The Lycan King's Defiant Surrogate

01 2, 66%°

My main worry is for Tristan and his safety on his dangerous mission. My second worry, however, is for myself, as I'm now alone with him in this farmhouse. There are no other slaves, or servants. No cooks. No cleaners. No other harem women to sate his needs - although that makes me more pleased than concerned, for reasons I don't want to think about. Undoubtedly, he is going to wish for me to fulfill the duties of all the other servants.

Almost immediately, my fears are realized.

"Consort. Make breakfast. Tristan brought groceries when he returned. I expect you know how to throw a meal together."

I do, but it annoys me that he assumed that.

He's injured, I remind myself, so that I will hold my temper. Besides, I am technically his servant still, even if we are outside the capital. I'm also hungry too.

In the kitchen, I find the pantry stocked. There's no electricity in this house, but there is an old wood burning stove and an ice box. Both of which are stocked with wood and ice.

I could finagle a quick breakfast with modern appliances, but these antiques take me much longer to sort out. Why is it so difficult to start a fire in the wood stove? You'd think one match would do it.

Half an hour late, I've managed to start a fire, though I'm covered in splotches of old soot from having pushed the wood around so much. The eggs and bacon are heating up now though, so that's something. Caleb storms in, demanding, "How long does it take to cook an egg?"

"Longer than you'd think, with the equipment I'm working with, I tell him.

"I don't see the problem," he says.

"These kinds of stoves haven't been used in over a hundred years," I say, glaring back at him.

He leans against one of the nearby counters, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed with annoyance. His face, even irritated is handsome as ever, which is incredibly frustrating, but it's his body that takes my breath away.

That flannel shirt and linen pants that I had found upstairs that I thought might fit him are decidedly too small. They stretch across his wide shoulders. Every curve of muscle down his torso is on delicious display. Those pants are so tight, I can clearly make out the outline of his dick which twitches under my gaze.

"My eyes are up here, servant," he says, though he's smirking now, the bastard. "And you're burning the eggs."

"Shit!" I gasp, removing the pan from the heat of the stovetop. The eggs are overdone, but the bacon isn't thoroughly cooked yet. The stovetop isn't cooking evenly. I'll have to remember that in the future.

With hurry, I dump the eggs onto a pair of plates and then return the pan, with only bacon now, to the stovetop. If I'm having this much trouble with the stove, I have no idea how I'm ever going to get the oven to work.

I rub my forehead, realizing too late that I've smeared my soot-coated hands across my forehead.

"Here," Caleb says, suddenly beside me. He cups my jaw with one hand, while reaches up with the other, holding a towel, and gently wipes the soot off of my face. "A servant of mine shouldn't look like she fell out of a chimney."

For a moment, he seems almost... softer somehow. I try to envision him doing this with anyone else, and come up short. But then, like he realizes himself that this is not to his character, he backs away and tosses the towel at my

chest. 00

"Clean yourself up. It insults me for you to be such a mess in my presence."

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"We're in a farmhouse with no electricity and water we have to get from a pump," I say. I don't want to admit that I'm hurt by his sudden turnabout, but it still hurts all the same. "I'm doing my best."

"Do better," he says. Grabbing his plate of eggs, he eyes the kitchen table, but likely recalling what happened there, he instead returns to where he had leaned when he first entered the kitchen.

I look away back to the bacon. By the time it's finished, he's ready for more eggs. I offer him mine, that I haven't even started eating yet.

He frowns at them. "Those are cold by now. You wouldn't have your king cating cold food, would you?"

At that moment, I want to smash it into his face.

Patience, I plead with myself, and crack open a couple more eggs.Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

By the time I manage to get to my own breakfast, it's all cold. Still, I'm hungry enough to eat it all down, even as I silently resent Caleb for it..

He leaves his dirty plate on the counter and heads back to the couch in the living room.

Later, after cleaning the dishes, some of the house, and myself, I head outside to check on the state of the garden. Tristan left us with enough food for a few weeks, but without knowing how long we might stay here, I think it's smart to have a renewable source of food. Especially because I've seen Caleb eyeing that icebox. I don't trust him not to accidentally leave it

open.

I'm not sure the King has ever stepped foot in a kitchen before in his entire life.

The garden is small, but has a variety of vegetables planted. Some, like the potatoes, are even close to being done. It's just a little overgrown, is all. With some love and care, this garden could flourish again.

Rolling up my sleeves, I set to work pulling out the more invasive of weeds. Tall grasses have infested most of the garden, so it's slow-going work.

I'm only halfway through, when Caleb ambles out of the house. From the porch, he calls down to me. "Servant. I want a glass of cold water."

"I put some water in the icebox," I tell him as I continue my work. "It should be cool by now."

"That means nothing to me. I am telling you to get me a glass of water."

I should, probably, even though it is a menial task that he is perfectly capable of doing on his own. But I'm more concerned right now with making sure we can survive on our own, isolated as we are, than I am about catering to his every need. "I'm busy," I say.

An eerie kind of silence follows. Then, he asks, "What did you just say to me?" Every word is stunted, as if spoken through his teeth.

"Who knows how long it will take Tristan to return," I say. "We need a garden."

"That is not a concern of mine," he says. "That is for you to worry about."

Anger flashes hot within me. In the moment, I take it out on the weeds, yanking them with more ferocity now. "It will be a concern to us both if we run out of food."

"Servant," Caleb says, his voice low now. A tone like that I might have feared in the capital, but here in the countryside, I am too tired, hungry, and irritated to be afraid of him. "Water. Now

Knees in the dirt, I swivel to face him. "Get it yourself."