The Lycan King's Defiant Surrogate

“I know what I want,” Samuel says, speaking to Leah now. “I’ll be an outlaw, I don’t care. I’m tired of playing pretend. I’ll save you from this fate, Harper. I’ll take care of everything. I only need you to come with me.”

“You would lose everything,” I say, my heart in my throat. For so long, I’ve dreamed of this exact conversation – of Samuel loving me so much he was willing to throw everything else away. But now that I have it, it’s too much.

“Everything but you,” Samuel says.

“You would give up the position of Alpha.”

“Better than watching you become one of the ruthless king’s sex slaves.”

“You are out of your mind,” Leah snaps.

Rushing toward us, she tries to push him away from me. Her slight frame is no match for his much larger one, and he just looks at her.

“Samuel get away from her. She’s cast some kind of curse on you… We’ll find a cure, I swear. There must be a witch who can help,” Leah speaks quickly. Her eyes frantic, she’s the one who seems like she’s losing her mind. “We were going to get married… I was going to be Luna… You can’t take that away…”

Her eyes focus on me. “And for her. She’s not even pure!”

My heart crumbles into tattered pieces. Samuel’s love for me makes him want to give up everything, but my affection for him demands that I protect him from that sacrifice.

If the events of that fateful night three years ago never occurred, then we could have worked. We could have loved each other, been happy, raised a family, and led the pack.

That night changed everything. I’m tarnished now, and the stain rubs off on all those close to me.

I cannot allow Samuel, the man I once loved more than any other, to sacrifice his future and his life for me. Not while I’m in this state. Not while he has so many other options.

He needs to lead our pack. He’ll be a good Alpha.

I won’t be the woman who continues to selfishly ruin his life.

Yet as he looks at me with such blatant desperation, I know he won’t accept my decision to protect him over myself.

I cannot give him false hope. If he suspects I still care for him, he will defy the Lycan King. He will set himself up for failure.

To give him the best chance at the brightest future possible, I must deceive him.

“I don’t want to live my life on the run,” I say. I tug my hand from his and drop it down to my side.

He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What?”

“Becoming one of the Lycan King’s women is a great honor,” I say. “And if he’s searching for someone with traits that only I have… maybe I could be someone special. Someone great.”

“He could treat you viciously,” Samuel argues. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Or he’ll give me everything I’ve ever desired,” I counter. I bury down my self-loathing at having to lie. The hurt in his eyes slices through me like a blade.

Later, I promise myself. I can face these feelings later.

For now, I still need to be the kind of woman I despise.

“The Lycan King has more money and power than anyone else can even dream,” I say. “Compared to him, you are nothing, Samuel.”

Disbelief makes way for anger in his face. His brow lowers, his voice hardens. “You are not this vain. You love me.”

I do, which is why I’ll never let him give up everything he’s worked so hard for. Not for my sake.

I will protect Samuel, and protect our pack.

To do that, I must go to the King’s side, honoring his summons.

I turn from him, walk around Leah and head to the ladder. Behind me, I leave the bag and my possessions. There’s nothing here I need where I’m going.

Samuel starts after me, but Leah steps in his way.

“Listen to her, damn it,” Leah says. “You aren’t thinking clearly.”

I move down the ladder and then down the stairs.

The royal messenger is already outside, standing beside the open back door to a black sedan. He steps aside as I approach.

“In here,” he says.

Following his command, I sit down on the cool leather. My nerves get the better of me and I start to fidget my fingers, twisting them around each other. I can’t take the silence anymore.

“You said the King is looking for girls like me,” I say.

The messenger tilts his head to the side. He’s not glancing at me but I can tell he’s listening.

Emboldened by this, I continue. “Who exactly is King Caleb looking for?”

“The King searches for a woman he met three years ago,” the messenger says.

My heart races. Three years ago, I shared my heat with a stranger who was gone before sunrise.

That has to be a coincidence.

We drive for four hours before we arrive at a towering castle wall. I’ve never seen it in person, but this intricate brickwork could only be that of the Capital.

There’s traffic leading into one of the many entrances, but the driver veers the sedan around it all and turns into an entrance with a gate and armed guard. The guard peers through the window and then lets us through.

Eventually, the tunnel opens up into a larger underground expanse, complete with buildings and roads. Rock formations hang down from the ceiling. String lights and lanterns light up the space. A cave system?

The car stops outside a stone-faced, multistory building. There’s a line of girls that stretches from inside out the front door.

Cautiously, I exit the car. Immediately, a guard in full body armor, grabs me under the arm and hauls me into place at the end of the line.

Following the line of girls, I eventually enter the building. At the doorway, an armed guard stands beside a basket of cellphones. He looks at me expectantly.

Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my cell phone and hold it out. He snatches it from my hand and chucks it down into the basket.

“Will I get that back?” I ask.

He stares straight through me.

I’m guessing that’s a no.

The line continues into different rooms. The house seems generations old, with smaller rooms and lower ceilings than any modern home I’ve seen. Oil lanterns are used rather than electric lights.

In one room, a group of men and women wordlessly collect our measurements with their ribbon tape. They move quickly and deftly, twisting each girl this way and that until they get what they need.

In another room, we are asked questions.

“Where are you from?”

“When were you born?”

I come to stand in front of a table when it’s my turn. The older, balding man behind the table has sweat trickling down the side of his face. As he eats an apple, the spittle crunches out of his mouth, splattering down onto the paperwork before him.

Looking me over, he chews and grins. His eyes on my breasts, he asks, “Are you a virgin?”