The room goes very still and quiet.

For a moment, I think I might have misheard. Was the royal messenger talking about me? But why would the Lycan King want me?

Each year, every pack in his kingdom would select their most beautiful woman and send her to the capital. From among them, the Lycan King would select the ones that interest him most, who would then become part of his harem.

It’s a great honor to be selected, although somewhat precarious. Rumors are whispered in the dark, speaking of the Lycan King’s ruthlessness, as well as his insatiable appetites…

Though, oddly, there’s never been any talk of children. Those favorable to the King vow it’s because he is waiting to find his fated mate, and that she would be the one to bear his child.

I am neither the most beautiful woman in the pack nor anyone important. So I continue to wonder, why would the Lycan King want me as his property?

Unless he needs some kind of servant?

“That’s impossible,” Leah says, speaking the words I’m unable to say aloud. “There must be some mistake.”

“There is no mistake,” the royal messenger replies. “Our King Caleb has been searching for women with this one’s exact characteristics. Seeing her as I have, I can confirm she meets those traits and am honor-bound to bring her to our King.”

I don’t recall him looking at me for more than a moment. Perhaps that was all he needed.

“She’s not even a virgin!” Leah shouts. In her rage, she drops the teapot. I’m quick to retract my arm, but as the teapot hits the floor, it shatters. Hot water splatters outward, covering the hem of my skirts.

The royal messenger jumps to his feet. His face is twisted with annoyance.

“No Alpha would want her, especially the King!” Leah continues, seemingly unaware of the way the royal messenger is looking at her. Mother sees though, and starts to step closer to her favorite child. “Offering the King a whore like her would be an insult! She’s –”

A loud crack fills the room as the royal messenger slaps Leah cleanly across the face.

Leah, stunned, has turned her entire face with the slap. Tears well in her eyes. Her cheek quickly reddens.

She’s never been hit like that in her life, even when she so dearly deserved it. I was ever the punching bag; Leah, ever the perfect child.

The royal messenger speaks clearly and crisply, with obvious distain. “Who are you to question the will of our King Caleb? It’s wholly within my rights to see you hang for such treachery.”

Mother moves at once, stepping into the space between Leah and the messenger.

“Forgive my foolish child, good sir!” Mother says. “She did not mean the words she speaks. If anyone is to be punished, please punish me instead. As the woman who raised her, it is my duty as a mother to take responsibility for her.”

Meanwhile, my knees are beginning to hurt, sitting so stiffly on the floor. Looking over, I see Mother draping herself over my sister, desperate to protect her.

No one is protecting me.

Exhaling in frustration, the royal messenger slips his attention to me. “Gather your things, Miss…”

“Harper,” I provide my name.

He does not repeat it, nor even nod in acknowledgement. “You are allowed one bag. Pack wisely. We will leave in five minutes.”

Five minutes does not give me much time.

Pushing myself up to my feet, I ignore the creak in my knees, as well as the sniveling of my mother still trying to protect my terrible sister and walk toward the door.

I have no bag of my own, so I slip into my parents’ room to snatch one from them. The bag that I take is one that used to belong to me before my disgrace. It feels less like stealing to take it back now, and more like returning my own stolen property.

Bag in hand, I start for the stairs.

Three years ago, I was removed from my lavish bedroom and hidden away in the attic. It’s cold up there, without as much insulation as the rest of the house, and leaks sometimes when there’s a hard rain or too much snow. Yet I’ve still managed to make it my home, placing the few things I own around my cot bed.

In my mind, I’m making a list of the things I can’t live without. It’s not a very long list, as most of my possessions have already been stripped from me.

Dragging the bag, I climb the ladder up to my attic space. When I reach it, I startle.

A familiar figure stands in the space near my bed. In the dim light of the nearby slatted window, he turns to me.

“Samuel,” I say.

What could he possibly be doing here? We haven’t spoken since that horrible day three years prior. I’d tried to explain everything, but he wouldn’t listen. He cast me away like everyone else.

“Gather only what you can’t live without,” Samuel says. “We’ll need to travel fast and light if we are to have any chance of escape.”

I froze, not understanding. This is the most he’s talked to me since my disgrace. “What are you talking about?”

“Hurry, Harper,” Samuel pleads. Stepping forward, he takes the bag from my hands and starts to throw my things into it. I have no dresser, just a hamper of clothes tucked into the corner. He grabs blindly, packing for me.

“But… why?” I ask.

Not looking at me, he explains. “I don’t want to marry Leah. I never did. I’ve done all I can to delay this wedding. For three long, terrible years, I’ve succeeded. Two more weeks is all I need, and I will become Alpha. Once I’m Alpha, I can make my own decisions, like who I want as my Luna.”

I understand the words he’s saying, though it’s a shock. For any of this to be true means that he’s faked his compliance for years, convincing everyone he wants Leah, just to change everything once he’s deemed Alpha.

What I don’t understand is how any of this affects me.

Looking back, Samuel must see the uncertainty in my eyes. He drops my bag and walks the few steps it takes to cross the space to stand before me.

“I wanted to wait until I was Alpha,” he continues. This close, even in the dim light, I can see the burning determination in his eyes. His intensity and sincerity melds me to the spot, staring at him, listening. “But I can’t wait if they plan on giving you away. We have to leave. We can elope along the way, then no one can stop us.”

“Elope? Samuel, you haven’t even talked to me in three years…”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Samuel says. “It was all a ruse. You are the one I love, Harper. The only one I’ve ever loved. There’s no time. Run away with me now, and become my wife.”

“Your wife?!” comes a shriek from the ladder. Just then, Leah pushes her way into my space. “You are insane! You’ll be hunted forever. The Lycan King won’t be denied. He’ll chase you for the rest of your lives. No one defies him.”

Panicked, I take a step backwards. How long has she been listening?

“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?”

“No…” I say, swallowing the rising lump in my throat. “I’m not.”

This answer has ostracized me from my pack. I’ve been called every name under the sun: slut, whore, loose, tainted…

All because I went into heat and slept with a man who was not my mate. A night I barely even remember. Most of my recollection are shadows, spikes of pleasure, a touch of pain. None of it is fully clear.

The man looks down at the paperwork and takes another bite of his apple. He marks something down with a pen.

“You are category C,” the man says. “Tell that to the guard at the door.” Looking up, he tilts to wave at the girl behind me.

Realizing I’m being dismissed, I hurry forward back into line.

At the door, the guard stops me. “Category?”

“C,” I say.

“Stay to the right,” he orders.

I step through the door into a new wider room. It’s almost like a makeshift chair-less auditorium, where the floor slopes down toward a small stage. Standing on the stage, one man seems to be barking orders at some of the guards and other workers.

“That’s the King’s Beta, Tristan,” whispers one of the girls I walk past.

In this room, the single line has broken into three different ones, all snaking their way down to the front of the room. I stick to the right and end up in the third category.

Not to be disparaging to my fellow girls in category C, but it’s clear at a glance that we are the group made up of those least likely to be chosen by the King.

Category A is filled with beautiful, model-like girls. Perfect faces and hair, perfect frames.

Category B seems a bit curvier, or a bit plainer.

In category C, we all don’t really look each other in the eye, like we are ashamed of ourselves. I imagine I’m not the only one here with a sordid past.

It all feels like a cruel joke now.

I could be with a man who has loved me for years. Instead, I’m standing in this cold underground house, being poked and prodded and ranked.

Suddenly, a scream cuts through my thoughts. One of the guards has corned a woman in category B. She’s curvy, with her dark hair in thick tresses.

“You’re measurements can’t be right,” the guard says, his voice mocking. “I’ll need to check for myself.” He grabs her hips forcefully, yanking her against him.

The other girls nearby veer off as far as they can while still trying to maintain their line.

No one makes any move to help this girl.

The guard grabs her ass with one hand and her breast with the other. She struggles, whimpering and pushing, but the guard is relentless. The harder she pushes at him, the tighter he grips her.

“Let me go!” she shouts.

“Shut up and stand still,” he growls. His mockery is gone. Now, he just sounds angry.

Tears stream down the woman’s face.

I can’t stand it. In no universe can I stand here and watch a woman be assaulted, armed guard or now.

“Stop!” I shout, starting forward. “Get your fucking hands off of her.”

Everyone around me turns to look. Even the grabby guard passes to gape at me. The curvy woman looks at me with pleading eyes.

“Who do you think you are?” the guard snaps. “You have no right to interfere. Get back in your line, Category C.”

I bite my bottom lip to hide its trembling and lift my chin in defiance. He’s not any scarier than Leah on a bad day.

“I could ask you the same question. Who do you think you are?” I say with far more confidence than I feel. “That woman is category B. With a figure like that, she’s likely to be chosen by the King. What gives you the right to taint one of the King’s potential women?”

The guard paused, his face going slightly pale. Looking around, he only seems to realize now how much attention he’s drawing to himself.

“Shit,” he growls and pushes the woman away.

She stumbles and falls to the ground. He doesn’t care. He turns and storms away, but not before casting a furious glare my way. I match it with one of my own, not backing down until he looks away first.

Breaking out of my line, I move toward the woman and help her back to her feet.

“Thank you…” she says through her sniffles. “You saved me…”

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Jane…”

“Nice to meet you, Jane. I’m Harper.”

Jane looks up at me with gratitude in her doe brown eyes. Immediately though, the tears reform. “Do you really think the King will choose me? I might have been better off with that terrible guard…”

“Don’t say that,” I tell her.

“But it’s true, isn’t it? They say the King is so old… and brutally rough with his women…”

Around us, mummers and whispers begin to pick up into a steady cacophony. All of the girls suddenly seem excited and nervous. They all seem to be looking at something behind me.

Turning, I follow their gazes to where a man has just entered. He’s tall and remarkably handsome with a clean-shaven face and pale blue eyes. Dark windswept hair curls around a face of sharp angles. High cheekbones. A firm, sturdy chin. Lips plush enough for soft kisses.

His gaze is cutting though, his intensity fierce. He carries himself tall and proud, like a man who knows his worth is high. A man who knows all he has to do is dip his head in one direction and the entire room would follow his command.

“That’s the King,” one of the girls behind us whispers.

As she says it, I can see now, the subtle golden threads weaving through his otherwise dark royal garb. A narrow golden chain crosses the width of his forehead.

King Caleb in the flesh.

Jane gasps. I can understand. He’s certainly not what I expected.

But… there’s something else bothering me.

He almost seems familiar somehow.

Caleb’s glare sweeps across the room, when suddenly it snags on me.

My breath punches from my body.

It can’t be.

King Caleb starts toward me and I feel my body go numb.

I remember how I know him.

Three years ago, in a hotel room bed, King Caleb pushed my legs apart and claimed me.