Chapter 142

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

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

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

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

Immediately, I am greeted with destruction and chaos.

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

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

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

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

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

“That was a command, doctor!”

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

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

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

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

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

The doctor visibly swallows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Caleb, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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