Book Of Caleb Novels & Stories

Caleb never understood why humans always seemed so desperate for attention. Unlike them, he had spent most of his life trying to go unnoticed, doing everything he could to hide his overwhelming size and strength. None of it had ever helped. And now, with his pack by his side, he no longer felt the need to hide who he truly was.

He dried his hair with a towel and opened the gift. As soon as the wrapping was off, bold red letters appeared—Love Manual. Caleb's expression darkened instantly as he tossed the book aside. However, in doing so, it landed on the bedside table. He knew that he should not have trusted Winston. Caleb grabbed his laptop, sat on the bed, and worked a little. Yet, sleep eluded him. Lately, he had not been sleeping well at all, always feeling like the room was permeated with Penny's scent.

Caleb noticed me staring. “What?” I shrugged. “Thinking.” “Dangerous,” he said, and Jason nodded immediately. “Very dangerous.” I ignored both of them. “What exactly did you see?” The room became quieter. Caleb’s smile disappeared not completely, just enough and he looked down at his hands, and for several seconds he didn’t answer. Then he sighed. “A lot.” I waited, and Jason waited, and eventually Caleb rubbed a hand across his face. “It wasn’t just one memory. That’s the problem.” His voice was softer now, and his eyes drifted toward the window like he wasn’t really seeing the room anymore. “It felt like hundreds of them. People begging me. People dying. People calling me king.”

My fingers closed not around the cool metal of a derringer, as I’d half-expected, but around soft, worn leather. A journal. Caleb’s journal. The first pages were in a strong, elegant hand—entries from before the attack that put him in a coma. Observations on business, sketches of sailing yachts, notes on a violin concerto. Then came the gap. The next entries were different. The writing was faint, tremulous, a spider’s crawl across the page, as if the hand holding the pen fought against immense weight. Day unknown. There is a voice. It reads Dickens. Great Expectations. I hate that book. But I cling to the voice. It is an anchor in the dark.

Alexei mutters. Caleb circles the room like he’s bored, which means he’s thinking. “Well,” he says, clapping once, “another brother walking into the fire. Guess that makes you the martyr.” “I’m not dying,” I say. My voice comes out calm. “I’m upgrading.” Caleb grins. “That’s what they all say... because once you find a mate you have to accept your fate. Now I am the lastman standing...” Alexei laughs from where he’s holding Emmet, who is trying to eat the ring pillow again. “Once Caleb find his mate, He will defeat all of us. Fast. Matebond sealed before any of one us sealed our bond.”

Marcus nodded and left. Caleb sat alone in the council room for a while. Through the window, the pack grounds were gray and still in the late afternoon, the kind of stillness that felt less like peace and more like something holding its breath. He thought about the journal in his desk drawer. The name on the inside front cover. The surname that Gregor had identified and that Caleb had spent two months trying not to think about with any real attention because thinking about it with real attention led somewhere he was not ready to go.

“Hand me that, please.” She gave it to him as he turned back from her and he hugged it as he slept. Monique stays silent as she continues reading. Poor, Caleb. She knew well why he was like that. He came to the castle to search for his mate. The moment he met Reina, he looked cheerful and he told her that she was his mate. She finished reading the book and was ready for another. The door opened as Ciel came to her quickly in excitement but his eyes darkened upon seeing Caleb sleeping, facing the other way.

I asked Duncan as we headed back to the packhouse. “Caleb is a good man. He will be good to her. However, I don’t envy the work he will have in making Bianca trust him. But the bond is strong, and I think it will help them get over it.” “I really hope,” I agreed. “You know, I just recently realized that I don’t really know much about Caleb.” “He is not a man of many words,” he said with a smile. “He came from the west coast. He left his pack when he was 18, on his own accord.”

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•CALEB *•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

I could mask our scents with magic and even hide us from psychic intrusions using spells and protective symbols, but I couldn’t conceal Theo’s eyes. Caleb quickly recovered from his shock, his eyes narrowing. I knew that stubborn look. I saw it on Theo’s face almost weekly, especially when he didn’t want a bath. Seeing the resemblance broke my heart, but not quite as much as Caleb’s rejection had all those years ago. “I’m here to see the psychic,” he said. “No.” “I won’t leave until I talk to them.” He stepped forward, straightening his spine as if going into battle. Why does Caleb want to see Vivian? Doesn’t his pack mystic have the same ability?