The Lycan King's Defiant Surrogate novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60 

Stepping into Caleb’s personal chambers feels like stepping into another world. Every square inch of the room is filled with decadent displays of wealth, from the gold and crystal chandeliers, to the elaborate sconces filled with fresh flowers, to the jewel–encrusted walls and the shining, golden furniture. 

Although, looking closer, only the bed truly feels lived–in. The rest of the room as a hotel would, there for show but not really function. I wonder how much time Caleb truly spends in this room at all. The past couple of weeks alone, he’s spent more time in my room than he has here. 

Even now, Caleb seems out of place. He’s hunched over on an uncomfortable–looking antique sofa, his head buried under his hands. 

“King Caleb?” I ask, as I cautiously move closer. 

The carpet beneath my feet is stark white. I feel like I’m dirtying it just by stepping on it. 

“Headache. Caleb grumbles. This forces my feet to move faster, not really caring about the carpet anymore. Caleb is my focus now, instead. 

When I come to stand before him, I start to reach my hands out toward his scalp. “Should I?” 

He growls slightly, low, barely–audible. 

I still my hands. 

“Tell me where the child is,” he says, not looking at me. 

Are we on this again? There was never a child,” I say. 

“Your pack’s fate rests solely in my hands, and you still lie to me he grumbles. 

“You can ask me a hundred thousand times, and you will always receive the same answer. You can threaten everyone in the world that I love, and in my distress, I will still be unable to answer,” I tell him “Because there is no answer. There is no child” 

His growling grows louder. 

“Now stop being stubborn and let me help you feel better. Annoyed, I move my hands forward. 

In a flash, before I can touch one strand of hair, I blink, and I am pressed up against the far wall. 

I have no idea how I came to be here. Caleb must have used his alpha speed to shove me across the room. I know because he’s here too, pressing me against the wall with his body. My arms are forced upwards, my hands held together in one of his own against the wall above my head. 

Yet, even forceful and firm as he is, his grip is on my palms, not my wrists, as if mindful of my persistent wounds. 

“You think yourself familiar enough to touch me without permission,” he growls. Bis eyes flash with anger. His lips are curled in a snarl 

“I’m only trying to help you,” I insist. 

see the distant sort of look in his eyes. He seems “You are just like the rest,” he says, and now that I’m looking closer, I can s like he’s somewhere far away. Angry at me? Or am I merely the closest scapegoat to whatever enemy he cannot reach at the 

moment? 

“You seek to betray me,” he says, dropping his voice even lower. You all wish to kill me. 

1/3 

15:09 Wed, Nov 20 

Chapter 60 

ex 60% 

If this is a delusion or a memory, I don’t know, but I get the distinctive feeling he is no longer presently in this moment with 

Earlier today, alone, he gave me a dagger to defend myself. He teased me about using it on him. 

Now, like a light switch has been flicked, he’s lost in some kind of rage–trance. Brought on by the headache? Some other reason? I’m not sure. 

I can’t move to massage him, which usually relaxes him enough to calm these waking nightmares. 

Yet some part of him must still be conscious, because he’s not hurting me. 

“Caleb,” I say, Overly familiar, perhaps, but it seems the best way to reach him at the moment. He likes when I say his name in bed. Perhaps it will be the shock that breaks him free now. “Caleb, please.” 

He growls as he breathes, yet, from one breath to the next it lessens. 

Blinking once, and then twice, he seems to refocus on me. For a moment, he seems somewhat confused 

Then he seems angry again. 

“Did you try to kill me?” he snaps. 

“No,” I tell him at once. “Your messenger asked me to come. I thought… your headache_” 

He blinks a few times more, as if clearing away the last of the terror he just endured. 

What it must be like to live inside of his head, constantly on gual, the paranoia creating enemies in the dark. 

He glances up to where he’s holding my hands, and then down to where his body presses mine hard against the wall. This sends his gaze looking straight down my shirt. 

He licks his lips. 

“There’s more than one way to calm a headache,” he says 

and kisses me. 

Pinned to the wall as I am, I am entirely left to his whims, his mercy. 

He has none, licking unrelentingly into my mouth. 

He slots one of his thighs between mine, pressing against the apex of my thighs, gifting me friction. 

I should be horny already, not this close after the fear. 

Maybe I’m some kind of masochist, but… his rage, so long as he not drawing blood, is kind of sexy. The fire in his eyes looks similar from rage to lust. His voice grows deeper too, sending shivers through me. 

tunwild 

And the sheer strength he put on display here, moving so quickly holding me so easily, it makes my imagination run wild. What other things could he do with that speed? That strength? 

Despite myself, I start grinding against his thigh. 

He drops his mouth to the column of my throat, just above my lver collar, and sucks in a possessive mark.