Chapter 195

Caleb reads the threat before I can think to hide it. As he does, a red hue begins to swirl in his eyes swallowing all other color there.

“Caleb,” I whisper, hoping the softness in my voice might help calm him, when he seems so very much like he might shift at any moment.

The fingers of his free hand curl, claw-like. The other grips the dagger in a white-knuckled grip. His shoulders are square, his back straight. Those red eyes flash dangerously.

“Look at me,” I tell him, coaxing his gaze up away from the threat and to my face. When his glance meets mine, I say, “I’m okay. I’m right here. No one has hurt me.”

“Yet,” he growls, his voice more wolf than man.

The letter is intimidating. If my focus wasn’t entirely on trying to calm down Caleb, I’d be much more frightened than I am. Yet, perhaps part of my hyper focus on Caleb is a defense mechanism to keep myself from being frozen up with too much fear.

This isn’t the first threat I’ve received, but there is something ominous about a dagger slammed into my door, especially with Caleb’s own guards keeping watch just down the hallway. Did they somehow not see this occur? Or, as their orders are to protect Caleb’s door, did they just not give any thought to this happening at mine?

Those are questions that need answers – later.

For now, I need to keep Caleb from shifting into his massive, werewolf form here in the hallway. There are no enemies here right now. A shift would only further to hasten his mate sickness. In a rage state, he might lash out and hurt someone. I couldn’t let that happen.

“Caleb, please.”

Touching him while he’s like this is potentially dangerous. I’ve seen him lash out at people for standing too close, let alone daring to move closer. But this is Caleb…

He’s incredibly threatening, deadly enough to rip a man’s head off without much effort, but I trust him. Intrinsically. Down to the very fiber of my being. I know this is a man who would never hurt me.

So I reach out and place my hand on his arm. His gaze snaps down to it, to where my fingertips lightly rest on his forearm. Exhaling, he closes his eyes.

“You are being threatened,” he says, his voice still rough but now more man-like. His growl persists, however.

“It’s a letter and a dagger,” I say. “A promise of danger but not an active threat. There is no one here who wants to hurt me. You don’t have to protect me in this moment.”

His frown deepens like he isn’t fond of this scenario. He likely wants to fight off any attackers right now, without having to find them out or wait.

I’d rather have this be over too, sooner rather than later, but if the person threatening me is so cowardly as to only leave a letter behind, then they are not likely to attack while we are ready. They will wait for a quieter moment, like if I’m asleep or alone.

No one would be so foolish as to take Caleb on in a one-on-one fight. Especially with him so close to shifting.

“I’m safe,” I tell him. “You are with me right now, and I’m safe.”

With his eyes closed, he breathes deeply a few times. On the inhales, I can tell he is scenting the air. He’s likely listening too, trying to find the danger. He mustn’t sense any, because after another moment, his body relaxes marginally.

He’s still tenser than normal, like he’s ready for a fight, but not so tense that he seems like he’s going to shift anymore. When he opens his eyes, they are clear of the red.

“I’m safe,” I tell him once more when he is looking right at me.

He nods. “I will keep you that way.”

Still holding the dagger, he walks around me and storms down the hallway to where the guards are posted outside of his door.

He slams the dagger down so hard that it slashes straight into the tiled floor, blade first, and remains upright. The guards step back on reflex.

“Tell me how this came to be stabbed through my favored consort’s door without either of you being aware of it,” Caleb says, his voice low and cold.

The guards glance at each other.

The one on the left speaks first. “We didn’t see anything unusual, sir. Just the typical few servants going in and out of Harper’s room.”

The one on the right then seems to remember something. “Actually. Yes.” To the other, he says, “Remember when that one slave dropped an entire tray full of food right there on the other side of the hallway. Their supervisor gave them the worst sort of verbal lashing.”

The one of the left remembers now too. “Oh, that’s right. It was difficult not to watch.”

“You were distracted,” Caleb says.

Both guards lower their heads.

“Forgive me, sir,” says the one on the left. “I thought the supervisor might strike the slave. I was ready to intervene.”

“I was simply distracted, King Caleb,” says the man on the right. “There was a frightful mess. They had to bring in another person to help clean it up. But we only observed the incident for a moment.”

“A moment would be long enough for someone to stab that threatening note into Harper’s door,” Caleb says. “Especially if this ‘accident’ was intended to distract you.”

Caleb is clearly furious, his voice cold as ice, his face twisted up with blatant rage.

I hurry forward before things are said or done that cannot be unsaid or undone.

“Caleb,” I say. “Perhaps if you assign guards to my door as well, you might feel better about all of this. If someone is standing right in front of my door, it would be much more difficult to leave a threatening note on it.”

“It’s not the notes I’m worried about, and after hearing this today, I’m unconvinced that guards would actually move to protect you, Harper, if there was something else going on – like a servant dropping a tray.”

Both guards seem to sink into themselves, appearing slightly smaller and properly cowed.

I’m not sure that anyone could be so distracted as to let a murderer slip right past the very door they are protecting, but Caleb appears unsatisfied, both with his own guards’ behavior and their any future attempts to try to protect me.

“There’s no one I can trust in this palace with your safety, Harper,” Caleb says, looking intently at my face. He holds my eyes prisoner; I cannot look away. “No one but me.”

I blink, startled. Surely Caleb isn’t suggesting that he act as my bodyguard, standing watch at my door. The duties of the King far outweigh any threats against my life, even if they are legitimate. I am just one person, while he is the leader of all.

Yet, when I open my mouth to tell him so, he must be able to sense what I’m about to say, because he immediately glowers at me, making me hold my tongue.

“From now on, Harper,” Caleb says, “You will move into this room – my room – and stay with me every night.”