by A. E. Via
“I will be fine, you know that.” Adres whistled for his horse. Once Război flashed to his side, he leapt onto his back. “I need to push them further away. They’re too close.” Adres dropped down on the side of Război’s flank as a flurry of darts pelted off him. “Go, now!”
Macauley hesitated a second before he ran off, the poisonous darts being shot at him bouncing off the protective ward. Adres could hear a wave of movement coming in his direction as he summoned energy from his light. His core burned hot as he flung his arm forward, his gale force winds blowing past him and into the woods. Dirt, debris, and shrubbery were hurled across the earth, propelling his enemies farther back as he prepared to charge forward.
Before he could kick Război into motion, horrified screams rang out from the compound as the intruder alarm finally sounded from the Osceola Mountain top. Adres almost dropped his Hwando as a crippling wave of dread and pain enveloped his mind. Macauley! he blared through their link as he flashed towards the compound.
Adres was devastated at what he saw. He had only been gone a moment, but it was long enough for the pack lands to be ambushed.
The ground trembled, and Adres turned at the sound of a snarling black wolf. Adres held the reins in one hand and his weapon in the other, charging towards Wrath just as he tore the body of an assassin in half. His friend was a different kind of fighter in this form but no less deadly.
There is a sorcerer behind this. Wrath’s voice in his mind made his temples pound. Look at the sky.
The lights that once illuminated the courtyard had been burned out, and a dark veil of evil covered the territory, plummeting them into blackness. It was enough to disorient and frighten the shifters, sending them fleeing towards their cabins. Wrath and Belleron fought together while Adres searched for Macauley as more searing dread pierced his heart.
He rode across the grounds, swatting darts out of midair while he shielded some of the enforcers who had made their way to the fight. It wasn’t until he’d rounded the corner to Justice’s cabin that he saw the source of his anguish.
Macauley and Justice were on their hands and knees, crouched over their sister’s lifeless body. It looked as if she’d been struck in her chest with multiple darts as soon as she stepped out of the front door. They had been defenseless. Her betas and guards knelt nearby, crying as they tried to stay out of the line of fire, but not leave their alpha.
Taleb ran over, his guards moving with him as he fell to Farica’s side and yanked the three darts from her body. Justice noticed the moment Adres threw a shield around them as he got to his feet. “We need the pack doctors now!” he hollered.
Adres feared that wasn’t possible.
“Protect the cabins,” Justice told his enforcers as he covered his baby sister’s body with his own.
Adres could feel the devastation in his mate as he brought Farica’s limp hand to his cheek, begging her to keep breathing.
Get her inside, beloved.
Out of the corner of his eye, Adres saw two wolves leap and somersault to avoid the shots flying in their direction as they ran for safety. Adres threw his sword towards the hooded vampires who flashed after them, the blade cutting clear through their bodies before it came back towards him. The leather-bound handle slammed into his palm with so much force that it caused Război to rear up on his hind legs to prevent it from propelling them backwards.
The king had been at his beloved’s side, but the enforcers began to get overrun as more assassins descended from the forest in droves—making their final stand. Wick shifted into his white tiger and attacked two vampires just before they reached where Justice had been standing, their crossbows falling to the ground. Adres searched for the legion amidst the chaos of coven officers protecting their leaders.
He found the king’s elite forces near the blood mobiles, fighting off multiple assassins who were trying to get inside them, most likely to destroy the results of the prophesy.
With the Volkov alphas mentally incapacitated, half the battle was already won.
Fueled by adrenaline, Adres charged forward and used his wards to shield the legion as he blasted a force of his wind at the assassins that knocked them off their feet. Before they could flash away, he shot his sword out again and watched it sail through the air at its targets, severing their heads, their crossbows falling to the ground.
The scent of demon blood invaded his senses, and the light within his sword burned brighter.
“Protect the king’s beloved and his home,” Adres ordered the legion.
“We will stay and guard the mobiles.” Asa and Azriel stood back-to-back with their daggers in their hands. “Our officers will protect the cabins.”
Adres nodded and turned towards the forest, trying to trace the source of the evil. He would need to cut off the head of the snake, or else they would fall. Already multiple shifters and vampires lay on the ground with poison coursing through their systems and killing them slowly.
A pained howl wrenched the air, and Adres spun in time to see Wrath fall to the ground in Belleron’s arms with two darts piercing his hindquarters. Either fight to the end or be killed on the ground beneath his cherished, Belleron leapt to his feet, striking and killing all who surrounded him with his cane-sword, his movements so fast and precise they were a blur. His waist-length onyx hair flew around his face as he swung his blade in powerful strikes, making dark, foul-scented blood spray in arcs across the grass.
Gods help us, Adres prayed. He needed to get to the cowardly sorcerer, wherever he was hiding, while he possessed vampires to do his evil, but he found himself at his friend’s side, shielding him and his mate. The evil looming over their heads was familiar in an unsettling way. He’d combated this kind of wickedness before… and he’d lost years of his life as a result.
He could not lose his young wolf. Not now. Not ever.
Wick appeared at their side and joined in the fight, the three of them surrounding Wrath while he lay prone on the ground.
“Can you use your waves?” Adres gritted out, flashing back and forth between two vampires with blank, unseeing eyes and decaying, pointy sneers as they attacked him from both sides. Their screams were cut short in a gurgle of blood as bone crunched under his blade.
No. It is Aleksei, Wrath answered, his voice laced with pain. He grieves for his sister. He has separated from me, wanting to be by her side.
Adres dropped to one knee and put his hand in Wrath’s dense black fur, his fingers knocking off embers of fire as he felt for his pulse.
I can burn off the poison from the darts, but… Wrath grunted. I cannot project my heat.
La naiba! Adres ducked as a vampire dove towards him from behind. Belleron caught the vile creature in midair with one hand and crushed his throat before he tossed it to the side like garbage. They were beginning to get overwhelmed, and Adres didn’t know how well Asa and Azriel were faring on keeping the assassins from getting to the cabins. He had sworn an oath to protect this pack and to guard Belleron and the king with his life.
Until the end.
He felt his cherished invade his mind and wrap his strength around his, targeting his soul. I am with you, mate.
Adres looked towards the angry sky as he searched for an answer.
Pray to your brothers, Wrath growled. They will feel the distress in your wind. Just as they did when the sorcerer last came for you. But now you have connected your light with the righteous one. Belleron was struck across his back before Wick swiped his massive claw out and tore open the assassin’s chest. Wrath roared in Adres’s mind, searing his thoughts with battle rage. Call for your brothers!
It was their last chance. Adres pulled on his wind with all of his might as he whispered into the steel of his blade, “Horsemen,” and shot his energy in the remaining three cardinal directions.
It was seconds before a blinding light pierced the darkness from the north, south, and east. A whirlwind formed in the sky as three hooded figures on horseback exploded through the veil
of evil. Their combined winds enveloped the sorcerer’s wards until it disintegrated and rained over the compound like ashes. The possessed vampires crumpled into heaps of bone and ash, no longer controlled by sorcery.
Adres watched his brothers approach from all directions, until they came together and landed on the ground with such force that the earth quaked as far as the peaks of the mountaintops.
I am not looking forward to this, Wrath grumbled. He attempted to stand but was still too weak. Belleron crouched over his cherished and extended his sword as the men galloped towards them.
“He is the one that sent you to the underworld, yes,” Belleron grated, his hard gaze on the brother in the middle. His sky-blue robe flew out behind him on his easterly winds, the only parts of him visible were his tattooed hands and the determined grimace stretching his wide mouth. Zepharali Cavalerie.
Notalus was a couple paces behind him on the left, his emerald-green cape dragging the earth as he stood in his horse’s saddle, crouched in a perfect fighting stance. His hood was lying over the bridge of his nose as he wielded a Hwando sword in each fist.
The Lord of the North’s light flung his blizzard-white robe off one of his shoulders and drew a spear from behind his back that shone a brilliant gold before it extended five feet in his hand. It had been too long since Adres had laid eyes on his middle brother, Boraleashe.
Notalus dismounted his horse in mid-run and bolted into Adres’s arms. He and his baby brother had always been the closest. As the light guardian of the south winds, Notalus’s core radiated a warm comfort that matched his own. “Orestes. It was a relief to feel your wind again.” He leaned back and gripped him on his shoulders, his mossy-green eyes roaming his face. “Even your distressed one.”
“I can see this time you are prepared, brother.” Boraleashe eased off his pearl stallion with the grace of an angel, not like the seven-foot Titan that he was.
Though Adres was the oldest and more serious of all his brothers, even the lesser winds, Boraleashe was the most disciplined.
“It is your destiny.”
Notalus glanced towards the mountains where a shadowy figure fled in the opposite direction. “He must not escape this time, Orestes. You have what you need to defeat him. Your light is clearer and greater than it has ever been.”
Adres threw a protective shield around his friend—who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but near Zepharali—as Belleron and Wick rushed Wrath into the house.
Adres stood amongst his brothers, harnessing the wind that bolted from their weapons. It’d been centuries since they’d fought together, even longer since Adres had wielded such strength. His body shook with the force to control it as he felt Macauley ease his righteous energy towards him. Adres gripped his sword, placing the cold steel to his lips and whispering the curse of death into the blade. He summoned a tornado with their collective powers that was so devastating that he struggled to contain it.
Notalus’s swords shimmered with bronze light, his words floating around him. “Steady, brother. We are with you.”
And my love is with you too, mate.
Warmth and goodness were pushed into his heart as a jolt of strength and courage hit his core. An image of Macauley’s growling beast flashed before his eyes, and Adres shot his sword into the mountains, sending all of his force and wind behind it.
His weapon tore through the trees towards the shade that had almost reached the territory border. Mere seconds went by before Adres felt his blade make contact. The twister ravaged the mountain, drilling through its core and taking his enemy down with it. To the Underworld.
Adres had lost this battle once because he had been alone. Because he had been outside of the order of the prophesy. He was not meant to go against the sorcerer that brings devastation to their species until he had been touched with love. And it had cost him over three hundred years.
But the prophecy was predestined by fate. Even if it was delayed a while, history had shown that it would always come to pass. She would always have her way.
Macauley pulled Adres into his arms as soon as he stepped through the front door of Justice’s home. His exhaustion was evident, but he stood strong against him with his arms around his waist.
I am okay, young wolf.
I know. I had no doubt that you wouldn’t be.
Adres turned his face into his throat and inhaled. I love you too.
Macauley squeezed him tighter, relieved that the battle was over but still crippled with fear for his sister.
How is she?
Orion is with her. He said the fairies gave him the ability to heal. Macauley’s hands trembled. He’s still working on her. It… it was a lot of poison.
Macauley felt Adres’s guilt and regret like acid in his stomach. He cupped his cheek and tilted his mate’s flushed face towards him. “Don’t. Do that.” He kissed him, lingering on his cool lips to soak up some of his comfort. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“She’s awake!” Ramon blurted, flashing into the entryway. “And she’s okay.”
Farica! Farica! Macauley tried his link to his sister for the millionth time and slumped against the wall when she finally answered.
Ouch! Stop yelling at me, Mac. I have the worst fuckin headache.
Macauley released a fatigued laugh as he hurried into the living room, almost dragging Adres behind him. Farica was lying on the couch with her eyes closed, but she wasn’t ghostly pale anymore, and she was lazily stroking Ramon’s cheek with one hand where he knelt beside her.
Orion had his hand over her heart, his head bowed as if he were praying while Henry and Taleb embraced him from behind. A faint purplish glow radiated beneath his palm until Farica blinked her long lashes and smiled into Ramon’s watery eyes.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, and Adres put his hand up at the shocked expression on Justice’s face as he stared at the immaculately dressed Titans standing in his living room. Adres introduced them by name and the direction they hailed.
Justice’s enforcers assembled around him and his sister. “Thank you for your assistance. We have never faced a threat of this magnitude before.”
“It was not your battle to fight, Alpha Zenith. The sorcerer of strife can only be defeated by a Titan or a giant.” Boraleashe—as he was introduced—glanced around the room, as if he was taking in everything he saw, including Orion. Their skin was the same creamy pearlescent complexion and hair the color of new-fallen snow. “I am glad your sister is healed.”
Zepharali walked past Justice, his long blue shawl trailing on a warm summer breeze behind him. Macauley was stunned when he knelt behind Ramon, where his head lay on Farica’s chest and drove his long fingers through his hair. “She is not your cherished,” he spoke in a romantic, silky tone, “but she can be. If she so chooses.”
“Yes,” Farica croaked, as if she wanted to shout it but couldn’t, so she went with nodding profusely. “Gods, yes. Please.”
“My summer light brings the blossom of new love and passion.” Zepharali caressed Farica’s cheek, whatever was radiating from his touch making her lean farther into it. “Why do you think there are so many June weddings?”
Farica smiled, her serene chuckle filtering around the room and doing what it had always done for the pack—easing their worry. Macauley felt their sibling link spark with love and tranquility as the Lord of Summer’s winds bathed his sister in a powder-blue aura that traveled over her body.
Orion pulled his hand away and opened his eyes. Macauley frowned at how calm he was. He didn’t appear surprised by Adres and his brothers as he stood and bowed in their directions, as if he’d been expecting them all along. He wondered if perhaps Orion knew them?
Adres answered his thought. He has our blood inside of him. I believe he has always sensed us around him. Even from the Monstrous Reef.
“Your pack doctors are tending to your shifters, Alpha. My south winds bring the fall season and the beginning of new life. I will assist them to ensure they are well
and your lands are repaired,” Notalus said gently.
“Blessings, thank you.” Justice clasped his hands in front of him and gave them each a respectable nod.
Boraleashe turned to Adres and put his hand on his shoulder. “We will see you again, Orestes.”
“Indeed.” Adres clutched his brother’s hand.
“And if we send for your wind,” he asked.
Adres was staring into Macauley’s eyes when he answered, “Then my young wolf and I will answer the call.”
Macauley dropped onto the couch and reclined his head back on the cushions. “My gods, I thought this night would never end.”
“Agreed.” Adres removed his cover and jacket and settled onto his lap. Something he only did when they were alone.
“And thank the gods that everyone is okay.” Macauley stroked Adres’s back. “What started out as one of the greatest nights in our history turned out to be one of the scariest.”
Adres tucked his face against his throat. “I’m just glad Wrath and Farica are okay. And no lives were lost.”
Macauley chuckled. “Farica is more than okay. She and Ramon are probably packing as we speak.”
He felt Adres’s lips curve against his throat. “Where do you think they’re going?”
“Who knows. I honestly don’t wanna think of my sister and her mating, okay?”
“Okay.” Adres nestled closer. “What do you want to think about instead? Shower… then bed.”
“Or…” Macauley ran his hand through Adres’s windswept hair and pulled so he could have his mouth, whispering as he licked his way inside. “We can plan our own vacation. Someplace with no snow.”
Adres released a gritty chuckle that made Macauley rear back as if he’d been hit. “What?” Adres rumbled, gazing into his eyes.
“You know what…” Macauley shook his head in wonder. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh.”
“I did not—”
Macauley cut off his denial with another kiss. “Come on… let’s do it.”