“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.

I stare wide-eyed, mouth agape at the man I shared my heat with three years ago. I have to be mistaken, but my body knows the truth. Those strong hands caressed my skin. Those plush lips spent hours sucking marks onto my breasts.

Immediately, I turn away. Curling closer to Jane, I hope to use her to hide. She’s beautiful, curvaceous and memorable. Next to her, I look like a sack of potatoes.

“Tell me when he’s gone,” I whisper.

Jane glances at me curiously. “He’s not looking this way anymore.”

I exhale in relief.

“Do you not want to be chosen?” Jane asks me. “Now that I’ve seen him. He’s so handsome…”

“I don’t care how handsome he is,” I say. “I’d rather just go home.”

Jane nods with understanding though watching her, I can see the wonder in her eyes as she looks at Caleb. Who could blame her? A terrible situation is made marginally better knowing the King is not some lecherous old man.

“He’s coming closer,” Jane says in a hasty whisper. Suddenly, she straightens. Curving her back a little, she juts out her already voluptuous breasts.

I’ve always thought my curves to be adequate but compared to Jane, I look like a skinny lamppost.

Turning slightly, I catch sight of the King as he nears us. Heavens above, he’s even more handsome up close. My memories are hazy from our night together. Though I’m sure he was the man, I only remember shadows, not the full expanse of his gorgeous face.

That tall, strong body, though, I remember a bit more. Shifting muscles, strong thighs.

He pressed his hands against my arms, dragging them over my head.

“Don’t move,” he growled in my ear.

Now, I shiver, remembering the dark timber of his voice.

Just as quickly as they arrived, I shake the thoughts away. I am not here for sex, despite the premise of potentially being selected for the King’s harem.

My singular purpose is to protect Samuel and my pack from danger.

Samuel, the man I loved who I will never hold again.

My chest aches. How close we were to lasting, and I didn’t even know it until it was already too late. I wish he had confided in me. So much heartache could have been avoided.

Though perhaps it was for the best that things worked out as they did. If I’d known Samuel loved me for longer, our parting would have been even more difficult.

Maybe I would have been too selfish to make the choice I did. I might have even run away with him.

The King might have eventually found us, but for a time we would have been happy.

The King…

I look at him again and a touch of hatred flickers to life in my heart.

All of my bad luck, all of my problems, began that night three years ago, when I shared my heat with this man.

I have no desire to interact with him ever again.

He approaches us. Jane lowers her gaze, demure. From beside her, I sneak a few glances, watching Caleb trace his eyes over Jane’s curvaceous figure.

“This one is acceptable,” the King says, his voice a deep sexy rumble. My body reacts instantly, heating without my consent.

Caleb tilts his gaze to me. Swiftly, he looks down the length of my body. Just as quickly, he looks away. He doesn’t say a word as he continues forward, walking down the line for category B toward the stage.

Guards come closer to collect Jane. “With us,” they command her.

She glances at me. “I hope we meet again,” she says before she turns and follows them out of the room.

Near the doorway, I spot the guard that groped Jane watching the scene with clear disgust. When his gaze flickers to me, I immediately look away.

Caleb selects a few more girls in the B-line, and then moves up the A-line, selecting several more. He doesn’t even glance at the C’s.

At the stage, he says something to his Beta Tristan. Then, he totally walks out of the room.

The minute he steps out, nearly everyone exhales a deep breath. For a moment, the thick tension seems broken, and relief replaces it.

Has the King made all of his decisions? Are the rest of us free to go back home now?

Could I return to Samuel and after waiting out the next two weeks, become Luna of the pack?

Excitement coils within me. Perhaps my luck is about to change after all.

“You,” says a voice from behind me. I turn and see the guard who had grabbed Jane. He has his gun in his hand, the barrel pointed in my direction. “Come with me.”

“The king didn’t select me,” I say.

The guard just smirks, a vicious, sharp thing that twists his face. “That makes your ripe for the plucking, heroine. You stepped in and ruined my fun. Now I get my fun out of you.” That smirk slips, revealing the flash of anger underneath. “Come with me. Now.”

I look around for support, but all those who are close enough to have heard him are avoiding my gaze.

I’m standing in a sea of people, but I’ve never felt so alone.

“I won’t ask again,” he snaps. Reaching out, he grips my wrist and drags me with him. He pulls me toward a sideroom that I haven’t seen anyone come in or out of. He kicks the door open, then throws me inside.

I stumble into a stack of boxes. This is a storage closet, filled with boxes and shelves, but no people.

He places his gun down on a stack of boxes near the door. Even without it, he’s much bigger and stronger than me.

I glance around desperately, but I don’t see any other doors or windows in this room. I’m totally trapped.

“Take your clothes off,” he orders.

Wrapping my arms over my chest, I shake my head.

“I know you aren’t a virgin, bitch. Take your clothes off like a good little slut, before I make you go to your knees.” He grins. “Or maybe that’s what you want. You desperate for a good face fucking, slut? You want to suck my cock?”

“Fuck you!” I shout.

His grin disappears. “Don’t talk back,” he growls as he storms toward me.

As I turn away, he grabs me by the shoulder. His fingers curve, grabbing my shirt in a fist, and he pulls in a rush, tearing the sleeve and much of the front off of my shirt.

Crowding into me, he shouts, “On your knees!”

“No!” I scream.

I try to back up but he grabs me by both arms.

He starts to pull.

He’s stronger than me. I can’t break his grip.

Then, suddenly, he stops. His eyes widen. His lips part and blood dribbles down from his mouth.

Looking down, I see the bladed edge of a sword sticking out from his ribcage.

With a slice, the sword tears through him. Blood splashes all over me and my torn clothing.

The guard’s body falls then, in a heap.

Standing behind him, holding the hilt of the bloodied sword, stands King Caleb.

I tremble in shock and fear.

Caleb glares at me. “For three years, I’ve been looking for you. And for our child.”

Our… what?