seems an absolute nuisance to keep that door closed, just to hear it open and shut again and again.

It’s more convenient for the workers, as well, which is mainly why I insist on it, and why I continue to allow it even as the other harem members begin gathering once more in the hallway outside of my room.

I feel like a circus sideshow. Everyone come and look your fill.

The three girls from yesterday are there, still bickering amongst each other, as well as a few others. But it’s the one quiet one who catches my attention. She’s taller than the rest, a red-headed vixen with sharp cat eyeliner and cold blue eyes.

She’s gorgeous and elegant in how she carries herself. With her hair in a tight updo and her gown draping and long, she looks like a film actress out of the silent movie era.

The other girls seem to give her reverence. I wonder if she has become the new favorite in Veronica’s absence.

My own hair, they decide to leave down, in long loose curls, after threading strings of diamonds in and around a few strands. It’s not overly obvious, but does make my hair seem to sparkle under the light.

The blue gown fits like a dream, with a deep V-neck in the front and a high slit up the thigh. The sleeves are cut at the wrist. A long lacy train comes from the back of the dress, all the way down to the floor.

When I look in the mirror, I feel like a princess. I hold my arms out, presenting myself to Bethany.

“You look wonderful,” she says.

“Thank you,” I tell her, then turn toward the door.

The women there look at me with looks of varying levels of disgust and envy.

Only the redhead keeps her expression perfectly calm.

“Let’s go, Bethany,” I say. She is to walk with me to the entryway where I am to be presented. Quickly she falls into step beside me.

At the entrance to my doorway, I speak loudly, “Please stand aside.”

No one moves.

The redhead stares at me. They all do.

Then the redhead smirks. “Don’t we have a party to get to? We better be on our way.”

At once, the other women start to file out, diverting to the redhead’s judgment.

When all of the girls have gone on but the redhead and me, one of the girls stops and looks back.

“Are you coming, Madeline?”

Madeline, the redhead, gestures for me to go first…

This must be some kind of weird power trip, but I really don’t want to waste time trying to figure it out so I start ahead.

Three steps into the hallway, I’m jolted backward and hear a loud tear. Turning, I see Madeline’s foot on my train, which has now ripped cleanly from my dress.

“How clumsy of you,” Madeline says, her eyes sharp. “You caught your dress on a nail. You should really be more careful.”

With that, Madeline steps around me, meets up with the other woman, and continues down the hallway, not once looking back.

“Your train…” Bethany says. She picks up the pieces. “It’s ruined.”

Chapter 42

Bethany and I inspect the remnants of our train.

“Is there anything we can do?” I ask. I’ve been around a sewing machine, but it’s hardly my area of expertise. There isn’t exactly time for it anyway. I’m supposed to be in the entryway in ten minutes.

Bethany stares hard at the lace, then at my dress. “Turn around,” she says. “Uh, please. Mistress.”

“Harper,” I remind her and turn as she directs. She gently brushes my hair off to one side. Reaching up, I assist, holding my hair in a loose bunch to the side.

“Hold this please, Harper,” she says, passing me the lace. “Just for a moment.”

Peeking over my shoulder, I watch as she removes a small sewing kit from her pocket. From the kit, she pulls a needle and thread.

“I’d like to try something,” she says. “It won’t look exactly how it was, but it should hide the tear the train made in the rest of the dress.”

“Go ahead,” I say when I realize she’s waiting for my permission. She holds her hand out for the lacy fabric, which I return. Then, without warning, she rips it more, straight down the middle. “Bethany!”

“Trust me!” she says. At once, she sets to work. With a few loose stitches, she attaches one end of the fabric to the back of my dress, then trails it around to the base of my sleeve, where she attaches the other end to the cuff. She does the same on the other end.

I can’t quite tell what it looks like without a mirror but from what I can tell, she’s turned my long train into much shorter… wings.

If only they were real wings that I could use to fly away.

Yet even as they are, they’re beautiful.

“Do you like it?” Bethany asks. She nervously worries her bottom lip.

“Like it? I love it. Bethany, you are a fashion genius. We will talk about this more when I get back!”

I’m already late. There’s no time to talk now. She seems to understand.

“Hurry,” she tells me, even as a big smile breaks out on her face. How rare are compliments for this girl? “Go on. Impress them all, Harper.”

“I intend to!” I say. “And thanks to you, I think I can!”

With that, I take off in a run, desperate to catch up with the rest of the harem.

I find them in a single file line at the entrance to the hall, slowly being introduced one by one. As Madeline is at the end of the line, I can assume that the order is important somehow, to show the hierarchy.

Madeline turns to see me just as she’s about to step through the entryway.

In a flash, rage twists her features. She glares at me in open hate.

“Madeline, of the King’s Harem,” announces the crier from within the Hall.

Madeline has no choice but to move forward, or she risks embarrassing the King. Everyone in the harem knows, that to embarrass the king means death.

Madeline removes all trace of emotion from her face as she faces the Hall and walks past the door.

One of the slaves waiting there turns to me. “Are you Harper? The new woman?”

“Yes,” I say.

The slave signals to the crier.

“Prepare yourself,” the slave says as he gestures for me to step forward. “Everyone in this room is going to try to eat you alive.”

I don’t know what he means by that, but it sounds like a threat.

“Introducing, the newest addition to the King’s Harem. Harper.”

Having no other choice, I lift my head, faking bravery and indifference, and step into the Hall.

I’ve been inside the Hall many, many times, observing Caleb or giving him massages. Yet even so, it’s near unrecognizable now. Fabrics billow down from the ceiling, creating the illusion of winds. Tables and chairs are aligned around the outside wall. Each table is decorated with an abundance of gold and sparkling gemstones.

Yet even the overabundance of the décor is nothing compared to the overwhelming wealth on display of the evening’s guests. Elaborate diamond-crusted gowns, shoes, and canes. Golden hair pins and tie clips. Suits shining and well-tailored. Dresses that could have come in off a runway, unlike any I have ever seen before.

The way the guests carry themselves, too, speaks of decadence and opulence.

Even the King is dressed in a fine black tunic and slacks, with diamonds stitched around the collar and cuffs. Silver threads weave through the expensive-looking shining fabrics giving it a faux metallic appearance.

Compared to the opulence around him, the King, though also clearly dressed in finery, seems the most fashionable. The rest are downright gaudy in comparison.

Sitting up on his throne, he stares at me but makes no move to speak to me.

I haven’t been told, but I assume I am to make my way now to him. As I do, I’m immediately stopped by another guest.

That guest a man with a green tie and emerald tie clip – grasps my hand rather forcefully. I had not offered it, but that doesn’t seem to be a necessity around here, I’m learning quickly.

Foolish, I think to myself without even meaning to. I am the property of the King.

The man doesn’t seem to care about that. He dips his head low and presses a kiss to the back of my hand.

When he stands again, I gasp. The King is behind him. I didn’t even see him move.

“Did someone tell you that you couldn’t touch that which doesn’t belong to you?” Caleb asks, his voice low and deadly.

The man in the green tie pales immediately drops my hand, and turns toward the King.

“King Caleb, I -“

“Save your excuses,” Caleb snaps. “You are a younger Alpha, are you not? In line to take over for your pack?”

The man bows. “Yes, sir.”

“Touch her again, and see what happens,” Caleb says. It’s no idle threat, and with the way everyone moves swiftly away from that man in the green tie, the entire room knows it.

“My apologies, my King.” The man bows again.

Caleb reaches out in a flash and snatches my hand that the man had kissed. With a low growl, he tugs me to follow him, dragging me all the way back toward his throne.

Others look at me. They whisper. A few, I see ogling my body in this dress.

Despite the King’s threats, they are bold.

Though perhaps they have comfort from the fact that they are not touching. The King never said they couldn’t look.

Caleb hops up onto the stage presenting his throne, then pulls me up after him. His eyes are wild as he looks around the room, snarling and glaring at all those who look at me on the way here.

Then he turns to look at me.

And his gaze drops to my mouth.

That’s the only warning I receive before his hands slip around my waist and he yanks me against his hard body. His mouth crashes down over mine, licking and claiming in a deep, messy kiss.

He wants them to see this.

He wants them to know I’m his.

All I can do is hold on.

Chapter 43

When the kiss ends, I feel a little lightheaded, caught up in the whirlwind of King Caleb and his masterful tongue. As I try to catch my breath, Caleb glowers at all the onlookers, as if making sure the message was received.

I am King Caleb’s. No one else is allowed to touch.

I know better than to argue with a king in front of a crowded room, so I keep my mouth shut about it. Though, in my mind, I will always belong to myself.

Slowly, the band begins playing music again, and the guests start talking amongst themselves, going on as if nothing occurred.

Near the door, I watch as a pair of guards escort the man with the green tie out of the room.

Glancing around, I notice that the only people who haven’t continued on are several of the other harem members. Instead, they are glaring at me with hate and envy in their eyes.

Don’t they understand that I had nothing to do with what just occurred? Though perhaps it’s not my actions that upset them, but those of the King. After all, his arm lingers around my waist, not theirs.

Jealousy could drive someone to hate.

Looking back to Caleb, I speak softly, “Perhaps I should return to mingling?” I intonate it like a question, so as not to raise offense by having my own mind.

“No,” Caleb says gruffly. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me more firmly against his side. “Everyone in this room wants to steal you away. I will not give them, nor you, the opportunity to plot against me.”

“I have no intention of -“

“I don’t believe you,” he says, cutting me off.

How can he possibly function at all, being this paranoid? Still, I suppose his distrust of everyone has kept him alive this long. I can’t fault him for that, even if it does seem like it makes his day-to-day life utterly unbearable.

“You flirted with him,” Caleb grumbles at me. “If I see you do so again, it will not be a kiss I give you next.”

Images of torture flash through my mind, all needles and blades, blood and misery. The blood drains from my face.

Caleb notices. “Are you afraid? For yourself or for your collaborator? He will go under my knife. But you? You, I will fuck right here on this throne, in front of everyone. I will make you scream my name and they will see and know without question that you are mine.”

My face goes from pale to blushing so fast, that I feel a bit dizzy.

I’d rather not have sex in front of a room full of people, thank you very much!

“Now,” Caleb says smugly, likely recognizing the change in me. “Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes,” I somehow manage to say, despite my heart being in my throat and pounding so loudly it echoes in my ears.

“No flirting with other men.”

“I understand,” I say.

“Good.” Slowly Caleb lifts one of his hands, the other still on my waist, and lightly traces the metal collar around my throat while humming in satisfaction.

After a few more moments, Caleb lifts me down from the stage, then hops down himself, and we start to walk around. King Caleb and his guests talk as if I’m not even present. If they glance at me, it is only for a fleeting moment or two. Meanwhile, Caleb’s hand stays firmly on my waist.

I’m a decorative ornament more than a person. I guess this is my place now. It’s certainly better than being trapped down in the pit under the arena waiting to die. However, there remains a certain level of danger here.

I must always be careful to not embarrass the king, or I might wish I was facing down those lions again.

A shiver of fear runs down my spine at the memories, and it’s suddenly becoming much harder than before to maintain my smile.

I need a moment to myself, to recollect myself in time to face this once again. But how can I slip away unnoticed?

Only one excuse comes to mind, that might satisfy Caleb.

As he leaves one conversation, moving to head into another, I lightly tap his shoulder and whisper, “I have to use the bathroom.”

He gives me a long, searching look, then starts to remove his hand from my waist. He does so slowly, trailing his fingers lightly over my backside as he lets his hand drop.

“Return quickly,” Caleb growls under his breath. “Lest I think you plotting something.”

“Of course,” I reply. Then, free of his hand, I spin and hurry away.

I’ve been to the Hall many times and therefore know exactly where the bathrooms are in the hallways outside of it. Exiting the bathroom, I turn the corner down the hallway to find the bathrooms and nearly run straight into Madeline and two of her entourage, lesser members of the harem.

They all turn to look at me.

“Well, well, look what has walked right into our lap,” Madeline says coolly. “Here we were, trying to devise a way to get you alone, and all we really had to do was wait.”

I start to take a step backward, but I bump into a third entourage member behind me. This one, I quickly notice, is carrying a knife.

“I’ll scream,” I say. We might not be seen here by the bulk of the party, but if I scream loud enough someone will likely hear and investigate.

“You won’t,” Madeline says. “Unless you want Gwen to cut your throat.” Madeline huffs a quick laugh. “It wouldn’t be the first time, would it, Gwen?”

“Nor the second,” says the girl with the knife – Gwen, presumably.

I swallow down my fear. A murderous woman with a knife is still not as frightening as a pack of lions.

“What do you want?” I ask Madeline, who is clearly the leader of this group.

“You are willing to be reasonable. Good. Disappointing for Gwen, but less clean up.” Madeline tilts her head. “As the newest of the harem, you should be least important. Sure you are a shiny thing that the King is obsessed with for the moment, but he will soon cast you aside as he has all the rest. You need to learn your place.”

“You aren’t special,” Gwen says from behind me.

I turn, placing my back against the wall to keep all of my threats in view in front of me.

“You aren’t even that pretty,” says one of the other women.

“I am the head of the harem, now that Veronica is gone,” Madeline says. “You will listen to my commands, as well as those of all who came before you. That is the way things are done here.”

She wants me to blindly obey every single member of the harem? Like hell. I may be a slave here, but only to the King and those he tells me to obey. I’m not going to run errands for a group of bullies.

Even if one of those bullies has a knife.

However, that does make negotiations slightly more compelling.

“I didn’t choose this,” I say. “The King picked me. He gave me the room beside his. He chooses to shower me with gifts and attention. I’ve done nothing to warrant any of this.”

“So you won’t fall in line?” Madeline asks, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m not your slave,” I tell her.

Her upper lip curls. “If you think we haven’t dealt with girls like you in the past, you are mistaken.” Turning to Gwen, she nods. “Once we tarnish your pretty little face, the King will lose interest. Then you will know what it’s like to be at our mercy.”

Gwen takes a threatening step forward, lifting her knife.

Swallowing thickly, I try hard to remember the Pitmaster’s training. I really wish I still had my blade. As it is, I have nothing to defend myself.

Gwen roars as she slashes forward.

I raise my arms.

Blood splatters over the tiles of the floor.

Chapter 44

The knife cuts a straight line across the backs of my arms, which I raise to protect my face. Blood immediately drips from the wound, but it is not deep. I’m fortunate.

These women really do seem more intent on maiming me than killing me.

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” Madeline says, annoyance rising in her voice.

“Sorry, I’m not going to just stand here will you maim me,” I tell her.

“You should. This is your lot. Accept it.”

“No,” I say with defiance.

Madeline scoffs at me and then turns to Gwen. “Do whatever you need to do, Gwen.”

“Gladly,” Gwen replies. Her dark eyes fill with murderous intent and she shoots forward to strike once more, with more force this time.

I raise my arms to block again, but the contact is never made.

Instead, Bethany plows into the side of Gwen, catching her off balance. Together, they tumble into a heap on the floor. The knife slips from Gwen’s hand and skitters across the floor to Madeline’s feet.

“Get off of me,” Gwen says, pushing Bethany away.

Bethany scurries to her feet, then comes to my side. “We should go,” she says, grabbing my hand.

I fully agree.

Allowing Bethany to lead, we start to run in the opposite direction of Madeline and her entourage.

Bethany is likely leading me back toward my room, but to get there, we have to pass by the entrance to the Hall once more.

This would be fine if only a few guards were present. They don’t even pretend to care about anyone other than the King.

Unfortunately, it’s not just guards standing outside the doors to the Hall. Caleb himself is also there.

He spots us the moment we turn the corner, then hurries to intercept. He ignores Bethany but catches me by the shoulders. Releasing Bethany’s hand, I come to a screeching halt. Bethany continues on a few steps before turning around.

“Where do you think you are running off to?” Caleb demands fury sparking in his eyes. “What treachery are you plotting against me now?”

“I’m not “I start to say.

“Lies!” he bellows, shaking me by my shoulders. The movement is forceful, I close my eyes to fight back the seasickness from the sudden jolts.

“I’m not lying!”

“My King, forgive me,” Bethany tries to say.

“Silence!” Caleb shouts at her. Curling into herself, she backs up a step. “Anyone who conspires with this one will face a worse fate!”

“Bethany saved me!” I shout in reply.

That, at least, seems to give him pause in his anger. He stares at me a moment, then sniffs the air. Confusion covers his face as he looks down. Blood from the wound on my arms is dripping down onto the floor. Streaks of it crisscross my arms, trailing down my hands between my fingers.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asks. Without waiting for a reply, he grabs one of my arms and holds it up so that he can more clearly see the slashing wound. “Someone attacked you.”

I just barely refrain from rolling my eyes. If he would listen, instead of flying off the handle right away, making his own assumptions, then he would know because I would have told him.

Stubborn, hardheaded Alpha.

“Bethany saved me,” I say again. “She should be rewarded.”

Again, he ignores me. “This is a knife wound. Someone tried to stab you.”

“They were trying to mark her face,” Bethany adds.

Somehow he seems to hear that because the fury returns to his eyes tenfold and his frown deepens critically.

In a growl, his eyes on me, he asks, “Who?”

“I’m bleeding all over the floor,” I say, trying to change the subject. “I should get cleaned up, shouldn’t I? I wouldn’t want anyone else to see me like this.”

Caleb glowers at me, even as Tristan steps away from the other guards to approach us.

“Perhaps we should move this conversation elsewhere,” Tristan suggests. “The guests might mistake this distrust amongst your harem for weakness.”

A low growl escapes the back of Caleb’s throat, but he must see reason. He grips me by the forearm and starts to drag me back toward the direction of our rooms. Bethany and Tristan follow along quietly.

The wing holding all of our rooms is off-limits to the party guests. Several guards are stationed along the way to stop any who would be nosy or stupid enough to try to sneak by. They all stand at attention as Caleb passes by.

We walk past his own chambers to mine, where he throws open the door and drags me inside. Bethany and Tristan enter behind us. Tristan closes the door.

Caleb drags me toward the small two-person table near the foot of my bed, then not-so-gently pushes me down onto the chair. Grabbing my arms, he places them on the table.

To Bethany, he demands, “Clean these wounds at once. If they become infected, you will not live to see another day.”

“Yes, my King,” Bethany says and rushes into the bathroom. She returns with a first aid kit and a few towels.

Caleb paces as Bethany sits on the other chair at my table. She opens the first aid kit and pulls out some disinfectant.

“This will sting,” she tells me before she applies it to my cuts.

I hiss, it is painful, but endure. It could have been so much worse.

And compared to my other wounds, including the ones inside of me from being poisoned, this one might as well be a paper cut.

Caleb growls as he paces. Tristan steps nearer to him.

“We will punish those responsible,” Tristan says, as if in an offer of comfort to the clearly agitated King.

“That someone would even try, unnerves me,” Caleb says. His voice is gruffer than before as if he’s begun to shift in rage. “Perhaps | should cleanse the lot of them.”

“An extreme measure,” Tristan says. “We will do as you command, of course, my King, but I would caution against that much bloodshed at once. Your harem needs to appear strong, even if it’s not.”

Caleb chuffs as he turns back to me. “Tell me who did this.” His eyes are slightly red now. His hands are still shaped like human hands, but his fingers are curled like they might spring claws at any moment.

I have no doubt that if I provide a name, that person will be tracked down and killed at once, simply on my word. He’s so enraged, he won’t even investigate. He’ll simply murder.

Madeline and her entourage should be punished for what they’ve done, but death seems… extreme. After all, they hadn’t intended to kill me.

I really don’t want to be responsible for any more deaths.

So I keep my mouth firmly closed.

“Harper,” Caleb growls. “Answer me.”

He won’t take silence as an answer. I’ll need to give him something, even if that something is a bald-faced lie.

“I didn’t see who it was,” I say.

Bethany, while cleaning my wounds, lifts her gaze to me. I don’t meet her eyes, keeping mine locked firmly on the rampaging King in front of me.

He curls his lips up, showing how his canines are extending.

“You are lying.”

Chapter 45

Bethany continues to clean Harper’s wounds, though her mind is reeling. Why won’t Harper tell the King what he demands? Madeline, Gwen, and the others deserve whatever punishment comes their way, not just for what happened here today, but also for so many other atrocities they’ve committed against fellow harem members and their wait staff.

Bethany’s previous mistress was even the victim of their crimes once. They tied a frail rope around her waist and dangled her off the rafters, laughing about how she looked like a bobber on a fishing line.

They didn’t even ask her anything, or seemingly want anything from her. They just wanted to watch her suffer.

Bethany had been younger then, more timid. She’d been too afraid to intervene.

Not like she was this time, rushing in to save Harper from the knife. Maybe Harper’s kindness had helped embolden her. After all, Harper stood up for her against the bullies. Fair’s fair, Harper deserved that kind of loyalty in return.

Harper is a good person, unlike most of the people in this place. Perhaps that is why she is unwilling to give up Madeline and Gwen. She knows, that with the King’s temper, they will most likely die.

But why give such loyalty to people who don’t deserve it? Especially if it earns her the King’s ire in return?

Yet, after looking at Harper’s face of defiance, I slightly turn to glance at King Caleb’s reaction.

He’s clearly furious, at the start of shifting into his wolf, yet he does not lose control. The opposite seems to be true – he’s slowly returning to his normal human self.

His glare falls onto Bethany, and she holds her breath, frightened.

“Finish cleaning her wounds and then bring her back to the party,” Caleb tells her. Then, turning toward the door, he barks at Tristan. “Stay with them to ensure they follow my commands.”

“Yes, King Caleb,” Tristan says with a small bow.

Without another word, Caleb strides to the door, opens it, and walks through. He slams it closed after him.

Bethany jumps, but neither Tristan nor Harper has any outward reaction.

In the King’s absence, Bethany is even more confused. She has seen King Caleb interact with dozens of harem members over the years. He has never invested himself into their drama before, usually leaving the women to sort it out for themselves – even after bloodshed, or the dangling of Bethany’s previous mistress from the rafters.

Why, suddenly, does he seem to care so much about this one woman?

What could possibly make Harper so special?

It’s not Bethany’s place to question, so she continues her work, now covering the wounds with bandages.

Yet the question does stay on her mind as she does so.

Tristan walks closer to Bethany and me, that familiar bored expression on his face.

“You could just tell him the truth,” Tristan says.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I continue to lie.

Looking at me, Tristan tilts his head slightly to one side. “Why protect the women who did this? If you say their names, King Caleb won’t even question you. Not now, and not after. He will simply eliminate the threat.”

“I imagine that’s how things often happen around here,” I tell him. “But that’s not how things will be with me. I’m not going to have people murdered on a whim.”

“It’s justice,” Tristan says. “They attacked the King’s property with a blade. They deserve to have that same blade driven through them.”

The way he can so casually talk about killing someone makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“You are too soft,” Tristan says.

“Not vindictive enough, is more likely,” I reply. “I’ve seen enough death and what counts for your idea of justice around this place. I certainly won’t contribute to it.”

Some of the boredom ebbs from Tristan’s face, replaced now with a distant curiosity, the kind someone might express as they look at something unusual in an otherwise well-known place.

“You aren’t like anyone else in this kingdom,” Tristan says. “None that I’ve met before, anyway. No wonder you’ve stayed on his mind.”

“I’m not all that strange,” I reply, feeling self-conscious.

“You are,” Bethany agrees, speaking up. As I consider her, I find her giving me the same odd look that Tristan is. “No one here would take the time to learn the name of a slave.”

“You are my handmaiden,” I argue. “We are going to talk every single day. Why would I want to keep you so distant?”

“Typically,” Tristan cuts in, “Everyone here only looks out for themselves.”

“I couldn’t live like that,” I say.

“That’s why you are strange,” Bethany says.

Now, with the two of them ganging up on me, I’m really starting to feel self-conscious. Not enough that I will actually change anything about who I am, but enough that I really want this conversation to move onto something else.

“How are my arms?” I ask Bethany. She’s placing on the final bandage. “I don’t want to keep the King waiting.”

“Almost done,” Bethany says, focusing on her work.

To Tristan, I say, “People will notice the tears on my sleeves and my sudden bandages. Should I change?”

Tristan shakes his head. “It would be more obvious if you changed.”

“We’ll remove your sleeves,” Bethany says. “They’ve gotten all bloody anyway.”

“No one will say a word to you,” Tristan says. “They couldn’t ask even if they thought to. The King has made clear you are not to be approached.”

After fixing my bandages, Bethany removes her sewing kit once more and starts working on my sleeves. She cuts away the bloodied scraps then quickly mends what’s left, to make it seem as if the sleeves had been like this from the start.

“I’ll wait outside,” Tristan says, stepping into the hallway.

When he’s gone, I look at Bethany. “They kept confronting me about who did this. You were there, but they did not ask you once.”

Bethany lightly shakes her head. “I’m a slave. My word means nothing. I could scream Madeline’s name until my throat went hoarse, but no one would believe me. You are the one they will listen to. You have to be the one to tell them, or they will not act.”

“I won’t tell them,” I say.

“Then they won’t act.” Bethany finishes her work and then stands. “You are ready.”

Outside of the room, I reconvene with Tristan and together we walk back to the Hall. He doesn’t speak to me along the way, so I don’t speak to him either.

The guard at the door lets us in, and immediately I start searching for Caleb. Tristan stays at my side as he scours the room, and then begins walking through. I suppose, in this case, Tristan is acting as Caleb’s proxy, keeping away any potential conspirators that I might be plotting with. Or whatever else Caleb’s paranoid mind invented.

“There he is,” Tristan says, spotting Caleb first. He touches my arm, veering me in the right direction.

A few people clear from our path, opening up the line of sight, and I see him, Caleb.

I also see the woman standing very close to him.

The woman whose hand is resting far too comfortably on Caleb’s chest.

Chapter 46

The woman is wearing a too-tight red dress that pushes up her breasts provocatively and curves around her hips and ass like a second-skin, leaving little to the imagination. Her blonde hair is pulled back away from her face but then hangs down her back in loose ringlets.

She’s tracing tiny circles on Caleb’s chest, right over her heart, her long red nails catching on the diamonds encrusted into his tunic.

She seems entirely too familiar with Caleb, and it makes me want to rip her away and remind her of proper courtly decorum.

Immediately, I catch myself. Why do I care at all who flirts with Caleb, or who he allows to touch him? He is a ruthless King with an entire harem of women whose main purpose is to please him in bed. I’m going to feel uncomfortable with a woman touching his chest?

What’s wrong with me?

“Who is that?” I ask Tristan as we make our way over.

“One of the King’s many admirers,” Tristan says. “He’s unmarried. The kingdom’s most desired bachelor.” His cool gaze slides to me. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snap, though with alarm, I realize that’s exactly what my feelings are. How utterly foolish! This man has done nothing but torment me. I shouldn’t feel any kind of claim on him. In fact, I should be relieved that someone else might steal his attention away. Then maybe he’ll leave me in peace.

“Of course,” Tristan says, humor in his voice. “My mistake. How silly of me.”

I ignore him this time, and we continue to approach Caleb.

Coming closer, I realize now that despite how much the woman is leaning into Caleb, attempting to show off her sizeable assets, Caleb seems utterly bored with her. His gaze is not on her at all, but instead looking at his drink, or at his throne, or at a nearby passing guest, or finally, at me.

When he sees me, he immediately steps away from the woman and storms toward me.

“There you are,” he says, voice booming. “What the hell took so long?” As he reaches me, he grabs one of my arms and lifts it, inspecting it this way and that, likely checking Bethany’s work.

“Better to be thorough,” Tristan says. He nods toward the woman who is quickly approaching Caleb’s back. “Would you like me to handle your new lady friend?”

“Who?” Caleb asks. Glancing back, he spots the woman, then says to Tristan. “Yes.”

Tristan immediately steps forward, intercepting the woman before she can return to Caleb’s side.

A small sense of satisfaction rises within me, seeing her put-out expression as Tristan leads her away.

Caleb drops one arm and lifts the other. He gives this one the same careful consideration as he had the first.

“That handmaiden did an acceptable job,” Caleb says. “Good. I will not need to punish her.”

“Do I need to remind you that she saved my life? She is the sole reason that these wounds are not worse,” I say, annoyed on Bethany’s behalf. She shouldn’t be praised for the good she has done for me, not vaguely threatened.”

“If you would tell me who did this to you, I could handle it myself and this would all be a non-issue,” Caleb grumbles. “Yet you insist on being difficult.” He huffs a sharp laugh. “Though nothing about you has been easy. You are the most frustrating woman I have ever encountered.”

“You could let me go…?” I suggest.

He glares at me. “Tell me where my child is, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

He has no intention of letting me go, then.

“There is no child,” I say. “As I keep telling you.”

“You are a liar,” Caleb says. “You’ve proven that, time and time again. Eventually, I will have my answers.”

This isn’t the time or place to have an argument like this so I simply shake my head and let the conversation die.

Caleb slides his arm around my waist, as possessive as before.

“Tristan says that woman wanted to marry you,” I say, then immediately kick myself internally. Why can’t I leave this well enough alone? That woman is gone now, anyway.

… But she might be back. That thought doesn’t sit right with me. Even though I have exactly zero reason to care about any of this.

“Probably,” Caleb says. “Many women always try to woe me at these events, as if I will fall victim to their charms so easily. They only thirst for the power they would have as my Luna.” She huffs a sharp breath. “They insult me with their efforts. They know only my true mate will stand at my side as my Queen.”

I can’t help the strange glance I give Caleb. He doesn’t strike me as particularly romantic, yet here he is, saying not only does he believe in true mates, but he will deny permanent entanglements with anyone who is not his.

He catches me staring. “Does that surprise you?”

“You have so many women in your harem…”

“A harem is not a wife or a mate,” Caleb says.

I suppose that’s true.

“Ah. There is the new head harem member. She’s running late. I expected her speech twenty minutes ago,” Caleb says, drawing my attention back to the stage, where Madeline is struggling to climb up in her tight dress.

As she is Caleb’s harem, no one but him can deign to help her, at least not without express permission, which Caleb doesn’t give. Nor does he move to help her himself.

We just all quietly watch her struggle.

Someone in the crowd snickers. Someone else clears their throat.

When Madeline is finally on the stage and standing once more, she takes a second to correct herself and push back her hair.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” she says, in an effort to gain everyone’s attention, as if they all haven’t already been watching her struggle. “We thank you for attending our party tonight, where we celebrate the newest member among us.”

She speaks cleanly and crisply, with confidence and pride. How long did she have to stand in Veronica’s shadow, waiting patiently for her demise so that Madeline could take the spotlight?

Now that she has it, she seems intent on keeping it.

Whatever. She can burn herself in the light for all I care. Just leave me out of it.

“Harper. Welcome to the harem,” Madeline says, gesturing to me. Everyone begins to politely clap.

I dip my head in acknowledgment and thanks.

Caleb leans closer to my ear. While everyone glances at me, he whispers, “The moment this is over, I’m going to take you back to your room, rip this dress off of you, and fuck you until I make you cry.”

With everyone still looking at me, I can’t react. I try to force the heat back from my cheeks, but it’s no use, I’m definitely blushing.

“Maybe you’d like me to eat you out first,” he continues, voice low and rough in my ear. “I know you like my tongue, and all the things it can do.”

Blessedly, Madeline starts talking again, reclaiming the attention of the room.

Just in time.

Biting my lower lip, I glance back at Caleb. His gaze drops from my mouth to the deep V-cut of my dress. Lifting a hand, he lightly traces the edge of the fabric, just barely brushing my exposed skin.

He hums. “Why wait? A king can leave anytime he wishes, especially if he has business to attend to…”

田

Chapter 47

Caleb drops his hand down to my side and takes my wrist. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t command, simply turns away from me, and starts walking to a side door. I immediately fall into step behind him.

At his whispered promises, my pussy began to feel wet. Now, with the promise of more on the horizon, I’m dripping. My nipples are tight buds and my skin is electric.

I want to be touched, tasted… even claimed.

I have no love for this man, but I know my lot in life here. I am an object of his pleasure. So, I might as well take my own while I’m at it.

The side door leads to a side room with a couch, a table, and a set of chairs.

He’d promised to take me back to my room. Maybe he doesn’t trust himself to walk that far. He’s already hobbling, his hard dick tenting his pants.

He closes the door behind us and locks it.

Facing me once more, he closes the distance between us, grabs either side of the fabric of the deep v-neck cut of my dress, and tears it apart, exposing my bare breasts and my peaked aching nipples.

Whatever annoyance I have about him ruining my dress goes straight out the window as he grabs me by the ass, and yanks me against up and then up. My feet dangle off the ground as he lifts me up and up in an impressive show of strength. When my bare tits are exposed to his face, he leans forward and seals his mouth over one of my nipples.

Sweet relief.

My head falls back, my hair cascading down. He laps at my nipple, then circles around it, nudging relentlessly against the tight bud.

I comb my fingers through his hair, holding on as much as I can.

After a moment, he pops his mouth off one nipple, then kisses his way to the other, where he sucks that one into his mouth and offers it the same attention.

I try to bite back my moans, not wanting the others outside to hear. I don’t want Caleb to hear either. The asshole, I never consented to any of this. As good as it feels, he doesn’t deserve to know how much. I’ll keep my mouth clamped shut as long as I can.

It’s not as easy to hide the way my back bows as if begging him to touch more. Or the way my skin trembles as sweat begins to form on the surface of my skin.

His mouth is still on my breast, and he carries me toward the table. After kicking one of the chairs out of the way, he lowers me down. With my back pressed flat against the wood, he leans over me, continuing to devour my nipple.

Without the need to hold me any longer, he lifts one of his hands to my free breast, to flick at my nipple with his thumb.

I press my head back against the table with a thunk.

Lifting his head, he replaces his mouth with his free hand, teasing both of my nipples with his thumbs now.

He watches me. “You are trying my patience, slut,” he growls. “I want to hear your noises.”

“The others…”

They could hear, just as we can hear the band playing from inside this room.

“Let them,” Caleb says. “They will know I please my harem, just as I take my pleasure from them.”

Stubbornly I close my mouth once more.

Caleb narrows his eyes at me as if he sees a challenge here. Then, pushing apart my thighs, he drops to his knees. This puts his face directly in front of my pussy.

He’s not planning to…?

Oh! OH!

He is.

Caleb surges forward, tongue first, and licks all the way from my entrance to my clit. Once there, he seals his mouth over my clit and starts to suck in earnest.

I nearly buck right off the table. His hands grab my hips and roughly hold me down as he laps and sucks and utterly assaults my straining clit.

It feels so good, my mind is blank to all but yes and more, please more.

With my last working brain cell, I stubbornly keep my mouth shut.

Caleb growls, and the vibrations bring me even more pleasure.

Then, without warning, he slips a finger inside of me. Then two, pumping in and out, mimicking the speed he usually fucks me with.

It’s simultaneously too much and not enough.

It feels so good, but it’s not his dick.

Hells have mercy, I want him to fuck me.

Even with my mouth clamped shut, I can’t hide my noises anymore.

“Mmm…Mmm!”

“You taste so sweet,” he says, licking around his fingers at the entrance to my pussy. “I’ve been merciful long enough.”

This is merciful?

At once he pulls his fingers out of me and stands. In a flash of flying fabric, he disrobes until he’s totally naked.

My dress is in tatters but even so, the disparity of him naked while even the slightest parts of me are clothed sends fresh dampness between my thighs.

Scenting the air, he growls slightly.

His dick is rock-hard, straining. Taking it in hand, he lines himself up with my entrance and then pushes his way inside.

He finds no resistance as he slips in all the way to the hilt.

My body rejoices, finally filled once more.

“Would they could see you like this…” Caleb growls. He places his hand at the base of my throat, his thumb brushing alongside my silver collar. “They want to. Every man in there wanted the right to fuck you. But none will ever be able to. Do you know why?”

I’m yours. I bite myself back from saying it, whimpering instead.

He grins as if he still heard the words from my lips. “That’s right. You are my whore. This wet hole is for my dick alone. Now, I gifted you with pleasure. Why don’t you be a good little slut and tell your King how much you like it when he fucks you?”

“Mmm…”

“Use your words, slut. Or I won’t let you cum all night.”

I squeeze my eyes shut now too, the image of his hot nakedness between my thighs making me too horny for cognitive thoughts.

I’m quickly losing my willpower.

“You need more convincing?” he asks.

Slowly, he starts to pull himself out. Then, in a rush, he forcibly shoves himself back inside of me. Grabbing my hips, he keeps me steady, even moving me back and forth to meet his thrusts.

I feel like a sex toy, bobbing back and forth on his dick. But unlike a sex toy, pleasure is also filling me.

At the force of his thrusts, my breasts bounce up and down. His eyes stay fixed upon them. He licks his lips and my nipples harden.

Then, mercilessly, he changes the angle of his hips, and bucks back into me, more upward this time.

His dick drags across my g-spot.

I arch off the table.

My mouth falls open.

“Ah-Ah! Ah!”

“That’s it, slut.” Caleb growls, his voice so low and sexy, it eggs me on even more. “Let the whole capital know how well I’m fucking you. Let them wish they were me, plowing into you – fucking owning you.”

“Ah… Yes… Please… Ah!”

“Say my name, whore. Say my fucking name.”

Again and again, he pistons his hips, driving his hard dick inside of me with unrelenting force.

“Caleb…”

“Louder.”

“Caleb…!”

“Louder.”

“Caleb!”

“Again,” he growls, pushing impossibly harder, impossibly faster.

“Ah! Caleb! Yes! Caleb, please!!”

He doesn’t give up, again and again, until I finally scream at the top of my lungs.

“Caleb!!!”

My pussy tightens as I topple over the edge.

He pulls out at the last moment and comes all over my stomach and chest.

Chapter 48

The days continue on. Caleb constantly commands that I be on hand, ready to give him a massage whenever he demands one, so my routine starts to reflect Caleb’s own. I wake up early, wash and change, and then meet him outside of his door as he leaves his room.

He walks and I follow, him to the Hall. There, I stand near Tristan while Caleb performs his other duties, speaking with his people, his advisors, or even dignitaries from foreign nations.

One such dignitary glances at me in clear disgust. “Need that woman be in the room while we discuss such private political matters?”

Caleb growls, deep and low. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

The dignitary pales. “No, King Caleb, I was simply… uh… making an observation…”

“Then keep your observations to yourself, lest you unintentionally offend me,” Caleb snaps, his eyes flashing red.

The dignitary bows his head slightly. “Many apologies, King Caleb. I meant no offense.”

I have no illusions that Caleb is speaking in defense of me. In truth, I know his anger is as simple as he doesn’t like to be questioned, especially not in his own hall. Really, I should leave the room for some of the things they are discussing.

I don’t understand all of it, not being overly familiar with the southern country the dignitary comes from, but I know enough that I should probably be excluded.

Perhaps Caleb doesn’t consider me a threat. Maybe he’s right. Who would I even tell the information I learned? I have no way of communicating beyond these walls.

Caleb knows that. Everyone does.

At the peak of Caleb’s fury, I glance at Tristan beside me. He seems utterly bored with the entire ordeal.

Caleb losing his patience must be a common occurrence. It always seems to be, when I’m around. I’d thought it would be different with others… Actually, now that I think of it when he is dealing with his people, he usually shows a level of restraint.

Perhaps this dignitary has been on thin ice from the beginning.

“Please remember that I’m here to help negotiate a peace treaty, King Caleb,” the dignitary says. “I mean only to promote peace and solidarity between our two nations.”

Caleb grunts. “What you propose is an arranged marriage. How old is the princess you are trying to pawn off on me this time?”

My heart immediately jumps into my throat. A marriage?

King Caleb truly is the most eligible bachelor, not just in this kingdom but across the continent, it seems.

“She’s seventeen now, King Caleb,” the dignitary says.

“The answer is no,” Caleb says flatly. Seventeen is too young, but it seems like Caleb would have said no regardless. “You try this every year. The answer will always be the same.”

The dignitary sighs. “I must ask that you reconsider…”

Caleb sits upright in his chair. “I gave you my answer. Are you questioning my judgment again?”

“No, King Caleb.” The dignitary takes a step back.

Caleb shoots a frustrated glance at Tristan, who moves in at once.

“You know the drill by now, Sir. How many visits is this?”

“Seven,” the dignitary replies.

My stomach twists uncomfortably. Someone tell me he hasn’t been here trying to pawn off that same girl since she was ten? No wonder Caleb seems so annoyed with him.

“How about a drink,” Tristan says. “That tavern you like so much is open by now. The one with the big-chested -“

“Yes, yes, very good,” the dignitary says, eyeing me. “Thank you.” He beats a hasty retreat, Tristan in his shadow.

“Consort,” Caleb grumbles from the throne.

Startling out of my thoughts, I look at him. “Yes, my King?”

He gestures to his head. “I have a headache. I demand a scalp massage.

“At once, my King,” I say and rush forward. By now, I know the places to stand and take my spot behind him. Leaning forward, I push my fingers through his hair and start to press into his scalp.

He hums contentedly, as his shoulders sag slightly in relaxation.

When I start to feel him drifting, I slowly stop the massage. I know better than to try to put him to sleep. He’s always furious afterward.

“Better?” I ask, carefully pulling my hands back.

“For now,” Caleb says, though I can tell by how clear his voice is that his headache has passed. He doesn’t sound nearly so irritable anymore.

Tristan returns through the door, just as I’m stepping down from the stage to return to my post along the side of the Hall.

“King Caleb,” Tristan says. “Madeline, from your harem, wishes to have a word.”

Immediately, Caleb rubs his forehead again. “Have you told her I’m busy?”

“She insists on waiting until you can speak, even if it takes hours,” Tristan says, giving the King a flat look that says he’s already tried to talk Madeline out of this conversation.

Madeline, I know, can be headstrong.

With another, lengthy sigh, Caleb says, “Show her in.”

Tristan returns to the door and comes back with Madeline in tow. As Tristan walks to stand beside them, Madeline approaches the throne, then deeply curtseys before it.

“My King,” she says.

“Consort,” he replies, not even trying to hide his obvious annoyance. “Why do you bother me?”

“This humble servant merely wishes to convey a request, my King…”

Caleb waits. Madeline waits longer.

“Out with it,” Caleb snaps.

“Since the arrival of your newest consort, my King, you have denied the other women of the harem their visitation with you. The women grow lonely, missing your warmth in their beds, as well as your… virility.”

Caleb smirks at the compliment. It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.

The harem should be pleased that I’ve occupied all of the King’s time. That could give them their own peace of mind and freedom to do whatever they want. They don’t have to sit around waiting for him all the time anymore.

Madeline obviously doesn’t see it that way. “Perhaps tonight, if my King could choose a different woman to lay with.”

Caleb hums, as if considering it. For reasons I don’t want to think about too hard, my heart starts to hurt, like it’s suddenly caught in a vice made of thorny vines.

“Is it my dick you miss, consort, or is it my favor?” Caleb replies, his eyes narrowing.

Madeline looks up at him in surprise. “It’s your passion, my King! Nothing else, I assure you.”

“Oh?” Caleb pushes up from his throne, standing now, adding several inches to the already high height he was towering over Madeline. “Do not believe yourself so clever. I’ve seen the glares you and the others of your ilk have sent Harper’s way.”

“I meant no harm…”

“When I discover who slashed that mark onto her arm, I will make them suffer,” Caleb says. He hops down from the stage, then reaching down, grabs Madeline roughly by the chip, forcing her to look at him. “Pray that it’s not you who lands in the way of my ire.”

Then, he roughly shoves her away. Off-balance, she falls onto her backside.

As Caleb turns away, Tristan moves in at once, ushering Madeline back to the door. She goes willingly, but not before shooting me a cold glare.

That night, when I returned to my room, there was a sharp knife stabbed down into my pillow.

I know what this is, though I have no way of stopping it.

A warning.

Chapter 49

Before I can even think to hide the knife or have any reaction other than, oh, shit, Caleb walks through the door of my bedroom. He doesn’t even knock, simply opens the door and saunters right in.

When he sees the knife, he abruptly halts straight in his tracks. “What the hell is that?”

“I’m not sure…”

Caleb storms farther into the room, coming to a stop right beside my bed and the offending pillow.

“Was this here when you arrived?” he asks.

“…”

Grabbing the knife he pries it from the pillow and inspects it. “This is a steak knife from the kitchen. Anyone could have access to these.” He shakes the knife in my direction. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know.”

He growls in frustration. “Again, you lie to me!”

“I’m not lying this time,” I say in a flash, then, realizing my error, snap my mouth closed.

His eyes narrowing, he storms closer to me. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“You said that you are not lying this time. That means you’ve lied in the past.”

“No,” I say at once.

“Where is my child?!” he bellows roaring straight into my face.

I don’t want to cower, but he is intimidating, especially with his eyes flashing red as they are. I don’t have a wolf. Compared to him, I’m as fragile as a fallen tree branch. One wrong step and he could crack me right in half.

Still, even with the tremor of fear shooting through me, I force myself to remain at my fully height, hold his gaze, and reply, “There was never any child.”

Caleb growls louder. “And this?” He holds up the knife. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know,” I insist.

“Why are you protecting them? They mean to kill you.”

“I’m not protecting anyone,” I say, careful to not add ‘this time.’

Caleb throws the knife at the wall with such force that it lodges there. “Is it Madeline?”

“I don’t know…”

Grabbing me by the shoulders, he drags me toward him. His hands are clenched tightly, his fingers biting into my skin.

“Tell me,” he says once more, his eyes flashing dangerously. Yet, beneath the roar of anger, I see the rising heat of passion.

“I don’t -” I start to say, but I’m immediately cut off when he yanks me into his arms and covers his mouth with mine.

His kiss has teeth and leaves me gasping. Roughly, he holds me up against him, carries me to bed, and then throws me down onto it.

I can’t tell from his gaze whether he means to kill me or devour me. Sometimes I think he feels both.

Damn, this infuriating damned woman!

Time after time, she denies him the answers he seeks. First by refusing to share the location of their child. And now, by not telling him who is the one threatening her life.

It could be Madeline, but it could just as easily be any of the others. He needs answers to purge the betrayal from his harem. Why does she deny him the means to do so?

Why is she always so damned defiant?

Why can he not seem to break her spirit?

Bending down, Caleb grabs her dress and rips it clean off of her body. He’s deeply annoyed to see that she is wearing a bra and panties underneath. They only add to his rage.

“Get those off,” he growls, his voice rough from the wolf he’s barely holding back.

At once, Harper reaches behind her and unclasps her bra, finally revealing her delectable tits to his hungry eyes. She moves slower with her panties – too slow. Caleb grabs them and rips them off.

“Hey!” she objects.

He growls louder, silencing her.

She denies him in every other way. He will not be denied this.

Quickly, with a practiced ease, he sheds his own clothes until he is down to nothing. His cock is already hard, aching for this insufferable woman, yet it still swells as she looks down at it, her own hunger sparking in her eyes.

She likely has no idea she looks as she does, with how often she tries to object to his claiming her. Doesn’t she understand that he can see the lust in her eyes, as well as smell the desire building between her thighs?

He sniffs now, scenting it. So sweet. He half wants to taste it, but tonight is not the night for rewards. She will be punished for her lies, for her denying him.

For her… being threatened.

Under his raging lust, confusion wavers in the back of his mind. Why does he care about her life being threatened? This is how the harem determines its hierarchy. It’s always been this way before, and he’s never given a shit.

Let them all murder each other, for all he cares. He can always get more women to fuck.

But this time…

Damn it to the hell, this woman confounds him.

Pushing those thoughts away, he roughly grabs her by the ankles and drags her toward him, so that her ass is on the edge of the bed, with her legs up over his chest.

Lining himself up, he wastes no time grabbing her hips and plunging deep inside of her.

She claws at the blankets as her eyes squeeze shut. He should have gone slower, perhaps, but he could tell from her scent that she was ready.

Still, he doesn’t move until her eyes open. They’re so filled with desire, they egg him onward until he is bucking wildly into her tight wet hot pussy.

“Take it,” he growls, delving deeper. “Fucking take it.”

She moans and thrashes, her flawless skin damp with sweat.

She’s so fucking gorgeous like this, spread out, begging for him, taking his dick so good.

“Mine,” he growls, possessive over her like this in a way he doesn’t bother trying to understand.

No one will ever see her like this again. Not for the rest of her life.

Only him.

The consort orgasms four times before finally passing out on his dick. Caleb pulls out of her just as he comes, unwilling to gift her his seed.

His seed is meant only for his true mate.

As she rests there quietly, and he comes down from his high, he watches her with curious fascination.

What is it about this woman that affects him so strangely?

Even now he feels at peace, as he readjusts her on the bed, bringing her head to the pillow. Then he lowers himself down beside her.

She’s covered in his scent, which pleases him. No males will try to steal her away tonight.

That thought again startles him. He doesn’t care!

It must be the sex that’s addling his mind. After all, she is quite gifted in bed, offering herself up to him so beautifully. He loves watching her tits bounce, and the way her mouth falls slack when he hits the right spot inside of her.

Mostly, he enjoys making her scream his name, over and over again until she’s hoarse. Let the whole kingdom know where he takes his pleasure, he could care less.

Yet… even without the sex…

Even in the Hall, when she is simply near…….

Even now, when the sex is done and supposedly he should return to his own chambers.

He is at peace. Because of her.

As he drifts off to sleep at her side, the question remains…

Why?

Chapter 50

Another day, another banquet, this time for lunch. I’m starting to realize that the noble elites require Caleb’s time as much as his people’s problems do, likely to make themselves feel important. Half an hour into this banquet, and I’m still unsure what the purpose even is.

When I ask Tristan, he gives me the flat, bored look I’m coming to expect and says, “It’s some nobleman’s birthday. Our King tries to play nice these days. He’s killed too many nobles in the past. It’s been tiresome trying to replace them.”

An answer like that, which includes such blatant murder, shouldn’t be said so lightly. But, as I’ve been learning, there is nothing soft about this place. Only the strong survive. The rest are walked over so much they suffocate.

Thank the gods I at least have Bethany in my theoretical corner.

“There,” Tristan says, nodding his head.

I follow where he’s indicating and see a man wearing a gray sash from shoulder to shoulder. Otherwise, he’s mostly average. Average height and weight and build, with brown hair in a fashion that many other men have.

“That is the man of the hour. Lord Larkin. A dreadful bore,” Tristan says. “But he’s been pushing for this banquet. No doubt he intends to use the occasion to ask a favor of our King.”

“Does King Caleb know that?” I ask.

“Of course,” Tristan says. “He likely suspects many others with come to him for favors tonight as well. He’s not usually wrong in these things.”

“How tiresome,” I say. It must be exhausting having so many people wanting things from you all the time. Then again, he is the King. It’s his job to oversee all of his people’s needs.

“That’s why you are here,” Tristan says. “I anticipate many headaches tonight.”

“I’ll do my best to give him relief.”

“See that you do. If you’ll excuse me.” While talking to me, Tristan sees something off behind me and quickly heads to resolve it.

I’m only standing alone before Caleb swoops in to stand beside me. “There you are, consort.”

“Looking for me, my King?” I ask, teasing him lightly.

He seems in a less murderous mood than usual, which makes me feel bold.

I don’t know, after the rough- and frankly, mind-blowing – sex last night, when I woke up with him beside me this morning, sleeping and peaceful, my heart shifted, ever so slightly.

Yes, he is capable of many terrible things. But… I’m starting to see a side of him that is more… human. Not soft, just more vulnerable, in a way. He’s still a sharp blade, but maybe the handle isn’t as thorny as I thought.

Whatever happened to me, whatever I saw in him, it made it easier to be in his presence. In fact, as little sense as it makes to me, I sometimes look forward to it. It’s all very strange. Maybe my brain is just trying to make the most of a bad situation.

“I was looking for you,” Caleb replies, taking me seriously and not catching the teasing.

He might not be receptive to teasing. I’ll have to progress with caution.

“I need you to help shield me from these asinine conversations,” Caleb says, with annoyance clipping his words.

Just as I open my mouth to reply, Lord Larkin rushes over, “Oh, King Caleb! If I may have a moment!”

Caleb immediately glowers.

Turning to Lord Larkin, I speak up at once, “Pray, forgive me, Lord Larkin, but I’ve just been promised the King’s ear. You don’t mind if I go first, do you? There’s plenty of banquet left for you to go next.”

Lord Larkin frowns as he glances me over. I’m clearly only a member of the harem, I’m not sure how I rank compared to a Lord. But I do kind of remember seeing him at the event where I was introduced. If he was there, he undoubtedly heard what went on after.

Yes, he must be thinking of that, because as his cheeks turn red, he stammers something, and then scurries away.

Glancing at Caleb, I risk teasing him again. “You owe me one.”

“I owe you nothing, wench,” he grumbles, yet even as he says it, he threatens an arm around my waist and yanks me closer to his side.

“You were promised the King’s ear, were you?” He looks at me with mischief in his eyes. “What could you wish to ask of your king?”

“When do we actually plan to eat at this lunch banquet?” I ask. Forty-five minutes in now, and I haven’t seen even one sandwich.

Caleb scoffs at me. “Did I not feed you well enough at breakfast?”

What could he expect? Rigorous near-nightly sex makes a person hungry. I wasn’t going to say that to him, though, because I don’t want him to know how much I enjoy it. I’m sure my honest feelings would slip onto my face if I even tried to start.

Caleb looks over to an attendant and nods.

Immediately, the attendant disappears. A minute later, tables covered in food are wheeled into the Hall.

“There,” Caleb says. “Satisfied?”

“Yes,” I say at once.

He grabs my ass, then lets me go. “Be quick, lest that troublesome Lord bothers me while you’re gone.”

Nodding, I take off in the direction of the table.

I’m nearly there when one of the harem bumps into me.

“Oops!” she says as she spills her red wine all over the front of my dress.

What the hell!

There’s no way that was an accident. She didn’t hit me hard enough for any of this to be real.

I openly glare at her.

She shrugs. “You should really get that cleaned up. Red wine stains, you know. If only you weren’t so clumsy.”

As much as I want to reprimand this woman, I can feel the curious eyes of the partygoers zeroing in on my direction.

I have to be the bigger person, or I risk making a scene. And if I make a scene, Caleb might storm over here and lob this woman’s head off, without asking any questions.

So, for now, I turn and walk out of the Hall and back to my rooms.

Yet, as soon as I walk in, I find Bethany sitting in the middle of the floor, crying.

“What is it?” I ask, rushing to her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine but the dresses…” Bethany says. “They came in a mob after you’d gone. I tried to stop them but they took everything. They took your whole wardrobe. Your dresses… everything’s gone!”

“Who did?” I ask. “Who came?”

Bethany lifts her crying red eyes up to me, and I know without her even having to say so that the ones who are responsible are Madeline, Gwen, and their entourage. Likely the one who spilled wine on me was just waiting for the signal that the deed was done.

I can only imagine them all in the Hall, waiting in gleeful anticipation for me to return in shame, wine spilled on my dress.

Standing, I move to the closet and peer within.

As Bethany said, everything is gone. Some hangers are on the floor. Only scraps of fabric and a bit of lace that must have torn off in the tussle are on the ground.

The King is expecting me, but I can’t return with a stained dress. It could risk embarrassing him. He’s been in such a good mood with me today.

I really don’t want him angry again.

“What do we do?” Bethany asks, miserable.

I don’t have any idea.

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Chapter 31

Caleb paces outside of the hospital room where inside, the doctors continue to try to save Harper’s life. It’s been thirty minutes so far, and still they work. A nurse he stopped told him, with fear in her eyes that it could be hours still before their work is done.

“There’s so much bleeding,” that nurse said. “As the doctors work, they have to be careful not to strain the heart too much or we could lose her…”

Damned fragile humans.

Caleb snorts now as he turns, ready to start his trek in the opposite direction.

Tristan, infuriatingly, continues to watch him from nearby as if he is studying him, some kind of specimen in a cage. Just one more thing Caleb will punish Tristan for when Harper is in the clear.

Tristan makes a humming noise as if realizing something, and Caleb stops at his pace to glare at him.

“What?” Caleb demands.

“Forgive me, my King,” Tristan said. “But I was just noticing that… it seems as if you might genuinely care for Harper.” “That vile slave woman has been nothing but a thorn in my side since the moment she was brought here,” Caleb snaps.

This is only mostly true, but he keeps those quieter moments locked deep away inside of him. He hasn’t forgotten the feel of her fingers in his hair as she gently massaged his scalp, helping him relax in a way that had never been done before.

Nor as he forgotten the way her body twisted and bowed delightfully beneath him in the throes of their passion. She could pretend to fight him all she wanted, but in the end, every single time, she curled those blunt fingernails into the meat of his back, tugging him closer with the full of her weak human strength.

She desired him. He could smell it in the air and taste it on her skin. Her words were ever-lies, but her body betrayed her truth.

If only it could betray other truths as well…

“I only care about my child,” Caleb continues. “If this slave dies, she will take that secret with her. I cannot allow that to happen.”

“Of course,” Tristan says, though his sarcastic tone marks a clear disbelief.

Caleb has half a mind to throttle this man right now. He could find another beta easily enough.

But he’s too busy right now.

He returns to his pacing.

Tristan stays blissfully silent.

Hours later, the doctors emerge from her room. Caleb grabs the closest one by the front of his scrubs and pins him into a nearby wall.

“I will hear good news now,” Caleb growls.

The doctor’s hands go up defensively. His face pales. “Y- yes, King Caleb. The patient is stable. She should pull through, though we will have to continue monitoring her…” An unwelcome shock of relief fills Caleb’s body. He hates the sudden feeling and shoves the doctor away roughly, taking it out on him.

“I will see her now,” he says and turns toward the door. “B-but my King….!” the doctor starts to say.

Caleb swivels on his heel, eyes blazing, fury firing within him. Surely this lowly servant is not trying to get in the way of the King?

The doctor immediately slinks back, frightened. “She is in a weakened state, my King. In your omnipotence… if you could extend… caution…”

“I will do whatever I please,” Caleb spits. Then turning toward the door, he pushes through it.

Harper is on the other side, asleep. Other nurses are in the room, checking the machines connected to her arms with tubes and wires.

“Get out,” Caleb snaps.

Seeing Caleb’s rage, the nurses tremble with fear. Unlike the doctor, they don’t need to be told twice to flee the room and clear the way for Caleb.

Approaching Harper, he sees that her frail body is covered in bandages and bruises. Even her neck is wrapped up in gauze. He growls lightly, knowing his marks are covered. At the sound of his growl, she begins to stir.

Good. He will finally have some answers.

I feel the moment I return to consciousness because my body hurts all over. It’s a dull kind of hurt though, the kind that feels distant – likely from pain-killing drugs.

Nearby I hear the beeping of a heart monitor. It seems to be matching in time with my own heartbeat.

Am I in a hospital? How strange. Shouldn’t I be dead?

It takes some time before I convince myself to blink my eyes open and actually see for myself where I am and what’s happening.

There’s a handsome man standing beside my bed. Gods above and below, he’s the most gorgeous male I’ve ever seen in my entire life, even with that brooding look in his eyes.

Who is he? I wonder.

Then I remember, and my stomach sinks.

King Caleb leans over my bedside, glaring down at me from above.

“Tell me why you didn’t beg me for mercy when you had the chance,” he says, voice sharp with barely-retrained anger. That seems to be his preferred way of talking to me. Even on my deathbed, I can’t escape it.

It would probably kill him to treat me with a modicum of kindness.

“You wanted answers that I’ve already given you,” I tell him.” That hasn’t changed. I will tell you until I’m blue in the face, there was never any child.”

“You liar…” he growls. He’s intimidating, flashing his sharp canine teeth, but after everything I’ve been through – or maybe it’s the drugs – I don’t have it in me to be afraid.

“I’m not lying,” I insist.

His eyes narrow. “I should have let you die.”

“But you didn’t,” I remind him.

At once, his hand goes to my throat and he starts to squeeze. The dull pain amplifies slightly, especially when his fingers dig into the wounds made by the lion’s sharp teeth. Even then, I can’t manage more than a tired whimper. “You will tell me honestly what I want to know,” Caleb demands. Some of his rage seeps into his voice, calling forth his Alpha tone. It makes me want to comply, but that won’t make a difference.

I’m already complying. He just doesn’t believe me.

“I never had a child,” I say again.

“That’s not my question this time,” he says coldly, surprising me.

I blink at him. What else could he possibly want?

“Before you passed out, you said a man’s name. Samuel,” Caleb spits the name out with disgust.

My heart drops down into my stomach. The heart monitor picks up how fast the pace increases which only seems to make Caleb angrier. His fingers curl tighter. His upper lip twists into a snarl.

“I recognize the name. He is the soon-to-be Alpha of your pack, is he not? I would know your relationship with this ‘man.”

It’s hard to swallow but I manage, my throat pressing up against Caleb’s palm. Otherwise, I stay still and quiet.

Caleb is irrationally quick to anger, and he believes me to be his property. Who knows what he would do if he knew my heart belonged to another?

“What does he mean to you?” Caleb growls. “What do you mean to each other?”

Chapter 32

“Answer me,” Caleb demands.

I can’t possibly tell him the truth. In his rage, he might purposefully seek out Samuel just to kill him.

“We’re like siblings,” I say.

Caleb glares at me, clearly not believing me.

“It’s true,” I double down. “Soon, he’s even going to be my brother-in-law.” That truth still stings, but I share it regardless. Despite my feelings for Samuel, he’s unlikely to choose me in the end.

Whether what he told me recently on the phone was the truth, or if it was what he said the day I left, he still picked Leah in the end.

Just as well, since I’m never getting out here alive.

Caleb slightly loosens his hold on my neck, not enough to let me go, but enough to relieve some of the pressure and allow me to breathe normally.

“You called out his name on your deathbed,” Caleb says confidentially like he’s speaking facts. “A person does not do that with a sibling. He said his name like a lover…”

“He’s not…”

Caleb leans down over me, bringing his face very close to mine. “It does not matter what he once was. He will not be your lover any longer. You belong to me.”

Just as I think Caleb might kiss me, he shifts at the last moment and brings his lips near my ear instead. Just beneath my ear and above the bandaged skin of my neck, Caleb closes his mouth over an exposed patch of tender flesh and greedily sucks in his mark.

Even tired and sore, my body reacts to him at once. My pussy gets wet and my nipples harden. I start to squirm on my hospital bed, wishing he would touch me in other places, and then touch me more.

I hate this needy desperate side of myself that only seems to come alive with him. Ever since he left me wanting in that office room, I’ve wanted him to finish. Even a near-death experience couldn’t cut my desire for this man.

Foul and vicious as he is. Demanding, loathsome villain.

After breaking from my skin, he admires the mark he made. He licks across it once, tongue flat, then brings his lips up to my ear.

“I forbid you from thinking about any other man,” Caleb commands. “You are my property. Your body and mind belong to me.”

“My mind will always be my own,” I say weakly. I can’t defend my body as readily, not with the sexy pheromones it’s likely putting into the air. Caleb could easily call my bluff.

“Vile woman,” he snaps, then kisses me hard. He laps his tongue into my mouth, persistent and demandingly stroking my tongue with his.

I force myself to keep my hands on the bedsheets, but too soon, they move of their own accord, rising to his shoulders where I hold on.

When he breaks the kiss, he growls, eyes flashing with lust. “If you were well enough, I’d fuck you raw.”

A whimper escapes the back of my throat, despite my best efforts to bite it down.

Laughing lightly, he strokes a hand over my forehead to my hair and hushes me. “There, there. Soon, my little whore. When you are well again, I will fuck you so hard that you forget your own name, and only know mine.”

I shiver at the promise, then condemn myself.

I hate this man. He treats people like toys and plays with their lives. I shouldn’t desire him at all, let alone actively want him in my bed.

Still, as he snakes a hand under the covers and slides his fingers down, those protests go out the window pretty quickly.

I try to grab his wrist in a weak attempt to stop him. “No…”

“I’ll train your body,” he says. “If not your mind. I’ll touch you every time you are near me. Then, anytime you so much as glance even a picture of me, your body will alight. I want you begging for it every time I enter the room. My horny slut, craving my cock.”

The dirty talk should not work nearly as well as it actually does, but when his filthy words combine with the sudden press of his fingers to my click, all I can do is claw onto his shoulders, throw back my head, and whine.

Caleb hums, pleased, as he continues to toy with my body.

Leaning down to my chest, he finds where one of my hard nipples jerks out against my hospital gown and covers it with his hot mouth. The friction of the gown, combined with the insistence of his flicking and twirling tongue, sends spikes of pleasure shooting through me.

Beside us, the heart monitor beeps faster and faster.

Caleb releases my nipple after a long moment, but only so he can move to the other and give it the same treatment.

Arching my back, I press my chest forward, giving him more access. He slides his free arm under my back to keep that arch, as he continues to suck and lick his fill. All the while, his fingers do magical things to my clit, tugging and rubbing.

I’ve been so horny and on edge, that I can already feel myself reaching the peak.

I don’t know what I want… For him to slow down? To go faster? To stop? To keep going?

My mind is a mess.

He doesn’t seem to care about any of my input, continuing his onslaught with his mouth and hands.

Before long, I’m arching even farther.

I try to stop my cries, but they still push from my lips.

“Ah… Ah!”

Caleb pops off my nipple. “Say my name, slut. Tell everyone who owns you.” Immediately he latched back onto my other nipple, giving me no time to catch my breath – or my thoughts.

“C-Caleb!” I shout. Or, more, it’s wrung from me, as my orgasm strikes, shaking my limbs all the way down to my core.

I tremble. My pussy quivers, pushing out more dampness. I claw my fingernails into Caleb’s shoulder.

He smiles against my breast.

Then, I pass out.

Rock hard in his pants, Caleb needs his own release. For a moment, he considers fucking Harper while she’s unconscious on her bed, but… where is the fun in that? She needs to be awake to enjoy it, and her frail body might not handle the strain.

What he needs is a member of his harem to suck him off. Now.

Turning away from Harper, he pushes out of the room, storms past Tristan and the doctors, and heads for his bed chamber.

As expected, one of his harem leans against the wall outside of his door. She’s already topless like he summoned her that way. When she sees him in his state, she pouts out her bottom lip.

“Please allow this lowly one to pleasure you, my King,” she purrs.

It should excite him, this damp wet hole ready to be filled.

Instead, it only frustrates him.

He doesn’t want this one right now.

“Get out of the way,” he growls and pushes his way into his room. He slams the door closed behind him, locking everyone out.

Alone, he tears open his pants and his cock springs free. He takes himself in hand and begins to stroke in earnest.

Ca… -Caleb!

Thinking of Harper shouting his name brings him to the edge in record time.

If only he was inside of her, he’d have her screaming all night.

“Fuck,” he growls and cum.

Chapter 33

Compared to the depths of the coliseum, the hospital is like a five-star hotel. The hospital bed is plush. The room is relatively private, with just a few doctors and nurses coming in and out now and then. They even give me food that tastes fresh, not moldy, and hot or cold water whenever I ask for it.

As the hours and then days pass, Caleb stays far away from me. Once or twice I have seen him walk past the open door of my room, but never does he come in to see me. At least not while I’m awake. Sometimes when I wake from a nap I can see him in the air, but it could be my imagination.

I spend most of my time sleeping.

Once, Tristan does come by to visit, though he doesn’t stay long.

“I just wanted to see how you were feeling,” he says.

“Tired,” I reply. I always feel tired lately. That’s probably part of the recovery process.

Tristan frowns like something is bothering him.

“What is it?” I ask. With Caleb, I’d bite my tongue, but Tristan has always been the more approachable of the two, even if he looks at me like I’m an idiot half the time. The other half, he stares at me with cool disinterest.

He has neither of those expressions right now, which troubles me.

“You’ve been sleeping a lot,” Tristan says.

“My body needs time to recover,” I say. Then I remind him, “I am human.”

Tristan’s flat bored look returns. “I haven’t forgotten. But even so, your healing progress is slow. You should show substantially more improvement than you have.”

I have my own theory, that maybe my body is purposefully sabotaging us so that we can stay in this plush bed for longer. But I suppose that doesn’t really make sense. The doctors’ medicine should help fix my body even if it is being stubborn.

Glancing up, I eye the IV bag which slowly drips down a tub and into my arm. That’s how they’ve been giving me all of my medicines now.

Tristan walks closer, inspecting the bag.

“Have you noticed anything strange?” he asks. “Anyone who is hanging around that shouldn’t be? Any unusual smells?”

I’m not about to tell Tristan that I scented Caleb in this room. He’ll really think I’ve lost my mind. There’s not a chance in hell that Caleb cares enough about me to make sure I’m alright.

Yet Caleb wouldn’t fit the bill of what Tristan is asking for anyway. As King, Caleb is allowed to be wherever he wants. Nothing strange there.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I honestly don’t know. I’m asleep most of the time…”

“Keep your eyes open as much as you can,” he says, his features hardening into something stern and even more unhappy than usual. “The moment you see anyone who doesn’t belong, you call out for the King, do you understand?”

She says it like he means it, so I nod. “Okay.”

I don’t want to tell him that he’s scaring me, but the fact remains that he has. Perhaps what he’s gifting me here is fair warning.

This place may seem like a five-star hotel but it is still a murder house.

Someone could be trying to kill me.

Caleb is not walking past the hospital ward because he is concerned. It’s more of a way to further his authority. For too long, he avoided this section of his grounds, allowing the doctors and nurses here to become complacent without his order.

By showing his face, he’s reestablishing the proper hierarchy.

It makes perfect sense to his very logical brain.

And while he’s at the hospital ward, it would be just as logical for him to wander past the room of his slave, just to be assured that her health isn’t in decline. After all, he needs her alive to be able to locate his child.

With these thoughts in his mind, he makes this trek somewhat of a ritual, one he takes three times a day, in the morning, midday, and at night.

For all of his trips so far, he has found Harper sleeping. This time is no exception. However, this time, Tristan is standing outside of her door speaking softly with a doctor. Tristan’s face is a blank slate, but the doctor looks worried. It’s enough to put Caleb on edge.

Storming forward, Caleb immediately grabs the doctor by the shoulder and yanks him toward him.

“What is the meaning of this?”

The panicked doctor looks from Tristan to Caleb, back and forth like his head’s on a swivel.

“Harper isn’t getting better,” Tristan says. “In fact, she seems to be taking a turn for the worst.”

“What?!” Caleb shouts. He glares at the doctor, hate rising in his heart. “You said she was stable.”

“She w-was… my K-King.”

“You said she would recover in time!” Caleb shouts even louder.

“S-she should have!”

“Then why?” Caleb shakes him.

“We don’t know, Sir.”

Useless, Caleb throws the man aside and turns to Tristan instead. “Tell me what is happening here.”

“I’m not sure yet, but I have some suspicions,” he says.

“I would know them,” Caleb demands.

Tristan hesitates like he’s not ready to voice his thoughts.

Caleb doesn’t give him a choice. “Now, Beta.”

“I think someone might be poisoning her.”

Poison…?

Someone would dare try to take what belongs to him.

Enraged, Caleb tears away from Tristan and pushes open the door to Harper’s room.

At once he can tell something is definitely wrong. Her cheeks are swollen and her color is gray. The doctors run tests all around her.

With hooded, tired eyes, she watches them. “I don’t feel so well…” she says.

Caleb moves past the doctors to an open spot near Harper’s pillow. She turns to look up at him.

“I think I’m dying…” she says, almost as if in a daze.

Something uncomfortable twists in his gut.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls. “If you die, I will immediately destroy your entire pack, including your precious Samuel.”

Fear flashes in Harper’s eyes, immediately replaced by defiance.

Good. That’s the same look she gave him in the arena when she fought off those lions for far longer than her meager abilities should have allowed her.

It’s that impossible determination that should keep her alive.

“You stay alive,” he orders. This time, she had better listen to him or there would be actual hell to pay.

I am so tired, but I try to stay awake, afraid that if I close my eyes for too long, I might never wake up again.

Despite my best efforts, I nod off every now and then, though I’m quick to wake up again with a start.

It’s during one of these starts that I notice a figure beside me not in scrubs but instead dressed in fine silks and satins.

I recognize her, though with my tired, wounded mind, it takes me far longer than it should to place her.

She’s one of the harem’s women…

But I know her from elsewhere…

From before…

She’s from our pack.

“Nina?”

Nina glances down at me with an eerie kind of smirk on her face. The good humor does not meet her sharp-eyed gaze.

Holding up a needle, she clutches the tube of my IV.

“Don’t worry, Harper. It will all be over soon.”

Chapter 34

“What is that?” I say, trying to reach through the fog of my mind. It’s still so difficult to piece things together. To my knowledge, she is no doctor or nurse. She should not be touching those IVs. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing, Harper?” Nina says, laughing cruelly at my cloudy ignorance.

“I don’t… know…” Then, like the clouds suddenly parted in my mind, I’m overcome with a revelation.

Nina isn’t here to help me, to offer support, or to check on me because she’s from our pack. Nina is trying to kill me!

Has she been poisoning me all along? Is she the reason I haven’t been getting better?

But that doesn’t make any sense. Yes, we certainly don’t agree on everything about this place. She wants to climb up the harem ladder. I just want to go home. But I thought being from the same pack gave us a special bond, a special connection that transcended this place.

Obviously, Nina doesn’t feel the same connections to our pack that I do. We were never friends. We were never bound by anything.

Nina, like Veronica, only cares about moving herself up the ladder of power and influence, to hell with anyone who might come in their way.

I’m too weak to fight back. The best I can do is shuffle back and forth a little.

“Nina. You don’t have to do this,” I tell her. “I’m not a threat to you…” I don’t have any aspirations for power here. I only want to escape, to go back to my pack and be as near Samuel as I physically can be.

He might be tied to my sister now. Maybe our love would never be given the room it needs to develop beyond yearning from a distance, but even that slow torture would be preferable to this.

“I only want to go home,” I say.

“You think what you want matters?” Nina asks. “Your desires mean nothing compared to the whims that our King has for you. He jumped into that arena for you, Harper. That means more than you seem to understand…”

Weakly I shake my head. “He would have done that for anyone he believed he owned. To him, I’m his property…”

“He’s never done that before. Not with anyone, even the highest-ranking harem members. You saw how he handled Veronica.”

“If he treats me differently, it’s only because he wants something from me…”

“Ah, yes, the location of your child.” Nina shoots me a glare. “Another reason to kill you. The first child should have been birthed at the harem with a harem member. For our King to gift you with that privilege is a rare error from our King that needs to be corrected.”

“I was never pregnant…”

“It doesn’t matter, honestly,” Nina says. “The end result will be the same after this kicks in.”

The way she said, so calculatingly, with not even a hint of warmth in her voice, sends shivers through my veins. To her, I’m not a person, just a thing standing in her way. She’d cast my life aside as quickly and easily as she would clean mud off of her shoe.

Carefully, she aligns the needle with the opening of the IV.

If I don’t do something now, I’m done for. I try to move my arms. Even if all I did was yank out the IV, I would be safe. But I’m just so tired…

I feel like I have a thousand-pound weight on my limbs, holding me down.

“H-help…!” I call, but even getting enough air to shout is exceedingly difficult. “Help!”

“There’s no one coming to save you,” Nina says.

Pressing the needle into the opening, she starts to squeeze the liquid from the needle into the tube.

In horror, I watch as the liquid starts to drip down through the tube.

If I don’t do something, I’m going to die!

Wildly, gathering all of my last reservoir of strength, I reach one hand up to my arm and start to tug at the IV.

Nina sees and before I can save myself, she swats my hand away. It drops down to the bed. I don’t have the strength to lift it a second time.

“Help…!” I try once more.

Nina rolls her eyes. “So troublesome.” Lifting her own hand, she covers my mouth. Now, even if I shout it won’t matter.

The liquid drips down the line and finally into my arm.

The burning begins at once, and my heartbeat immediately kicks up. The monitors blare.

Someone notice! Someone come!

At this point, even the brute of a king would be a welcome sight. He would save me, just like he did in the arena…

I heard he even shifted. I wish I could remember…

My thoughts are getting hazy. It hurts to breathe.

Maybe it would be easier to succumb to the darkness. What has the light ever done for me, but take me from the people I care about and torture me?

If I just close my eyes…

If I succumb…

No. I fight the feeling, forcing my eyelids open. I can’t give up. Things are shitty now, but they can always get better. Samuel’s still out there… If I just hold on…

Where is the King? Shouldn’t he be protecting me?

My heart lurches in my chest. An alarm starts to scream at my bedside.

“Fuck,” Nina curses. “Just fucking die already.”

I hold on…

I can’t die yet…

In my mind, I whisper for the one savior I know in this place.

My torturer. My jailer. My king.

Caleb…

In yet another boring meeting, Caleb sits in a chair at the end of a long table, while his advisors bicker back and forth. He stopped listening long ago. This is a par for the course among them. They’ll argue, trying to sway Caleb’s opinion. In the end, Caleb will do whatever he wants to do anyway.

Things are proceeding as normal, until suddenly…

A sharp chill shivers up Caleb’s spine. Immediately, he’s on alert.

Did someone just say his name?

He glances behind him sharply. No one is there. The rest of the room is empty and undisturbed. There is only him and his advisors sitting at this table.

What could cause this sudden tension within him, then? Why does he feel like he’s under attack?

Returning his gaze to the table, his advisors are still bickering – except Tristan, at Caleb’s right, who watches him now.

“Is something amiss, my King?” Tristan asks. The simple question startles and silences all the others in the room. Everyone now looks at Caleb.

Caleb sees the worry on his advisors faces, and that worry itches at him, making him suspicious.

Are they the ones making him feel this way?

They could be plotting against him. They likely were… Hoping to undermine him so they could swoop in and claim more power.

A cold certainty fills him as his skin continues to feel pin-pricks of discomfort.

Something is actively going on. He only needs to uncover what.

With a narrow gaze, he glares around the room, staring sharply into the eyes of each of his advisors. Many of them look frightened. If they are innocent, why would they need to be afraid?

“Tell me,” Caleb says, hatred and suspicion bringing out the wolf in

his voice. His words are gravelly and low. “Which of you are plotting against me this time?”

Chapter 35

“Si…-sir?” one of the advisors stutters, when Caleb continues to glare at him specifically.

“Is it you?” Caleb demands. “Are you plotting to kill me?”

“No!” the man says at once and lowers his head in reverence. “Of course not, m-my King.”

Caleb doesn’t like how he denied it twice. Too many denials could just as easily be a confession.

“If any one of you is plotting to kill me, I will find out about it,” Caleb threatens. “And when I do, I will tear your limb from limb while you are still alive.”

A few faces pale further.

Only Tristan seems utterly unbothered by Caleb’s outburst. Instead, he watches Caleb curiously.

“You seem agitated, my King,” Tristan says. “Are your headaches returning?”

Caleb does have a headache, yes, but he’s had that since early this morning and only started feeling this nervous tension a few brief minutes ago.

If only Harper were here, he would demand a massage, and some ofthe pressure in his mind and muscles might give way. Unfortunately, she’s still in the hospital. The doctors still haven’t discovered what’s wrong with her, despite Caleb’s threats to end them personally if they don’t fix her.

Thinking of Harper makes that prickling feeling return to his skin, tenfold. He’s on his feet before he even realizes he’s moved.

“Beta,” Caleb says.

Tristan immediately rises.

Caleb heads to the door and exits, with Tristan in his shadow. The other advisors let out a loud breath as soon as his foot is past the threshold. They must feel relief, thinking his ire pulled elsewhere. They have no idea of the danger they are still in.

After he checks on Harper, he will return to delve deeper and find the one who plans on betraying him. That person will then be tortured slowly before being killed.

More pangs of discomfort crawl through Caleb’s insides, forcing his feet to move faster. Before long, he’s running toward the hospital ward, without really understanding why.

When he reaches the ward, doctors and nurses are swarming, rushing toward Harper’s room.

“What’s happening here?” Caleb growls at one of the nurses. She cowers at once.

“The slave from the arena,” the nurse replies nervously. “Her vitals are dropping. No one knows why…”

“She’s dying?!” Caleb blares.

“Yes, my King,” the nurse says. “I’m sorry, I must assist…”

Caleb steps back and lets the nurse go forward.

“My King,” Tristan says, moving toward Caleb’s side. Caleb follows the length of Tristan’s gaze to where a familiar woman is moving like a salmon upstream away from Harper’s room.

“That’s one of my women in the harem,” Caleb says.

“Nina,” Tristan supplies the name. Caleb doesn’t bother remembering them all. Most of the time, for what he needs his harem for, names are not necessary.

“Have I given her permission to train as a nurse?” Caleb asks, already suspecting the answer.

Sometimes, the more curious, more established members of his harem grow bored with sitting around all day. If they ask him, he sometimes gives them permission to train or observe other areas of his capital. So long as they do not embarrass him, he genuinely does not care what they do to pass the time.

“No,” Tristan says.

“Stop her. Bring her to an interrogation room,” Caleb says.

“At once,” Tristan says and starts forward.

When Nina sees him approach, she pales. All the more suspicious, then.

Anger flares up hot and fast inside Caleb. If she had anything to do with this, Caleb would show her no mercy.

Tristan, moving swiftly, snatches Nina by the arm and immediately drags her away.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Nina shouts. Everyone ignores her.

While the doctors work on Harper, Caleb paces outside of the door to her room.

She must survive this. He’s already threatened to end her pack. Surely she will continue to hold on to ensure that does not happen.

At his growing worry, he scoffs at himself, reminding himself that he only cares because he needs her alive to find his child.

He doesn’t care about her beyond that.

After a few, long, agonizing moments, where Caleb wonders if he’s lost his only lead to his child – as well as the most annoying woman he’s ever met – the sirens and blares finally stop, and one of the doctors steps out of the room.

Seeing Caleb, he approaches him at once.

“With the care we’ve been giving her,” the doctor says, “There is no reason for her health to plummet like this, let alone so quickly.” The doctor’s face tightens, grim. “We have cause, I believe, to suspect her recovery is being sabotaged.”

The image of Nina rushing away from the scene flashes through Caleb’s mind. “How?”

“There’s evidence that the IV has been tampered with. We need to run tests to find out what exactly has been injected

“She’s being poisoned,” Caleb finishes, tired of his doctor double-talk.

Caleb is a man of action. He needs clear concise verbiage so that he can move to action.

“That’s a blunt way of putting it, but yes. Though I don’t have concrete proof yet, that is what I suspect.”

“Can you fix her?” Caleb asks.

“We’re making every effort to,” the doctor says. Caleb respects this man, who lowers his head in reverence to Caleb while still being upfront and honest with him. He is not just saying what he thinks Caleb wants to hear, as so many others do. “It would assist us greatly if the source of that poison were to be stopped… And if we knew the specific kind that’s been used…”

“Leave that to me,” Caleb says, voice dropping dangerously low. “You fix her.” He points at Harper’s room.

“Yes, my King.”

Caleb dismisses him and the doctor returns to Harper’s room.

Knowing what he must do, Caleb pulls out his cell phone and texts Tristan.

Where did you take her?

Ten minutes later, Caleb has descended to the interrogation rooms on the level above the dungeons. Personally, he would have preferred to stuff Nina down into the dank and dark pits rather than these sterile, over-lit boxes, but perhaps that part can come later.

Torture can come later.

Right now, what he needs are answers.

Confirmation. Proof.

Then justice.

Tristan stands outside the room in the hallway. With his arms crossed and his eyes closed, he looks more annoyed than usual. Even when we torture her, he generally seems bored.

He opens his eyes as Caleb approaches. “Should I enter with you?”

“Yes,” Caleb says. “When she gives up the name of the poison, alert the doctors.”

When she does. Not if. There is no if.

Caleb already knows what she’s done.

Tristan nods and opens the door. Caleb steps through first.

Nina sits on a metal chair behind a card table. Spotting Caleb, she stands. “Maaa…-my King!”

She’s nervous. Caleb immediately clocks the way her voice trembles and her hands twitch.

Caleb walks across the room to the far wall and waits for Tristan to close the door, locking her in the cage with his monster.

“You are not going to lie to me,” Caleb says.

“Of course, my King,” Nina replies.

“Good.” Caleb turns to look at her. He allows some of his wolf to break free, flashing red over his eyes and extending his canines. His body starts to surge taller. His hands turn to claws.

He’s careful to keep himself from going full-wolf. He wants to be able to talk.

The effect of his beastly wolf never fails to intimidate.

Nina’s eyes are wide with fear now, as she inches backward away from him.

“Tell me,” Caleb growls. “What kind of poison did you inject into Harper?”

Chapter 36

Blinking my eyes open, I’m once again surprised to find myself still alive. In fact, I almost feel… better?

I lift my limbs, surprised to find that I still can, and it’s so much easier than it was when Nina was putting that needle into my IV tube and –

Fear floods through me at the thought, and I jerk upright.

A man at my bedside quickly steps in, guiding me back down onto the mattress. “Easy,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself further.”

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I recognize the man as the King’s Beta, Tristan. He’s standing at my bedside, frowning down at me as a teacher would a petulant child.

We aren’t alone in the room. An armed guard stands near the door, looking more alert than bored like he’s on the job here. Is he on the job here?

I have no idea the details, but for me to still be alive must mean that some vital things must have happened. Either whatever Nina gave me wasn’t enough to actually kill me, or the doctors were able to intervene in time…

In a rush, I face Tristan and start talking. “Nina put something into my IV. I couldn’t move to stop her, I don’t know what it was, but it -“

“Stop,” Tristan says. “We know all this.

“You… You do?”

Tristan nods. “King Caleb interrogated Nina himself.”

“He did?”

Tristan gives me a flat look. He’s not going to repeat himself, that’s clear.

I try to process the information that I have. If Caleb interrogated her… If he learned the truth…

Then…

“Where is Nina?” I ask.

“Which part?” Tristan asks to clarify.

He doesn’t need to say more than that for me to know that Nina is dead and that she likely faced torture.

Even though she was actively trying to murder me, I take no pleasure in her passing or the brutal nature of it. She might have hated me, but to me, she was from our pack. However misguided this place had made her, she deserved better than to be slain in such a way.

This place continues to be a nightmare when brutal murder stands in the place of justice around here.

“You don’t need to worry about her anymore,” Tristan says. “You only need to concentrate on restoring your health. If not for your own sake, then for that of the King.”

This time the flat look we exchanged is from me to him.

“Yes, I’m sure the King wants me healthy again before he throws me back into the coliseum.”

“You aren’t going back to that place,” Tristan says. “At least not now. You have other priorities.”

Priorities? “What are you talking about?”

“Feel better,” Tristan says. “Then our King will show you.”

I’m not thrilled about being left in the dark on this. For every danger that passes, another seems to be waiting in the wings. Caleb might have eliminated Veronica and Nina, but he remains the greatest threat against me.

Tristan doesn’t wait around for me to probe further. He simply ups and leaves me alone in my hospital bed.

The guard stays, however – watchful. I don’t ask him questions though, knowing he likely has as many answers as I do. Zero.

Instead, I focus on my health. For the next few days, my strength gradually returns to me, and after a full week, I feel well enough to walk around. Though I have no visitors other than the doctors and nurses and the guard, I’m not terribly lonely.

The nurses make small talk when they check on me, which is enough.

This place has taught me that I’d rather be alone than faced with the violent treachery everyone here seems to feel for everyone else.

I’m not part of this wheel of power plays, nor do I want to be. I just want to survive long enough to be allowed to go home.

Then on the eighth day of no visitors, Caleb walks into my room. I’m standing and thankfully dressed. Yesterday, I requested more than my simple hospital gown, which opened in the back. One of the more generous nurses supplied me with a set of scrubs.

Caleb looks now at the loose teal blue top and bottom covering me and frowns. That frown remains as he looks up to my eyes.

After having spent so much time away from the man, I forgot what it’s like to be in his presence. He’s a strong man in muscle bulk and stature, but even beyond that, his presence fills a room so completely that it’s difficult to concentrate on anything else.

And gods, he is handsome.

His eyes are wild, almost feral, dangerous. His features could have been chiseled out of hard rock. His shoulders are wide. His chest is ripped with muscle that bulges even under his carefully tailored clothes.

“I’ve been told you are well enough to walk now,” he says.

“I am,” I say and wobble around a bit to show him. I’m not completely healed yet, but I’m well on my way. I lose my balance sometimes, but if I’m near enough to something, I can walk comfortably, knowing I can catch myself if I fall.

“Good,” Caleb says. “Come with me, then.”

“Leave the hospital?” I ask.

He lifts a brow. “Did you want to stay in this room?”

“No,” I reply.

Without waiting for me, Caleb turns and leaves the room. I hobble along behind him, struggling to keep up.

He makes no accommodations for me, moving at his full pace. Even on my best day, I’d have to scurry to keep up with him. Right now, it seems impossible.

Feeling my stitches pulling, I stop trying to keep up and let myself fall behind.

Glancing behind him, he notices and stops. “Are you trying to escape me?” he growls, displeased.

It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at him. “The only thing I’m trying to escape is having to return to that hospital bed.”

At his glare, I continue, “I can walk, but not that fast. I’ll risk pulling out my stitches.”

Caleb glances down at my still-battered body, hidden behind my scrubs, then up to my face. “How fast can you walk?”

To show him, I move ahead, gradually catching up to his side. Once I do, his frown is even deeper, somehow.

“That is not acceptable,” he says.

I shrug. What can I say?

Caleb looks down at me again. Then, without warning, he scoops me up like a sack of potatoes and hoists me over his shoulder. Immediately, he starts walking again.

“K-King Caleb!” I say, embarrassed. One of his hands sits on the back of my thigh, keeping me steady, but the rest of me dangles over his shoulder. I scramble to hold myself up, pressing my arms against his back.

“I don’t have all day,” he grumbles.

Carrying me like this, he takes me past the hall, then down toward the wing that includes his private chambers.

We do not enter the massive door belonging to him, though. Instead, he takes me to one at the end of the hallway. Once it’s open, we enter into a massive wardrobe with wall-to-wall closets, mirrors on every possible surface, and even mannequins wrapped in fine gowns. Golden chandeliers hang down from the ceiling. Plush carpets cover the floor.

Jewelry cabinets are dotted around, their drawers opened revealing sparkling gemstones within.

Caleb lowers me down to my feet, and I turn in circles, unsure where to put my eyes next.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“As King, I am gifted many things to bestow upon my harem. They all find their way to this place. Then, when a harem member has pleased me, I send them here to collect their reward.”

I freeze a moment, realizing just how many times he’s said harem in that sentence.

If everything in this room is for his harem, what am I doing here?

“Pick something,” he says.

“I couldn’t…”

Ignoring me, he continues. “You will need something to wear. Tomorrow night, we will have a party. There, I will officially announce you as part of my harem.”

Chapter 37

Surely, I’ve misheard. But, no, Caleb spoke very clearly, and he wouldn’t say something like that for the hell of it.

For him to announce that to me, he means it. He genuinely intends to make me part of his harem.

“I don’t understand,” I admit. “Before all this, you sent me to the coliseum… now you want me to be part of your harem?”

As a member of the harem, I would still be a prisoner, but it would be a gilded cage filled with silks and fineries. As Veronica has already proven, the other harem members could be dangerous, but even so, it wasn’t like the certainty of facing wild, hungry animals and knowing I was about to die.

“Did you wish to refuse?” Caleb asks. Where brightness sparked in his voice before, now he seemed annoyed. Likely he expected me to be ecstatic by this new outcome. Perhaps, to most, becoming a harem member might even be a great honor.

After all, so many women are sent to him regularly to honor him. Being accepted into the harem is the ultimate goal. Rejection is considered a failure.

But that’s not the kind of life I want for myself. I don’t care how good at sex he is, I have my own aspirations in life than lying on my back with my legs spread open all the time.

Does he not understand that the only thing that would truly please me is my freedom?

He scoffs at my hesitation. “Look around. See the finery with your own eyes. See all that I have to offer you.”

I suppose I don’t have a choice in the matter. If Caleb wants me in his harem, that’s where I’ll be. And I guess anything is better than the coliseum, or the dungeon.

Or death.

Listening to his command, I turn toward the closets and pull them open. Inside are thousands of the most luxurious, expensive, elaborate dresses I have ever seen in my life. Fabrics, silks, satins, and lace in every color. Gemstones, diamonds, glitter. Everything sparkles, I’m not sure where to place my gaze.

Feeling overwhelmed, I stumble back slightly straight into a hard wall of a chest behind me. I didn’t realize Caleb had gotten so close.

“See anything you like?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in my ear.

“There’s so many, I don’t even know where to start,” I admit.

Caleb hums. Then, he places his hands on my hips. As my back is to him, I only really see his fingers as they curl possessively around my hipbone.

“You should start by taking this off.” He tucks his hands under the front of my shirt, then slowly starts lifting it up and up. Raising my arms, I allow him to lift the scrub top up and over my shoulders before he tosses it onto the floor.

In the hospital, I didn’t have need for a bra, so I’m not wearing one now.

Caleb immediately cups his hands over my bare breasts, massaging gently.

My eyelids fluttering, and I lean back further against his chest, supporting myself against his torso while he plucks and teases my nipples.

“Your pants, next,” he says, his voice even lower than before.

I start to reach my hands up to my waist, but he moves quicker, releasing my breasts to grab the waistband of my hands. He starts to lower it. When the pants are at my thighs, he leans back a moment, as if finally realizing I’m also not wearing any panties.

The panties I wore in the coliseum were likely destroyed, and even after being given scrubs, I was never given any replacement underwear.

Caleb turns me around to face him. Then, surprising me, he drops to his knees. I hold onto his shoulders as he continues to tug the pants down. When they are at my ankles, he touches one of my feet, and then the other, for me to lift and step through.

Once the pants are free, Caleb tosses those away. On his knees, he lets his eyes drag up and up my body. I feel the weight of his gaze like a caress over my skin.

His hands follow the path of my gaze, tracing up from my ankles to my knees, then dip between my thighs. His forefinger rubs along my entrance, just as his thumb brushes my clit.

I gasped as I toppled forward, putting more weight on his shoulders.

“Lay down,” he says. “Let me see you.”

Slowly, I try to ease myself down. It goes smoother once he moves his hands to my hips and carries a lot of the weight.

He lowers me down onto one of the plush rugs. My legs spread out on either side of him on his knees.

I expect immediate attention to my pussy, so it surprises me when he inspects my healing wounds first. The heat remains in his eyes even as his expression tightens.

I don’t like that look on his face, the way he seems pulled away from this moment and back to what happened. If I follow him there, then I will never be able to relax fully for what I’m certain is about to happen after this moment.

If Caleb gets angry, he’ll get rough.

Sex is coming either way.

I want him to be gentle and soft so that I can feel pleasure too.

“Perhaps we should start with panties,” I say, trying to drag him back to this moment. “Should I wear lace?”

He glances down at my pussy. I can only imagine what he sees. It must be glistening, wet for him. I can’t help myself, with the promises this position brings. My body reacts on its own.

“You’ll have no need for panties,” Caleb growls. “They’ll only be ruined anyway.”

“Oh?” I can see my plan is working, so I play dumb.

He returns his fingers back to my folds and starts to slide two inside

Squeezing my eyes shut, I throw my head back, enjoying the stretch.

“I will have you ready and wet for me, just like this, at my command, do you understand?” he says. With his free hand, he unbuttons his pants and slides down the zipper. His dick immediately springs free, already rock hard. “Panties will only get in the way of what’s mine.”

He slides his fingers out, then lines himself up with my entrance.

I claw at the plush carpet, bracing myself for the plunge of his dick inside of me. Once he gets to this state, he’s usually like an animal, taking and taking without care of me. It’s sheer luck that I end up enjoying it.

This time, however, strangely, he slides in slowly, as if giving my tired, wounded body time to adjust.

It’s odd enough for me to peek my eyes open just enough to watch him through my eyelashes. His focus is entirely on my face. Is he watching for any signs of discomfort?

Just to test, I wince. He immediately stops.

What the hell?

When I relax my face again, he continues forward. This time he makes it all the way to the hilt.

“You’re going to live on my dick,” he threatens. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, so often, my dick is all you are going to be able to think about.”

Despite his crass words, when he starts to move, he makes gentle rocking motions. He holds up my hips, spreads my thighs, and does all the work.

His eyes stay on my face.

“You are such a slut of my dick already,” Caleb says, the words rumbly and low in his throat. “We should have started like this. Soon, you’ll be so drunk for my cock, you’ll tell me whatever I want just so you can get fucked again.”

His ministrations might be slow and gentle, but they are also

deliberate. It’s bliss-filled torture as he aims and hits my G-spot with every forward motion.

“My slut. My whore,” he growls, all while treating me like someone fragile.

Someone special.

Chapter 38

Caleb brings me straight over the edge of bliss, as he so often, so expertly does. All the while, his words remain crass and ugly, but his motions are gentle and considerate. I only ever feel a limited amount of pain.

He, too, brings himself to completion and then lowers my ass back down to the carpet before collapsing down beside me. Sweat clings delightfully to his forehead. I wish I could see the rest of him, but he’s still wearing all of his clothes.

For a long moment, neither of us says anything. We just sit in silence. Then, as if nothing happened, Caleb pushes himself up to his feet, tucks himself away, and disappears into one of the closest.

He returns with a blue velvet dress with a plunging neckline and a high slit up the leg.

It’s beautiful.

“This one will fit you without many alterations,” he says.

I can’t imagine how he can be so confident, but then… he has spent the past hour exploring every inch of my body. I guess if anyone would know, other than me, it would be him.

He hands the dress on a rack outside of the closet, then returns inside. This time he comes out with a much less formal dress that would come to my mid-thigh and tie in the front like a robe. He brings this one straight to me.

Slowly, I push myself to sit and then gradually, using a nearby chair, come to stand. Caleb hands me the dress and I marvel at the softness of the fabric. Quickly, I wrap it around myself.

It fits perfectly and is comfortable too.

“Wear that for now,” he says.

With the dress decided Caleb starts for the door. “Come with me.” Once he’s there, he stops and turns back to look at me, mischief in his eyes. “Or do you need me to hold you again?”

Heat rushes to my face. I give him an aggressive headshake and hurry toward him.

He smirks as I step past him into the hallway. There, I’m not sure where to go and wait for him.

When he walks past me, I’m surprised to find that he’s walking towards his room. The entire wing is dedicated to the harem. Theoretically, if he meant to show me my own room, he would lead me deeper into the wing and not further out of it.

Unless that’s not what he intends at all.

At the door nearest his own, he stops. “This will be your room.”

My eyes go wide. This room surely is intended for his favorite?

Glancing at my face, he grumbles out, “I know you haven’t given up on your escape attempts. I have no intention of placing you somewhere where I cannot keep a close eye on you.”

Okay. That might be fair.

Even now, I’m checking the windows and doors and thinking of possible escape attempts. Nina’s information set me up for failure. I’ll be smarter next time. I won’t trust anyone but myself.

He opens the door and steps inside. Immediately, I’m overwhelmed by the sheer lavishness of the space. This room puts both my attic space and my previous room in the bowels of the capital to shame. Vaulted ceilings. A four-post bed with a fluttering drape over top. Silky sheets. Beautiful wood furniture.

My eyes go so wide I’m certain they’ll fall right out of my head.

“This room…” It’s beautiful.

Oil paintings cover the walls, depicting beautiful sceneries I’ve never seen before. Fields of purple flowers. Mountains covered in drifting snow. A small woodland cabin with billows of smoke.

Caleb watches my reaction with a bemused reaction.

“I’m glad you approve,” he says. Then he turns toward the door. “Handmaiden!”

At once, a timid-looking young woman appeared at the door.

“This,” Caleb says, “will be your personal assistant. She will help prepare you for your new role.”

The handmaiden bows deeply to the King and then to me. It feels unnerving, to go from being a slave to suddenly having someone treat me like I’m someone important.

I really don’t like it. “What is your name?” I ask her.

Her face crumples in confusion. She looks up at me, then over to Caleb, and back again.

“My lady?”

“Oh, gods, don’t call me that,” I say. “Please call me Harper.”

“I…” The poor woman’s eyes go to Caleb again.

Caleb shrugs. To me, he says, “This is your servant, you may treat her however you wish.”

“Please,” I say once more to the woman. “Call me Harper. I insist.”

“Yes… Harper…” She still sounds nervous about it.

“And your name?” I ask.”

Bethany,” she replies.

“Bethany. A fine name,” I tell her.

Bethany glances up at me, her eyes suddenly alight. Has she… never received a compliment before?

“I have other duties,” Caleb says. His eyes fall onto me, looking me over heatedly. Then, with seeming hesitation, he turns and walks out of the room.

Female voices immediately sound from the hallway.

“Oh, hello, my King…”

“An absolute pleasure to see you, King Caleb…”

“Do you like my new panties, my King?”

Each voice is flirtier than the last. It irritates me, the fakeness of it, but I try to keep those opinions to myself. I don’t know Bethany well enough by far to let my obvious annoyance show on my face.

Caleb, for his part, seems to entirely ignore the women in the hallway. His strong, proud footsteps disappear down the hallway.

As soon as they were gone, the other women appeared in the doorway, peering in at us.

“So… you are the new one…” says one of the women.

“Aren’t you that slave?” says another.

“Must be,” says a third. “They gave her the worst handmaiden in the capital. What’s the deal, Bethany? Last I heard, you were headed for the coliseum for your incompetence.”

Bethany lowers her chin to her chest, ashamed.

It strikes something unpleasant inside of me. These girls… they remind me of Leah. Before I was never in a position to stand up for myself or any of the people around me. Now, however, I have been elevated.

Bethany is my handmaiden. That makes it not just my right, but my duty to defend her.

With that confidence filling me, I take a strong step forward and say, “I’m going to need you to stop talking about my handmaiden that way.”

“Like handmaiden, like a mistress, they say,” says the first woman with a sing-song voice.

“Good point,” says the second. “Didn’t you come from the arena? What was your name again? Harlot?”

That’s rich, coming from someone else in the harem. We are all mistresses to our King, at his whims whenever he wants us. For them to call me out like they are somehow better is hypocrisy at its finest.

“My name is Harper,” I say.

The first woman hums. “Well, don’t get comfortable, Harlot. Our King will see the flaws in you soon enough, and then you’ll be right back where you came from.”

I’m sure she means the arena, but when I hear ‘where you came from, I think of my pack. That’s where I want to be. I never asked for this. Being a member of the harem is no great honor for me.

The second woman smirks. Playing off the words of the first, she says snidely, “That is if Bethany doesn’t kill you first.”

Chapter 39

I look at Bethany, whose chin is down to her chest, her face pale white and from what I can see, completely miserable.

An accusation of murder is a serious one. Perhaps not so much around here, where whippings and poison seem to be par for the course. But back home where I’m from, people generally don’t go around so flippantly with their hatred and murderous intent.

Leah might hate me and might punish me to the extremes sometimes, but I never feared for my life at my homestead. To her and my parents, I remained a valuable servant, despite the shame I brought to the household.

Here, within these walls, I’ve already been nearly killed so many times that I’m starting to lose track. Here, my life doesn’t feel like my own. The King owes my person now, at least my body. My heart, mind, and spirit remain my own.

But it is those three things – my heart, mind, and spirit – that these other harem members find so intimidating. If I act like a wilting flower who can be intimidated by their words and actions, then they’d likely grow bored from pushing me around.

The King would probably grow bored with me as well.

Yet I can’t bring myself to pretend that I am anyone but who I am. This person that I am has many strengths but just as many flaws.

But they all make me, me.

Having already been exposed to the mind games of Veronica and Nina, and the true threat of death and danger in the coliseum, these verbal antics of these jealous harem members fall flat in comparison.

And to accuse Bethany of murder? Perhaps it is true, perhaps not. But if the King thought she would kill me, she wouldn’t be in this room with me right now.

Caleb has gone to great extents to teach me lessons, but he’s gone further to keep me alive.

He wouldn’t put me in the room with a death snare like the girls are suggesting, no matter how much they want it to be true.

“Do the members of the harem not have other business to attend to?” I ask them. Crossing my arms, I come off as anything but kind. They will soon learn that I will not allow them to use me in their games of manipulation or otherwise. “Or is it simply because you three have lost so much favor with the king that he allows you to wander bored like this?”

“Who has lost favor?” snaps one of the women.

The middle woman rolls her eyes. “We all know he didn’t call on you last month.”

“He didn’t call on you either,” roars the first woman.

“Girls,” says the third, trying to act as some kind of median, but no one is listening to her.

Walking to the entryway, I place my hand on the doorknob.

“This is all fascinating. Truly,” I say. That’s a hard lie. I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than hear these three debate the last time the King showed up to bang them. “But my handmaiden and I have much to attend to before tomorrow night.”

They look at me like they want to say something. Before they can, I slam closed the door.

When I face the room again, Bethany watches me with a wide-eyed expression. She’s still pale, but not as death-white as before. Now, at least, she doesn’t seem like she’s going to faint.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” I say, returning to Bethany’s side.

Closer to the door, I can still hear the three women harping behind it. They are furious with my actions and taking it out on each other. Good, let them bite and tear at each other’s necks.

Honestly, I feel liberated. Maybe in the past, their bullish words and tactics might have led me to retreat into myself. But after facing feral gladiators, hungry lions, and the rage of the King himself, I’m not going to be put off by the attitudes of three jealous harem members.

Away from the door now, at Bethany’s side, I can’t hear them chattering anymore. It’s as good as pretending they are no longer there.

“Do you want to tell me what they were talking about?” I ask.

“No,” Bethany says.

“Is it something I ought to know?” I ask.

Bethany lowers her head again. As I debate whether to continue to probe or to let it go, Bethany speaks for herself. “My last mistress died rather horribly. I had nothing to do with it, but as I was the only one with her at the time, I have caught the blame among the other harem members.”

“How did she die?” I ask.

“She was stung by a bee. Maybe it was my fault, to an extent. I was the one who left wildflowers on the table, and I was the one who opened the window. But I had no idea she was so allergic.” Bethany quietly shakes her head. “They think I’m responsible, but truly, I liked her. She was a woman of no consequence. We kept mostly to ourselves. I’m not sure the King ever visited her…”

Now that does seem like a peaceful existence. The glamours of the palace life, without the expectations. Not that being here at all is a boon. I’d rather be somewhere else entirely. But if I had to be here, I’d rather be unnoticed.

Since my arrival… No, even before.

Since the royal messenger showed up at the door, I’ve had a big target painted on my back. It’s still there, bright and bold as ever.

“I’m sorry that happened to her,” I say. “And to you.”

Bethany looks up at me in bewilderment once more, like she can’t believe I just said that. With the regular type of people around here, I guess I’m not surprised that kindness would be in limited supply.

Glancing away, I suppose I better let Bethany get to the point of what she’s doing here.

“You don’t need to tell me more,” I say, not that there’s more to say. “At least, not about that. Instead, why don’t we focus on our purpose, okay? You were to prepare me for my new duties as a harem member.”

“Right,” Bethany says. Her confused expression doesn’t totally clear, though it does sink back for a little bit, as determination and purpose come forward. “As a harem member, your purpose is mainly two-fold, though there are occasionally other duties delivered at the King’s whim.”

“Of course,” I say. There’s no real telling what those could be, but I imagine more massages. I just hope for no torture or being sent back to the dungeon or pit.

“The first duty that you must always perform,” Bethany says. “You must be ever ready for the King to request you for carnal duties.”

By carnal duties, she undoubtedly means sex.

That’s the duty that I have been anticipating. It’s no secret that the King is virile. And with how slutty everyone dresses, it makes sense things would often lead one way to another.

I’m not the biggest fan of not having a choice in the matter. But, then again, that’s been the same since the moment I arrived.

When the King wants me, he has me. Being a member of the harem or not, that doesn’t seem to matter.

“What’s the second purpose?” I ask.

“The King’s harem is a direct representation of him and his power,” Bethany says. “You must appear compliant to his will at all times. If you show even the slightest reluctance of the King’s commands, particularly in front of others, including his honored guests, then you embarrass the King himself.”

“What happens when someone embarrasses the King?” At this point, I’m almost afraid to ask.

Bethany’s face tightens into a grimace. “They die.”

Chapter 40

By now, I’ve been threatened with death so much, that it shouldn’t still bother me. But I suppose I don’t actually want to die, so that keeps me from being too blasé about it.

I’ve seen with my own eyes enough to know how dangerous this place is. Just because the King hasn’t carried out his threats to kill me does not mean that he never will.

Therefore, Bethany’s words stay with me long after our briefing has concluded and she leaves me to see to dinner.

The longer they sit with me, the more they fester. Fear that I hate exists inside of me and grows and grows.

Standing against any of the king’s commands could lead to my death. Is that why he’s made me one of his harem? I’ve been my own person up until this moment, both unable and unwilling to accommodate him in his request for the location of our non-existent child.

But, no. That can’t be. This leads all around in a circle. If he kills me, whatever secrets he thinks I have will theoretically die with me. So long as he thinks I have secrets, he won’t kill me.

Then why make me part of his harem?

I’m so terribly confused and more worried than I care to admit.

It all comes to a head when King Caleb himself comes through my door without knocking.

As King, he has that right. But it’s annoying as hell and startles the heck out of me.

If he notices my agitation or surprise, he doesn’t say a word about it either. He doesn’t even really look at me. He just saunters across the room like he owns the place – which, I guess, he does.

When he nears the bed, he unbuttons his kingly tunic and lets it slide to the floor. Then, he tears off his undershirt and casts it aside.

Without meaning to, my focus grazes over the walls of muscle in his back, the dip of his spine, the stretch of his shoulders.

I take in everything, right before he flops forward, face first onto my bed.

The bed I haven’t even slept in yet. I guess, by the rules, that belongs to him too.

I have more than a mind to ask him what the hell he wants, but I have no way of doing so without breaking the rules so I keep my mouth shut for now.

Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long.

“Slave,” he says, addressing me, I suppose. “Massage. Now.”

Okay. That’s a command that’s easy enough to follow since I’ve been giving him a massage practically every day, with the exception of when I was in the pit and when I was being poisoned.

Moving away from the wall where I’ve been resting, I walk farther into the room and come to the side of the bed.

Leaning over him, I reach my fingers into his hair. Immediately, he snatches my wrist in a tight grasp.

“Not a scalp massage,” he snaps. “Do you think I took my shirt off for my health? A back massage this time.”

Back massages were much more difficult and needed a lot more leverage. For me to give him the kind of relaxing massage he’s looking for, I need to be over him more. I doubt, if I ask, that he will move closer toward the edge of the bed.

But I can barely press into any muscle from this angle.

If he gets a lukewarm massage, he’s likely to complain about it. Is that an embarrassment?

Tired of my spinning thoughts, I mutter, “Fuck it,” and crawl onto the bed. Swinging one of my thighs on the other side of his, I push up onto my knees and press down in earnest.

He makes a guttural sound, one that I’ve heard before in the throes of passion. This feels pleasurable to him, then. Good. Maybe I can relax him and please him at once. If he’s pleased sexually, he might leave me alone.

The massage continues, and I do my very best, eager to push him over the edge. Yet as hard as I push, as slow as my ministrations, I never receive more than the occasional grunt or groan.

Then, suddenly, Caleb starts to turn, underneath me.

At once, I try to move my leg, but he moves faster. In a flash, he’s on his back with me sitting on his lap. His hands are on my hips, keeping me right where I am.

Under my ass, Caleb’s dick is fully swollen, tenting his pants and bucking at me in earnest.

“Massage my chest now,” Caleb says.

Chest massages are not as common. I’ve never given one before.

But I take what I know and try to apply it here, pressing into any tense muscle I feel, trying to relieve it.

After I’ve touched his pecks, he says, “Lower.”

I start on his abs. I’m there for only a moment or two, when he again commands, “Lower.”

I move down to his stomach.

“Lower,” he growls.

His navel.

His hooded gaze meets mine. I’ve seen this look from him before. There’s a fire burning there, unquenchable. Only a thorough round or three of sex will satisfy him now.

“Lower, slave,” he commands.

I inch down my hips, bringing my ass to his thighs. With his waistband free, I pop open the series of buttons keeping his dick contained. Once I do, it immediately springs free, in all of its impressive, hard length and girth…

“Touch it,” he commands.

At his order, I wrap my hands around his dick. Sensing what he wants next, I start to move. Up and down, slowly at first. When he doesn’t correct me, I grow bolder, adding speed.

“Good,” he rumbles. “Stop and I’ll kill you.”

A pang of fear flashes through me, but at the same time, I want to roll my eyes. He’d kill me over a hand job? After everything else?

Whatever.

Undeterred I continue to move. Eventually, he starts to buck up into my movements. When his thrusts become more erratic, I pick up speed, sensing his end.

Yet as I do so, I grow more and more weary. I’m still exhausted from the poisoning, and then from the other exertions of the day.

That I’m upright at all is a miracle. I feel like I could fall asleep at any moment.

If I can finish off Caleb quickly, he might let me get some rest. Just a few more strokes should do it…

Instead, he sits upright, grabs me by the shoulders, and flips our positions, pushing me down onto the bed.

The minute my head touches the pillow, I’m out like a light.

Caleb freezes as Harper goes slack. What is the meaning of this?

He checks her pulse. She’s alive? Why in the world would she…?

Suddenly, she takes a sharp inhale of breath. Then, slowly, it comes back out of her as a gentle snore.

She’s… asleep?

Whatever Caleb was feeling before worry, trepidation? It’s long gone now. In its place, he feels only rage.

How dare this woman fall asleep while he is about to bring her the ultimate pleasure?!

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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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