by A. E. Via
All vampires knew the markings of death.
“You have questions you wanted to ask to my face, General.” Adres released a fraction of his power and shot it at the general as not to affect the others. He was old enough to faze with intimidation, a trait passed through his lineage that served him well.
The general bolted his chair away from the table and clutched his chest as if he’d been stabbed. The betas in the room moved closer towards their alphas, but Justice was quick to wave them off.
Adres rounded the table. “Ask your questions, General … if you dare.”
“I do not wish to quarrel with you, my Lord.”
I would not want to quarrel with me, either.
“But I was called here—on emergency—to discuss the possibility of war,” he gasped, fear piercing each word. “And you are the Lord of Arms.”
Adres stopped twenty feet from the general, just the distance he needed to throw his trench knife through his heart. “And…”
“And why… I mean, how did you…” The vampire’s uneasy gaze darted back and forth between Adres and the king, realization dawning that he was alone. “How did you end up in the exact place that the attack occurred?”
“Enough.” Belleron stood. He glanced at the king, receiving an almost imperceptible nod from his friend before he continued. “General Telek Denys, you are dismissed from this meeting and any future strategy sessions.” The vampire sputtered as Belleron added, “You are hereby demoted to corporal of the Northern Infantry Battalion.”
“This is absurd!” The vampire’s chest began to heave, his gaze lasering in on the king. “I have served in this court for over three hundred years. I was a major in your father’s personal guard. And you have the audacity to allow your second to dismiss me so flippantly.”
“Your opinions were once valued and considered wise,” Wick said calmly.
“Until…?” The general seethed.
“Until you decided to forsake a god in our very presence.” Belleron finished. “Your life is cursed.”
“He”—the general thrust his pointer finger towards Adres’s chest, and he was tempted to sever his hand at the wrist but he refrained— “is no god.”
“Correct. Adres Cavalerie is not a god. But he did pray to one on the battlefield. And a god answered.” Belleron moved around the table until he was standing behind his cherished, Aleksei Volkov, with his hand on his broad shoulder. “You were ignorant to challenge my decision to make Adres my lord, implying he tricked me into doing so. But are you that foolish to forget my beloved?”
Aleksei placed his hand over his mate’s and glanced up at him with crystal-blue eyes and a peaceful smile on his handsome face. But when he turned back to the general, Aleksei was gone, and Belleron’s other mate was in his place. Telek recoiled at the eyes that were on him—pitch-blackness except for the outer ring of smoldering flames that were his irises. The freezing cavern became engulfed in heat, and condensation began to drip down the stone crevices, creating puddles on the floor.
“You are suggesting that my beloved was also deceived.”
A demigod that could summon the flames of the underworld had just been called a fool. No one dared move.
“Wrath.” The general fell to his knees with his forehead touching the floor. His perspiration had already soaked through his expensive suit as he pleaded for leniency. Adres wanted to slash his blade across the vampire’s throat and end his shame. “Forgive me. I only speak of the Cavalerie… not of you, my Lord. Mercy… please.”
Wrath stood to his full height, triggering a domino effect as every officer, shifter, alpha, and vampire in the room stood and bowed at the fire-god’s appearance. Adres noticed that Wrath was a couple of inches taller than Aleksei. Also, his stubbled jaw was sharper, his chest broader, and his aura far darker than the alpha he possessed.
With each step Wrath took, the general flinched. His voice was the sound of raw power, his tone laced with rage and hate. Others in the room covered their ears or glanced away, but Adres was mesmerized. And again, he felt that pang of familiarity in the demigod’s presence, as if he and Wrath had history. Maybe during a time in his life that had been imprisoned by the curse.
“I felt Cavalerie’s rage tonight,” Wrath said, his voice echoing around them. “It was intense and genuine. I did not know at the time what triggered it. It is not my will to justify the anger. But I assure you… I. Was. Not. Tricked.”
Wrath touched his fingertip to the side of the general’s mouth, singeing the pale skin. Most of the vampires cringed at the shrill scream that left their comrade as Wrath rained down punishment fitting for a dishonest tongue. “Now, I have answered his prayer for vengeance twice tonight.”
Macauley walked with his brother Aleksei back towards the main compound. His siblings and the rest of the pack had gone far enough ahead that Macauley could have a private conversation with his older brother.
“I had a feeling you wanted to talk to me.” Aleksei glanced at him. “That was the most I’ve ever seen you say at a meeting. Well. More like, growl, snarl, and snap.”
Macauley ran his hand through his messy hair since he hadn’t had time to comb it after his shower. He probably looked like shit, but he didn’t care. There was so much going on in his mind, and he had more questions than he knew where to start. But his brother had been there tonight—in a sense—so starting with him was as good a place as any.
“Why did Wrath come to Adres like that? What did he feel from him?”
Macauley stopped and leaned against a tree, waiting for the rest of the pack to go a little farther. Farica turned and watched them for a moment before she blew them both a kiss and headed towards her cabin. He felt her soothing presence wash over his uncertainty, but it couldn’t take it away.
“I don’t know why Wrath felt that pull to him. All I know is Bell and I were in bed, and next thing I know, Wrath said he needed to shift.” Aleksei shrugged, gazing at the cloudless sky that would soon be brightening at the coming of the dawn.
“You don’t know! But… but I thought that you and Wrath and your wolf had connected again.”
Aleksei chuckled. It was a sound that Macauley was still getting used to. His older brother used to be so carefree and the life of the pack, until the attack happened and Wrath had had to make the choice to kill their mother in order to save Aleksei’s life. The Mother had placed Wrath inside Aleksei when he was a young pup for a reason, but it hadn’t been for that. It’d been for the prophesy. But Aleksei couldn’t forgive Wrath or his wolf for letting their mother die. And it had taken years for them all to trust each other and become one again. It’d taken their mate.
“What I do know is that Wrath hasn’t felt rage like that in a long time.” Aleksei smirked. “He’ll be insatiable for the rest of the week.”
“Okay, that I didn’t need to know.”
“What’s going on, Mac? Why are you so crazy about this, guy, hmm?” Aleksei crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s not your mate, so what’s up? It doesn’t sound like you’re still suspicious of him because it was obvious you didn’t like that general questioning Adres’s motive?”
That’s right. No one can give Adres shit but me. Fuck, that was ridiculous. “I don’t fuckin’ know, Alek. Something is wrong… something’s off.”
“What do you mean?” Alek frowned. “You can tell me. I’ll have your back no matter what. You flew in a jet to the other side of the world to help me rescue my mate. I kinda owe ya, don’t you think?”
“Hell yeah, you do.” Macauley snorted. He’d never forget the terror he and Farica had felt at being confined in a steel trap with wings, forty-five thousand feet off the ground.
“So…” his brother prompted, but Macauley didn’t know where to start.
What could he say? I think I’ve found my mate, but I’m not a hundred percent sure like any other alpha would be. Shit. He’d be the laughingstock of his pack, not to mention his brothers. How could he bear the name of Volkov and
not be able to scent and claim his mate?
“Mac. What is it?”
Macauley bit the inside of his cheek to keep from confessing like he wanted. Not yet. He had to do more reconnaissance. “I need to know what Wrath felt when Adres prayed to him.”
“What… why?” A deep frown creased Aleksei’s brow.
“I just need to. I need to know if he felt something there.”
After a few long seconds of silence, Aleksei finally answered him. “Wrath and I are connected, but when he controls the surface, I can fully retreat. And I prefer to when he has to kill.”
“Damnit.” Macauley grunted.
His brother gripped him behind his neck, and his wolf embraced the comfort of another alpha. “If you really wanna know what Wrath is feeling… then you should ask his mate. Besides, it was Belleron who told Wrath to spare the general’s life tonight, not me. Without our mate… Wrath knows no mercy.”
Belleron.
He watched Aleksei continue along the well-worn path towards Justice’s house. As the second oldest, and next in succession of Alpha Zenith, he and Justice often had conversations that excluded the younger siblings. And they were all fine with that. They each had their role in the pack. Macauley hurried home, making a plan to speak to Belleron first thing after he woke.
His cabin sat on a lush piece of land near his shop at the edge of the main compound. Because his specialty was carpentry and construction, his house was one of the nicer cabins. He should’ve been modest in his building, but the project had grown beyond his control until the next thing he’d known he had a second level with a master suite and a spa-style bathroom, two bedrooms on the first floor, each with its own private bath, a living room, and den. He’d always thought he’d have a family and a few pups running around at some point, but he was also more than happy playing uncle to the many kids he saw every day.
It was almost five in the morning, and he was beyond exhausted. He should’ve thanked Wrath for disrupting the meeting when he had, or else Justice wouldn’t have called it to an end until they had a solution. But no one could concentrate after the general had been taken to the infirmary.
Macauley grabbed a couple of bottles of water, ignoring his rumbling stomach, and took the stairs three at a time. He drank them down before he even finished removing his boots and jeans. His T-shirt had barely hit the floor before his cheek was smashed against one of his pillows.
He lay in bed with thoughts of Adres plaguing him. His gray-and-black hair, his scarred face, his voice, and the way he could project his power… like him. Macauley’s dick had been painfully hard when he dozed off, envisioning Adres’s coal-black eyes as he’d promised him vengeance.
And a god had answered him.
Though Macauley couldn’t see all of Adres’s soul, it had to be righteous if it could draw the favor of a god. Especially one as selective as Wrath. And with that lone, comforting thought, Macauley drifted into a peaceful rest.
He couldn’t have been asleep for more than half an hour when his wolf jolted him awake to alert him that he was no longer alone. He had company, but he wasn’t in danger. Macauley rubbed at the exhaustion in his gritty eyes. When he opened them fully, there he was, as dark as night, standing at his bedside. “Adres,” he whispered.
He hadn’t been startled; he wasn’t even upset that Adres had invaded his private space without so much as a knock on his front door. It was because he didn’t mind him being there. Macauley sat up and let the sheet fall from his chest to his lap. Adres’s heated gaze followed, then locked on the bunched-up material over his dick. He couldn’t see those onyx pupils, but he could sure feel them on his body.
Adres had the most unexplainable presence.
“You are in bed.”
Fuck, his voice sounded sexy. Or was it because Macauley was aroused? And not just a little turned on. He had to clench his jaw and groan through the discomfort before he could speak. “Yes. Not many of us are up at this hour.” Macauley grabbed his cell phone off his nightstand. “Speaking of which… what are you doing out? The sun will be up soon.”
“I know. I will only be a moment. However, I needed to come see you.”
Macauley swallowed, his heart racing. “Why?”
“You were speaking privately with your brother after the meeting, so I could not…”
“Yes, you could have.” Macauley threw his legs over the side of the bed. “I think we do need to speak.”
Adres was stock-still for a moment before he seemed to snap himself out of his haze. “I came to warn you.”
“About what?” Macauley scented the air but smelled nothing, causing an angry growl to tear from his throat. “You are blocking me.”
“It is a lifelong habit, young wolf. It was not intentional.”
This time when Macauley inhaled, he caught the scent of leather and a hint of something sweet. Just that small taste of Adres’s true nature made his head spin, along with the rest of the room. Macauley crowded in close, though he didn’t feel himself moving, and Adres didn’t retreat. “I meant to tell you before you were whisked away from the meeting by Bell…”
“Tell me what,” Adres breathed.
“I wanted to tell you… thank you. Thank you for saving me tonight. I was alone out there, and if my brothers had come, or my betas… they would’ve…”
“Killed you all.” Adres’s tone turned gravelly as he glanced away. “I do not know what I would have done.”
“What made you bring me that man’s head?”
“I need to go.” Adres frowned as he turned towards the bedroom door.
“It was something else driving you tonight, wasn’t it?” Macauley closed the distance Adres had put between them. He ran the back of his palm over the leather buckles of Adres’s armor. “You can’t explain it. And it’s making you mad.”
Adres exhaled slowly, then placed his hand over Macauley’s where it rested in the center of his chest. “No, I can’t explain the peace I feel when you touch me. And until I do… I want you to stay out of the woods.”
“I do not get told where I can and can’t go on my own land.”
Adres’s scent changed to something spicy and strangling. His eyes flashed with a sharp white light before they returned to black. Their chests were pressed against each other, and Adres’s cool breath ghosted over his chin as he repeated his order. “I said to stay out of the woods until I secure your territory, Macauley.” Adres’s lips curled into an intimidating snarl, but all Macauley felt was amazement. “My word is final.”
Adres was gone before Macauley could blink, leaving him feeling chilled and alone. His wolf howled long and sad inside his chest, urging him to follow, but all he could do was flop back onto his mattress and stare at his ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief.
No other individual on the Mother’s green earth could speak to him in such a way that would evoke such emotion. Adres’s words had ignited a kind of lust and hunger that he’d never felt before. Not only his beast, but his entire being hollered at once…
Mate!
Adres had paced back and forth across the lush carpet in his new living quarters so much that it was practically threadbare. He lived in a nice cabin that was two and a half miles away from the main compound in the heavily shaded area of Justice’s territory.
Two miles too far away from the young wolf.
King Bentley had arranged for his personal guard, which included the Legion Special Forces and one hundred soldiers… and now a horseman, to live in the luxurious barracks that had more amenities than a four-star hotel. The officers’ homes were set up several yards away from the barracks, one cabin occupied by the Lord Protector and the other by him. It was a comfortable enough residence, but it was nothing compared to his Romanian home nestled within the Apuseni Mountains, but it would suffice.
He should try to close his eyes and slumber after tonight’s events, but he was still quite restless. He’d barely fed since he’d arrived last week, and as he sat at the foot of
the plush bed, he realized his body was weary, but it was his mind that would not stop. He rubbed his bare chest, his fingertips grazing over ugly, puckered flesh. He had so many scars and blemishes he wondered how he had let his foolish head conclude that he may have found his cherished. Adres was hideous inside and out.
But he had wanted the beautiful wolf to see more.
Adres got beneath the gray silk sheets and pulled them up to his waist. The soft material felt nice on his legs, but he kept imagining what the thick ivory covers on Macauley’s bed felt like. He was so handsome and innocent while he’d slept.
Adres had entered Macauley’s warm home with every intention on telling him goodbye, but the closer he got to his overwhelming scent, to his bedroom, the more his mind screamed that he was doing the wrong thing. His body was telling him to run in the other direction and get as far away from this place as possible, but the emptiness in his heart propelled him forward. Until the only instinct he felt was to protect him at all costs. He’d stood over Macauley while he rested peacefully, his animal sensing no alarm, allowing him the few stolen moments to look his fill before he opened his eyes.
The moment Macauley had touched Adres’s chest, the buzzing under his skin had stopped. The urge to drop all of his shields and armor at the alpha’s feet had overwhelmed him until goose bumps had prickled over his skin like furry filaments from a dandelion. He had never felt such wholesome integrity or wanted to. He was tainted, his immortal soul lost forever. He did not deserve such goodness.
Yet there he lay wide-awake at the peak of the day, craving it.
Adres’s tongue was dry and swollen in his mouth, his throat parched from his hunger. He was still confused that the little blood he’d drank last night had had no taste and had given him no sustenance, yet he had been seconds away from sinking his fangs into Macauley’s throat each time he had growled in his face, the rich scent of his blood beckoning him. And it was not only Macauley’s blood that he craved, but it was also that frustratingly righteous energy that made…