by A. E. Via
It wasn’t long before he heard Mac and Farica charging in his direction with the Lord Protector, the guards, and the mercenaries running close behind. Wrath stood waiting for their arrival. Mac’s large white wolf was the first to round the corner, skidding to a stop a few feet from him.
“Do you smell that?” Mac asked through Wolf’s link.
Wrath was slightly entertained. Yeah he did smell the rebels, a long time ago. “I do.”
“They’re either the bravest motherfuckers in the world or the stupidest—”
“Or just plain suicidal, because they run towards their death,” Wrath snapped.
“Yeah, and they stink all to be damned too,” Farica said, panting when she stopped and stood close to Mac. She was already revved to go, “Wrath, Wolf, what’s the plan?”
“The plan is to eliminate this threat for Alek and get a message back to Alessandro Giuliani.”
The vampire guards stopped several yards away when they noticed it was him. Ramon glanced around then frowned, turning worried eyes back to Wrath. He saw the question before the Lord Protector could bother to ask it.
“He’s safe,” Wrath confirmed.
Ramon squinted and touched his palm to his temple as if his head hurt. The older man looked as if he wanted to say more, ask more questions about the whereabouts of his lord, but didn’t want Wrath answering them. As a demigod, he could speak telepathically with any being. When he spoke into another’s mind, he understood it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, so he kept his words to a minimum.
The mercenaries fanned out in a wide arc, preparing to fight. Wrath would admit they were a skilled group of killers, but they had no allegiance, not to the king, and not to the Volkovs, therefore he didn’t trust them. The one wearing black cargo pants and a black crew-neck T-shirt spoke, an angry, vein protruding from his forehead, “We didn’t come here to feed off your scraps.”
“You came because you were paid. Paid to follow my orders. Now, stand down,” Ramon demanded.
The loudmouth leader of the mercs had defiance written all over him. “This time, we’ll handle it.”
Wrath thought that was comical. If they wanted the glory, then they could have it. He only had one job to do and it didn’t necessarily include them. They could do whatever they chose.
Warn them, Alek instructed.
Wrath wished he could roll his eyes. The brash men didn’t deserve a warning. But, if it made Alek feel better… He held his dark muzzle high, sniffing the air to determine just how close the rebels were. It was time. He looked to the mercs, speaking to all of them at once. “Fight with whomever you wish. But stand clear, or you’ll perish on my waves.”
The leader gave him a pointed grin as if he were ready for a real challenge. They could all hear the horde racing towards them now. There were many of them, but no more than they could handle. Wrath felt Wolf’s soul open up and flood his mind with protection and his dynamic conquering spirit. Together, they were the destroyer. Wrath sensed the horde shift in another direction, two groups breaking off to the right and left, in what he felt was an obvious attempt to box them in. After millennia of fighting and war, it was difficult to fool him.
With Farica’s fierce she-wolf flanking his left and Mac’s righteous beast on his six, Wrath sensed them pushing their collective energies towards him in a show of unity. Wrath felt a part of something much bigger than a mere fight, larger than just another battle for him to wreak his havoc on. No. Wrath felt the bond of family for the first time in his long existence.
They are your family now, too, Alek said. His kind heart and compassion engulfing Wrath’s mind. First Belleron and now Alek’s siblings were overwhelming him with… with… good feelings. In complete control, Wrath inhaled deeply then expelled a mass of flames along their right side, cutting off any ambush that could come from that direction. The mercenaries flashed to the other side, cursing and hissing at the sudden display of power, just barely avoiding Wrath’s deadly heatwaves. Acrid, black smoke billowed into the sky as he waited for the remaining rebels to make themselves seen.
“Holy shit!” Mac exclaimed.
“We come to speak about a peaceful resolution,” a raspy voice yelled from deep within the woods. The enemy’s forward progression ended after Wrath’s warning. “We’re not here to fight.”
“Then show your cowardly faces,” Ramon said, standing tall before the king’s disciplined guard, who’d fallen into flawless lines and awaited their orders.
Roughly twenty-five vampires all dressed in similar heavy, dark garments, most of them with scarves draped over their heads and mouths like terrorists, emerged, their steps hesitant and cautious. Wrath growled as he scanned their eyes. The weak attempt at concealing their identities did nothing. He was confident about the intel he’d given Alek moments ago, but he still searched for Alessandro to see if he was blended into the crowd, but he wasn’t there. They smelled like the tombs, the funk lingering on their skin and making it impossible for them to go anywhere undetected.
The rebels stood several feet away. The ones who’d already met Wrath’s barricade were a non-issue, the second group looked to be younger, not the half-comatose prisoners. These were Alessandro’s officers coming to speak on his behalf. Wrath had nothing to say to them. This was a waste of his time, and an insult to him.
“Our leader demands a face-to-face with King Chadwick Bentley. Alessandro Giuliani doesn’t want more bloodshed. He contends that the death of the Lord High was unfortunate, but inevitable. And more deaths will follow you across the seas unless the king comes here… with his shifter beloved.” The designated spokesperson of the group stood in front of the massed vampires, his voice carrying across the small distance. He stopped his well-rehearsed speech, waiting for them to respond.
Wrath’s anger reached a new height at the mention of Belleron. The idiot really thought he’d killed him. Wrath moved forward, his chest heating up to fire his weapon. The audacity of these immortals. Facing the traitorous group, Wrath spoke into their minds, making sure he used his most intimidating thunder.
“You are correct about one thing,” Wrath ignited. “MORE DEATHS ARE SURE TO FOLLOW. STARTING WITH YOUR OWN.”
The spokesman frowned, pressing his thumb into his temple at the pain Wrath’s voice caused him. He and his followers took a couple of steps backwards, as if preparing to retreat. “I’ve come to only deliver a message. This is ludicrous. You cannot harm me. We’re not here to fight.”
Wrath fumed at these so-called negotiations. He didn’t understand this concept, but he’d enlighten them on what he did understand. “In my world… a man is responsible for his own tongue and his own actions,” he addressed the commander of the mercenaries and gave him exactly what he’d come there to do. “Kill them all, leave the messenger for me.”
The mercs didn’t have to be told twice, and neither did Farica and Mac. Their sister was the first to take off towards the woods as the rebels turned on their flash speed and fled in the opposite direction, no doubt realizing they’d made a grave mistake by coming there. Ramon directed the guards to assist, and Wrath had to admit as he watched the king’s army fight, that Belleron had done an outstanding job as general. All of their discipline and skill was his doing.
Wrath heard the screams and hissing of dying vampires reaching him. The rage and anger that accompanied war only gave Wrath more fuel and ammo. He didn’t care that it was wrong to feed off the dying’s pain and misfortune, he couldn’t be bothered with sympathy for them. Alek told him to eliminate all that were a direct threat to them, and so he did. Never was he instructed to negotiate peacefully. That last word left a rotten taste in his mouth.
Wrath heard Farica’s snarls and growls as she emerged from the darkness of the woods with the messenger’s arm embedded in her strong jaws as she dragged him easily across the clearing and dropped him with a heavy thud at Wrath’s feet.
“Well done,” Wolf told his baby sister. Wrath was amazed. The woman was what he called a f
urious flame, a compliment he didn’t give to many.
The mercs flashed out of the forest, looking gratified with blood splattered all over their clothes and faces. “None got away,” the leader assured Wrath.
Wrath nodded once.
Ramon hadn’t said much, he had merely watched the melee unfold as Wrath had done. When his army returned to his side, the designated lieutenant gave a quick report before falling in behind the Lord Protector. “Burn the bodies,” Ramon said, “then report back to base.”
“Don’t kill me.” The young vampire groveled at Wrath’s feet. At some point during his fight with Farica’s wolf, his clothes had been torn to shreds by her claws, his face bore angry red slashes and bruising as his body struggled to heal from the loss of blood. When the vampire rose slowly to look up at Wrath’s face, Farica snapped forward with a vicious bark and clamped down on his shoulder, slamming him back face first to the ground.
She shifted in the blink of an eye and shoved her knee into the messenger’s back and choked him from behind, cutting off his screams. “You keep your head bowed in submission,” she growled in a lethal tone that reminded Wolf of their mother. Wrath felt Alek and Wolf’s pride and love for their sister wash over him. Then he felt it, too—another strange emotion.
“Yes ma’am… just, don’t kill me,” the vampire said, with his mouth buried in sticks and dirt.
Farica got off him when Mac inched forward and took over, putting his snarling muzzle close to the vampire’s throat, warning him not to budge. Farica went to stand behind Wrath, her job complete. He didn’t miss how swiftly the Lord Protector removed his black suit coat and draped it over Farica’s shoulders, covering her naked body.
Wrath was done with this. He dropped his head until his nose was pressed against the side of the vampire messenger’s filthy cheek, burning the skin there. The vampire screamed but was unable to move with Mac’s large wolf on his back. Wrath breathed out, letting his heatwaves singe the vampire’s body, but not enough to kill him. The man’s cries for help were loud, but there was no one left to help him. No one would come.
Wrath turned on his rage, sending it straight into the vampire, letting his energy scorch his mind. “You tell Alessandro the Conqueror that his destroyer awaits.”
The vampire begged Wrath to stop speaking, to release his fire as his body convulsed from the excruciating agony.
“NO MORE MESSENGERS WHILE HE HIDES IN THE SHADOWS!” Wrath raged on. “You tell him I said to come to me BOLDLY, for I won’t receive him any other way.”
“Yes! Yessss,” the man whimpered.
Bell’s teeth chattered so hard he feared he was in jeopardy of chipping a fang. He couldn’t believe he’d been left up in a tree like this. While he may not have been strong enough to fight beside Wolf yet, he still could’ve stood with his army. All he could do was listen to the feud go on without him. It was interesting that he knew his beloved was down there under attack, yet he wasn’t the least bit worried.
He heard the leaves rustling and branches snapping before Wrath’s fiery eyes came into view. No longer in his wolf form, the asshole had the audacity to have a smug grin as he crawled close to where Bell lay shivering.
“Hey little bird.” Wrath chuckled.
Bell gave Wrath his most intimidating scowl, trying to appear scary, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the glistening muscles all over Wrath’s long body. Bell held in his moan, clamping down on his bottom lip when his cock hardened beneath the heavy cover. Damnit. He was angry and he wanted to stay that way.
“Why do you look at me like this?” Wrath rumbled, sliding up behind Bell and wrapping him in his arms.
He didn’t know why he was gazing on the demigod with such passion, maybe because Wrath was in Alek’s body. He had no idea. But whatever the reasons, he was helpless to stop them. Bell whispered, “What are you doing?”
“You’re cold, fragile mate… let me warm you.” Wrath’s voice was silky smooth and darker than the darkest night. Too damn hypnotic for Bell to fuss about the fragile mate comment.
He gave a full-on shudder and Bell wasn’t sure if it was from the heat that’d suddenly encompassed his back, then spread through the rest of his body, or if it was the way Wrath’s hot voice licked over his cool cheek. It was as if someone had turned his cold blanket into an electric one.
“Better?” Wrath asked, his lips just behind Bell’s ear.
Gods, so warm.
“Alek will be livid if I let you freeze.”
Yes, he felt much better, and he had stopped shaking, but he wasn’t ready to move either. “A-almost.”
Somehow, Wrath pulled him even closer. He felt him gingerly touch his hair then tuck a long lock of it behind his ear. Wrath rose on his elbow so that he was looking down on Bell. The intensity of those electrifying eyes burned into his cheek, and with the most delicate of touches, Wrath lifted Bell’s brilliant streak of white hair and slowly let the soft strands filter through his fingers, before repeating it over and over again. With his eyes transfixed there, he asked, “Which one of them kissed you, Belleron?”
Bell didn’t understand the question Wrath was asking. “What?”
“The gods. There are so many of them that could’ve done this to you—Hindu, Greek or maybe one of the selfless Mayan gods. They love to spread their beauty around.” Wrath’s voice had turned husky, “Your pretty, white hair, Belleron. How did you get it? Was it from Selene, the silvery moon goddess?”
Bell maneuvered until he was lying on his back. Wrath didn’t budge, keeping his warm thigh resting very close to his sensitive balls. Bell swallowed roughly, not knowing what Wrath was talking about, but didn’t interrupt him for fear he’d stop touching him. Wrath continued to ramble, getting lost in Bell’s tresses while he thought of the different gods and goddesses.
“Maybe Aphrodite—the beautiful seductress that she is—has shown you her favor.” Wrath ran the pad of his warm thumb down the side of Bell’s face until he reached his chin. He cupped Bell’s jaw and lifted his face until their mouths were only inches apart. “I believe it was Chaac, the Mayan god of storms, with his thunder-gray eyes, ” Wrath marveled. “Yes. He had to be the god that created such perfection.”
“Chaac.” Bell whispered. He wracked his brain trying to remember any literature on that name but nothing was coming to mind. There were over two hundred and fifty Mayan gods within the complex and changeable pantheon, therefore it was impossible for him to know of every one. He was certain his family had never mentioned that name before. “Tell me about him.”
Wrath continued to stare for a moment as if he was lost in Bell’s presence when it should’ve been the other way around. He didn’t know what it was that Wrath saw when he gazed at him that way but he wanted it to continue. “In your eyes I see brighter days beyond the storm.”
Bell blinked rapidly. He didn’t recall ever seeing anything like that when he looked in the mirror.
Without warning, Wrath sat up and gathered Bell into his arms, appearing slightly disappointed. “Alek is coming back. Let me get you down. I can feel you’re almost fully healed, Belleron. Now you can mate. Alek seems content on delaying the bonding even longer, but I know a way you can put an end to that.”
Before Bell could say anything, Wrath hefted him into his strong arms and shot them back to the ground and towards the secluded cottage.
Alek woke feeling well rested but very hungry, or was famished more like it? He’d been expecting Bell to give him an earful about Wrath’s decision to tuck him away in a tree last night but he hadn’t. He’d simply fed again and settled into Alek’s embrace, falling into a sound sleep in minutes.
He reached for his watch on the nightstand and groaned when he realized he’d slept longer than intended. It was already going on one o’clock in the afternoon. Damn, had they both been that exhausted? Maybe so. Alek left Bell nestled in the crook of his armpit while he lay on his back, taking a moment to stretch. He pressed his thumb and middle finge
r into his eyes, clearing the lingering fuzziness from his vision. When Bell shifted against him, the silky material of his pajama pants brushed his hip, making his already plump cock jerk beneath the thin cotton of his shorts. Alek closed his eyes and counted down from twenty while trying to think of anything nonsexual.
Bell didn’t appear too concerned with Alek’s predicament as he lazily rotated his hips, while easing his hand up his chest until he got to his throat. Bell caressed his neck and Alek couldn’t hold back a second longer. He turned and curled Bell into him, draping one of his thighs over him to keep him from escaping. Alek dragged his nose along Bell’s temple while he ran his fingers through his hair.
“Mmmm.” Bell hummed when Alek buried his hand deep into his locks and palmed the back of his head, driving him closer to his rapid pulse, swallowing at the anticipation of that potent bite.
“Drink all you want.” Alek didn’t think he’d be so turned on to bare his throat.
Bell licked his Adam’s apple, “You always think I want to eat.”
“I’m just making sure you’re satisfied,” Alek answered, sounding way too groggy for afternoon. His internal clock was all fucked up on this side of the pond.
“Then satisfy me,” Bell said softly, his hand leaving Alek’s throat and trailing down his abdomen until he was at the waistband of his boxers. “Give me this.” Bell dug inside and gripped the head of Alek’s dick, making him thrust his hips up to get more. Shit. He had to control himself.
“It’s okay.” Bell moaned, still sounding half asleep, starting a slow drag up Alek’s shaft, making him grit his teeth to keep from yelling. “I feel much better.”
Alek’s eyes rolled behind his lids. Why did Bell continue to do this to him? A man was only so fucking strong. Fuck. He reached down and stilled Bell’s movements, the act taking a lot more restraint than he thought. Alek panted through the mate-lust attacking his senses. “I won’t risk hurting you.”