Chapter Seventeen
Caleb
As much as I’d relish the idea of having her on a jizz only diet, I don’t see that keeping her alive. That’s why the next week was spent experimenting with Jay’s palate. I asked the kitchen staff to cook a meal for Jay with specific instructions.
Her stomach’s fallen into a schedule, and her appetite’s improved.
She’s thickening out, and all signs point in the right direction.
She’s so particular about what she eats.
Asking would only hint I care, so I resort to keeping track on my own.
So far, I haven’t found a meat she likes, but she’ll eat eggs.
Rather than risk her not eating, it’s easier to offer variations and slip in something new to see if she takes to it.
The kitchen hands me a plate with bacon, sausage, eggs and French toast. Although it looks delicious, it is not what I asked for.
“Who is this for?”
“Food for the prisoner, sir,” Chef Burns answers.
I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s all wrong. “She can’t have this. She won’t eat bacon. Please make her eggs on toast with avocado and some cherry red tomatoes. Tomorrow we can try to change it up.”
Chef Burns sighs when he takes the plate back down from the hot shelf. He mutters something. If I weren’t standing here, he’d be slamming pots and pans and cursing my name. He doesn’t understand why I’m making him go through this for a prisoner, but his job is to follow orders, not question them.
Contrary to what Chef Burns might think, I have a goal we’re working toward. I’m using each meal to learn everything about what she is willing to eat. But today, I’m sticking to what I know she likes because yesterday’s meal was poorly received.
If Jay were a brat about it, I wouldn’t bother. But she always thanked me for her meals. If I returned to find she hadn’t eaten anything, I’d ask, “Were you not hungry?”
She’d just shake her head and say she wasn’t. Which was a lie because her stomach growls as she says it, betraying her.
My wolf perks his ears, and I quickly change my tune. Er, so I can torture her, of course.
Could’ve fooled me, my wolf says sarcastically.
Don’t start with me.
You want her, he says to me. Just admit it.
I don’t want her, want her. It’s just the mate bond pulling me. Besides, we can’t have her.
If she weren’t a prisoner, I’d bring her a whole spread of foods to find out what she’ll eat. It’d be much easier than this, but it would signal special treatment, and I can’t avoid raising suspicion.
A powerful presence interrupts my train of thought, and my blood runs cold.
King Dax leans against the doorframe with his arms and feet crossed.
“Your Majesty.” I bow.
After I helped him track Alaina, the king’s scowl landed on me less and less frequently over the following months. But I’m not stupid enough to interpret us as friends. To him, I’m still the man who took his mate’s virginity—I’d hate me, too.
“Mutt,” he greets me.
“I wasn’t informed of your arrival,” I say.
Knowing him, he probably planned it that way. I am sure he would love to catch me off guard in hopes I am screwing up, so he could reprimand me.
“You were informed I would arrive. If you chose not to prepare, that’s on you. Now, did I just hear you ask your chef to make something your prisoner will like?”
I gulp.
“I know this pack isn’t used to having prisoners . . .” He wipes a finger on a shelf beside him, inspects the dust and frowns his disapproval. “But you should know, typically, we don’t take food orders from them.”
The kitchen staff asked the same question, which is why I’m prepared to respond. “You do if you want them to stay alive,” I reply.
“Alive?” King Dax scrunches his nose and parrots the word like he doesn’t understand. “What fun is that?”
Of course the king of torture wouldn’t understand such a concept.
“I need information from her. It would be pretty hard to extract it from her if she’s dead.”
“Extract” was a word Dax did understand. I regret saying it when a predatorial grin emerges on his face. I roll out my neck to ease the tension stemming from my wolf’s urge to protect.
She is not worth dying over.
Take that back. My wolf shifts his protective demeanor to one of aggression toward me.
I want to argue, but this is not the time.
“What kind of information?”
“Information pertaining to the death of my father.”
When I provided this intel to my staff, out of respect for my late father, they didn’t pry. Unlike the king, who, judging by the grin plastered to his face like the Grinch, I’ve only enticed him further.
“So you’re seeking revenge? I’m intrigued. What kind of methods have you implemented? Physical, mental, psychological? Ooh, ooh! Medieval?” He grins, wiggling his brows.
Even his body language changes from closed to open. He is invested in her, and it terrifies me.
“Well, I stabbed her. So, aside from physical, my methods have mainly been psychological.”
Which is true. Burning her photo broke something in her.
“You know . . .” The king stretches, then makes the same sound I make after taking a sip of a beer. “Ah. I had a long run getting here. Come on.” He nods in the direction of the dungeon. “I’ll show you how to draw out pain as long as possible.” He pivots in the direction of the dungeon.
I panic. “No!”
A dominant aura emits from him in strong waves, and my wolf instantly bares its neck to submit to our hybrid king.
Shit.
At six-foot five and solid muscle, I’m big. But at six-foot seven, just as built, he towers over me as he steps closer.
With glowing hybrid-maroon eyes, he parrots my reactive statement, ensuring he heard me correctly. “No?”
I backpedal. Hard. “No . . . that . . . won’t be necessary.”
This king is reading me like a book.
He narrows his eyes. “You are protecting her . . . Why?”
Anddd this is why the people fear their king. There is no lying to him. He’ll sniff out the truth. There’s no running, no hiding, and no pivoting from the conversation, which is why I don’t skirt around the topic. “She’s . . . my mate.”
“A mutt fated to a mutt.” He laughs. “How fitting. Who else knows?”
“Just you.”
He grins. “For now.”
Even if he were without his powers, he’s still fearsome.
His torturous and sadistic ways tow the fine line of a psychopath.
He loves a good weakness. More so than that, he will feed off the pain that comes from using it against me.
She’s my mate so of course he’ll suspect interest, but I can’t let him think I care about her.
Because it doesn’t. I remind myself that because of this, there’s nothing to worry about and talk myself through it.
Okay, stay calm. Show no reaction.
Beneath the surface, my wolf is freaking out. I refrain from begging but barely. “As a friend of the queen, I’m asking you not to.”
He raises an eyebrow, likely shocked by the audacity. “And as the man you tried to take the queen from, your request is denied,” the king counters, turning to leave.
How about the man who paused searching for their own mate to help you find yours?” I shout after him.
He stops in his tracks. His body straightens, and I don’t think I realized before that he fills a doorframe.
“The day my father was killed, was the same day I scented my mate. You wanna know how? Because she killed him.”
He turns around but remains silent, so I could continue.
“And for that, I can’t be with her. But I also can’t stand to be without her. At least for right now.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“I need to find a chosen mate. And then I’m going to kill her.”
“Your pack needs a strong leader. If you are to take over, you have a duty as their alpha to ensure they receive that.” By duty, I know he means that I should mate Jay.
“I plan to match with someone just as strong. One with powers,” I say.
“There is no stronger bond than one created by the Goddess herself, you know that. It doesn’t matter the powers one yields.
Your power is invaluable but not one of strength.
You will not reach your full potential without your fated mate.
As future alpha of Bloodhound, that is your job.
As your king, I need to ensure the packs and clans under my rule are as strong as possible.
Now that you’ve found her . . . As your king, I can’t let you defy what is divinely meant to be. ”
“You seem to forget you owe me a favor.”
I immediately regret my tone.
“Watch how you speak to your king,” he warns, “or did you forget what happened the last time you crossed me?”
How could I forget? He beat me to a pulp for trying to mate with his queen.
Wolves have naturally quick healing abilities, but I still have scars he couldn’t heal.
It’s quite literally beaten into my memory.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” I take a deep breath.
“I’m ready to cash that in,” I say calmly and confidently.
“Are you, now? And what might the little mutt want, hm?” The king sneers, patronizing me like a pup.
“I don’t want anyone finding out. And I want to take a mate of my choosing,” I propose.
“I said I owed you one,” he reminds me.
But I need both, so I reason with him. “Come on, you know I can’t have one without the other. If anyone finds out I’ve found my fated, they’ll rise in uproar and demand I mate with her. If they find out who she is, they’ll turn against me. An alpha mated to a rogue? Think about it.”
The king contemplates it, bobbing his head back and forth. “You make a good point. There might be hope for you after all. Might.” He sighs. “Alright, mutt. You’ve got a deal. You can choose your mate.”
I’m speechless. Making a deal with the devil wasn’t on my list of things to do, and I have every reason to be skeptical. I don’t know what sparked him to be so . . . reasonable. “What’s your angle?”
He smirks and pats me hard on the back as he passes by me. “Are you surprised I’m so fair?” He laughs deeply.
The sound sends chills down my spine—the laugh of an evil genius.
He’s up to something, and I don’t know what yet. But for now, I won’t question a good thing. I’ll take any win I can get with him here.
“Where is she now?”