Chapter Twenty-Six
Jay
Ithink I’m in trouble.
I scurried back to Caleb’s room, and I don’t think it is a coincidence that Tyler is now waiting for me in the hall.
I crack open the door a little more, allowing for little more than just my head to poke through. I look around. “Yes . . . ?”
“Caleb wants to see you in the study,” Tyler says.
“For what?”
“You’re not really in a position to ask questions, are you? If he requests an audience with you, you go.”
I ignore his suggestion under the pretense that he knows I can beat him up if needed and ask another question. “Can you at least tell me what it’s about?”
“No.”
“No you can’t? Or no you won’t?”
“Won’t.” He shrugs.
I study him, narrowing my eyes. I’m all too familiar with defensiveness. Caleb didn’t share what he wants to talk to me about, and Tyler is irritated.
Someone doesn’t like not being in the inner circle.
I smile. “Can’t. Got it.” I shut the door and walk ahead of him, stopping down the hall and turning to face him. “If you don’t mind showing me the way, that would really help.”
He growls, and I don’t pay any mind to it. Because ultimately, what choice does he have? His boss is waiting.
We walk down the corridor and round the stairs. Once descended, we make an immediate right and are standing in front of a walnut door. Tyler knocks.
“Come in,” Caleb says from the other side.
Tyler opens the door with a soft click. An academia-designed office with a thick, walnut executive style desk, a brown leather chair, with evergreen walls and wood molding comes into view.
Two built-in bookshelves with cabinets on the bottom line the wall behind the desk chair.
Centered between above the cabinet hangs their crest with a hunting dog.
Antiquarian books, illuminated by sconces, fill the shelves.
The fireplace on the wall adjacent to it is unlit, but the matching leather sofa and recliner cage it in.
Wow.
The room is absolutely stunning.
But I can only imagine with the dust on the books that this room doesn’t get the love or use it should.
I’d spend forever in here.
Unsurprisingly, Caleb doesn’t give this room the respect it deserves. He’s propping his feet—with his shoes—on the beautiful desk, fiddling with a bow.
“I’ve brought you Jay, as you asked,” Tyler says.
“Thank you, Tyler. That is all. You may go.”
Tyler hesitates and shifts awkwardly. When he doesn’t leave, Caleb says, “What? Do you want a treat?” Caleb asks rhetorically. “Out.”
“Yes sir,” Tyler says reluctantly.
The large door latches behind me, echoing throughout the room. “You . . . wanted to see me?”
“Yes . . .” Caleb holds the bow up to the light, inspecting it with one eye, then rests it on his lap again to wipe another spot. “I know you left my room.”
Crap. “You do?”
“You should know you don’t hide very well. That plant didn’t have a prayer against your curves.”
“Are you mad?” I ask, biting my bottom lip.
“No.”
I pause, digesting his words. “You aren’t?”
This feels like a trap.
He shakes his head. “I made a bad call. I should’ve known that an outside pet can’t acclimate to the inside so easily.”
This is definitely a trap. Caleb admitting he’s wrong? Impossible.
Although the way he puts it is insulting, I agree with him. I go stir crazy indoors without anything to do.
“The king mentioned he would like to rehabilitate you. There are plans in the works for you to go stay with Jemma.”
“Okay, a few things, but I’ll start with, what is a Jemma?”
“Jemma is a who, not a what. Jemma raised the queen, herself an orphan and, in the past, has rehabilitated several members of this pack.”
“Got it. And . . . what will I be doing? When is this happening? And what will I do until then?”
He gently places the bow on the desk. “Knowing Jemma, she will want your help with cooking, cleaning, gardening, going to church . . . whatever she asks of you, you’ll do. Am I clear?”
“Yeah, sure. No problem,” I say, a little more eagerly than I would like.
But thinking of doing anything other than waiting for my death at Caleb’s hands is enticing.
Caleb glares at me, like he’s waiting for me to say something else. Then I realize the response I just gave is not the one he expects.
“Oh. I mean—yes, Master.” I bat my eyes.
“Good girl,” he says.
My wolf wags her tail, and I even stop a grin from forming.
I shake my head, snapping out of it.
“The king would like you to join him with training the pack to fight.”
I furrow my brow and jerk my head back at the news. I didn’t think the king was serious, or that he’d follow through on it. Because who would want a rogue, an outsider, to have access to their least-trained and therefore, the most vulnerable?
“They hate me. Why would they listen to me?”
“Because the king, and I say so.”
I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, unconvinced.
“I know. It’s a terrible idea, but what can I say? Dax is the king. What he says goes,” Caleb says.
“Actually,” I pause, “it’s kind of genius.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, you would think that. I’m sure you’d love access to the least-trained pack members with special permission to fight them.”
“Or . . .” I ignore what he’s implying and shuffle closer to the desk. “The king recognizes he has access to the very enemy they’d be up against—one who could teach them a thing or two.”
Caleb bites the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. While he’s deep in thought, I have an urge to fill the awkward silence. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Hm?” He’s pulled from his thoughts with my question. “What’re you talking about?”
“Earlier, when you saw me. I was breaking your rule so why didn’t you say anything?”
“Oh. I had other things on my mind,” he sighs heavier than usual.
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. Then I cross and uncross my arms, trying to find a comfortable position. “Are you okay?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” I respond, finally settling on crossing my arms.
My body language speaks for itself. Closed off. Detached.
I hold my stare even as he narrows his eyes at me.
He breaks first. “I’ve just . . . got a lot on my mind, is all.”
His eyes drift to the bow, rubbing it. Staring off into space again.
“What’s that?”
“What? Oh, this? This is—uh . . .” He sighs and with that sigh, a wall comes down through the tough facade he was carefully keeping. “It was the last birthday present from my parents. My dad used to take me to go hunting with him all the time and . . .” He scans it, admiring it. “It’s stupid.”
“It . . . doesn’t seem stupid.” I walk closer to him.
He peers up at me, and his eyes flash gold. When they return to their normal blue, they’ve softened, and I don’t hate the way he’s looking at me. In fact, if he weren’t my warden, I might actually get lost in his eyes.
I wish I could know what he’s thinking.
Caleb shakes his head, clearing his mind.
I clear my throat. “So . . . uh—” I look around the room. “Was this your dad’s office?”
“You mean the man you killed? Yep.”
There it is—the reminder I needed as to why I will never have him. I’m thankful my back is facing him when he stabs me with his words, so I can wince in private.
I walk slowly toward the books and run my fingertips along the vintage texts. I hum appreciatively. “He had a beautiful collection.”
“They weren’t his. They’re mine. It drove me crazy to always see his shelves so bare so I put mine up.”
Out loud, I list the incredible authors, and their classic tellings displayed proudly on the shelf. Some I’ve had the pleasure of reading, others I’ve only dreamed of. My finger hovers over volumes I’ve been dying to get my hands on. “You read philosophy?”
He clears his throat. “Those are new.”
Well, that explains the lack of dust.
I place my hands on my hips, cranking my neck to scan the rest of his collection. “Huh. I’m surprised.”
“That I read philosophy?”
“No, that you can read.”
“I could say the same about you,” he says.
I whip my head toward him and chuckle, “Of course I can read. I’m a rogue, not illiterate. I can also spell. Would you like me to spell ‘stereotype’ for you?” I smile sarcastically at him.
He laughs, a genuine one that isn’t laced with a menacing promise. “Okay, I deserved that.”
“Most of us had a pack prior to becoming a rogue.”
“And did you have a pack before?”
No one’s ever asked me that. No one’s ever cared to.
I pause. “Maybe when I was a baby. My parents probably did.”
“What happened to them?”
“I don’t really know. I think they abandoned me. To be honest, I don’t really remember much about them . . .” I shake the thought. “Anyway, I didn’t really have much of a choice, but there are some who exercise their choice and choose to be a rogue.”
“Why would anyone voluntarily become a rogue?”
I pull a book off the shelf, running my fingers over the embossed text on its cover. “Not everyone born into families are as wonderful as yours seemed to have been.”
Caleb’s lightheartedness is gone, and he becomes quiet.
Way to dampen the mood, Jay.
“Sorry . . . That got dark really quick.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s not. It’s real.”
I give him a sympathetic smile and put the book back in its place and grab another.
He stands and sucks in a breath. “You can, uh . . . borrow them. If you want.”
“Really?” I perk up.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah . . . It’ll give you something to do other than hiding behind house plants until I can move you to Jemma’s.”
No one’s ever allowed me access to a personal library before. I won’t have to steal. I can’t help my joy. I squeal and rush him with a hug. “Thank you!”
Taken aback by my embrace, he stills. “Oh!”
I pull back, resting my arms on his, beaming. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
He grins. “Just . . . Make sure you put them back where you found them, alright?”
“Oh, I will . . . Thank you.” I stare into his blue eyes with unbridled heat.
Without meaning to, my eyes drift to his lips. His pink, puffy, kissable lips. Have they always looked that nice? My mouth fills with saliva, and I swallow.
Caleb stares back at me. His eyes drift to my lips, but he steps away from me, clearing his throat.
“Uh . . . yeah. It’s no big deal. I don’t use them anymore, anyway.
Just make sure you ask before you come in here.
The books you can borrow anytime you want, but the space still requires respect and permission. ”
“Can I ask what this space meant to you? I know it was your father’s but . . . is there a memory attached to it?”
Caleb recoils.
Shit.
“I’m sorry. That was insensitive. I didn’t mean to pry. I have no right.” I exhale.
“No, you don’t.”
Embarrassed, I close my eyes.
“But,” he starts, “it doesn’t hurt to talk about.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t in here much. Sometimes, as a pup, I would sit on his lap while he worked, but other than that, I don’t have too many memories in here.”
I’m confused. He wanted me to ask for permission, yet he’s not attached?
“Every time I open that door,” he points to it.
“I think he might be behind it. And when I keep the door closed, I can imagine he is.” He wanders over to the bow, and I can breathe with the increased distance between us.
“Sometimes, I talk myself so well into believing he is, that I open the door and . . . Well, that’s why I’m here .
. . holding this bow I’ve never even used.
” He laughs softly, but the pain in his voice causes my wolf to whimper.
“Let’s use it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah. Why not?” I shrug. “We could go together.”
“Together, huh?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You want an excuse to be in the woods with me and hunting gear?”
I still. “Okay. Not my best idea.”
“I think it might be your best.” Caleb grins wickedly. He steps toward me, and I mimic his movement, rearing back. He herds me until my back is against the bookshelf. His arms cage me in. “You seemed to like the last time I hunted you. Do you miss it?”
I gulp.
There’s a knock on the door, and Tyler enters without permission. We shrug everything off and pretend like nothing just happened. Or try to, at least.
“Am I interrupting something?” Tyler asks quizzically.
“No. Of course not.” Caleb moves farther away from me.
He’s back to the cold male I know him to be.
“Okay. I came to see if you wanted to go hunting. I know you and your dad always used to go on your birthday, and I just thought—”
“It’s your birthday?”
Caleb grimaces. “Yeah . . .”
“Oh, now we definitely have to go!”
“We?” Tyler raises an eyebrow.
“Uh . . . Yes. I can’t let her out of my sight, now can I?”
A long silence passes between them, and I figure they must be speaking through their mindlink. I wait like the odd one out until Tyler finally speaks.
“In that case, I’ll pack us some extra food since the hound is coming.”