Chapter 143

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The doctor has denied my drugs.”

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

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

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

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

Yet with that acknowledgement come questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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