The Alpha's 99 days surrogate

The King’s Anchor

The sun hadn’t even begun to rise when the screaming started.

It wasn't a human scream. It was the sound of a throat being shredded by a howl that couldn't escape. I bolted upright in the massive bed, my heart slamming against my ribs. The room was still pitch black, but the intense heat from the night before was gone. In its place was a bone-chilling cold that seemed to radiate from the man convulsing on the floor.

"Master?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

A thumping sound followed. He was hitting his head against the wall. Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Get out," he wheezed. The voice was distorted, layered with a guttural growl that sounded like heavy stone grinding over bone. "Vespera, run."

I didn't run. The contract was a ghost in my mind, but the sound of his agony was real. I slid off the bed, my bare feet silent on the cold floor. I followed the sound of his ragged breathing until I found him huddled in the corner.

Even in the dark, I could see the faint, sickly glow of the black veins. They weren't just on his arm anymore. They had crawled up his neck, tracing a map of poison across his jaw. He looked like a man being consumed by a shadow from the inside out.

"Don't touch me," he hissed, his body jerking as a fresh wave of pain hit him. "The Rot is taking my wolf. If I shift now, I’ll kill everyone in this house."

I saw his hand. The claws were out, digging deep furrows into the concrete. He was the Lycan King. I knew it then. No regular Alpha had this kind of terrifying pressure in their aura. He was Killian Blackwood, the man the packs whispered about in hushed tones, the King who had gone into hiding because the madness was winning.

"You're dying," I said, the realization hitting me like a physical blow.

"I’m rotting," he corrected, a harsh, bitter laugh breaking through his growl. "Now leave. Before the beast finishes the job."

Instead of backing away, I reached out. My grandmother’s voice echoed in my head, the way she used to tell me that my blood wasn't a defect, but a secret. I didn't think about the rules. I didn't think about the five million dollars. I just saw a man drowning in his own mind.

I placed my hand over his, covering the black, pulsing veins on his wrist.

The moment our skin met, a jolt of silver heat shot from my chest and into his skin. It wasn't a fever. It was something cool, sharp, and blindingly bright. My blood didn't just throb this time. It sang.

Killian froze.

The scratching sound in his throat stopped. The violent jerking of his limbs stilled. I felt the black veins beneath my palm shiver and begin to recede, slinking back down his arm like cowards fleeing the light.

He let out a long, shuddering breath, his forehead dropping against my shoulder. For the first time, the pressure in the room lifted. The madness that had been screaming in his head went silent.

"What did you do?" he whispered. The growl was gone. His voice was raw, human, and utterly terrified.

"I don't know," I breathed, my hand still pinned to his. "I just wanted the noise to stop."

He suddenly gripped my waist, pulling me into his lap with a strength that made me gasp. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling so deeply it felt like he was trying to pull the very soul out of my body.

"The voices are gone," he muttered, his grip tightening until it was almost painful. "For the first time in three years, it’s quiet."

He pulled back just enough to look toward me in the dark. I couldn't see his eyes, but I felt the weight of his gaze changing. I wasn't a surrogate anymore. I wasn't an asset or a piece of property.

I was his anchor.

"You're not leaving my house, Vespera," he growled, but the threat was different now. It wasn't about the contract. It was an obsession. "Not for ninety-nine days. Not for a hundred years. If your blood is the only thing that keeps the monster fed, then I will bleed you dry before I let you go back to your pack."

He stood up, lifting me as if I weighed nothing, and carried me back to the bed. He didn't lie next to me this time. He coiled around me like a predator guarding its only source of life.

"Sleep," he commanded. "Because tomorrow, the world needs to see that the King is no longer rotting. And you’re going to help me remind your pack exactly what they threw away."