#Chapter 4: Category C
1138 Words
“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, w***e, 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 f*****g 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.
“s**t,” 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.
- Writer
