Prophesy Book III

by A. E. Via

  An uncomfortable sensation had been under Adres’s skin ever since he’d arrived a week ago, but he chalked it up to being on Mother Nature’s blessed land. He felt certain enough with his powerful shield that no one could smell the stench of the curse on his soul, but he wasn’t around ordinary alphas now. And there was one particular brother who continued to give Adres problems.

  “Zeii, you want to consume the entire lake?” Adres stared in disbelief as his horse drank thirstily. He had sent for him and the rest of his important belongings the day after his swearing-in by the king. “Certainly, you cannot be that parched. We have only been walking the grounds a few—”

  Război stepped away from the water and slowly rotated his head a hundred and eighty degrees, his ears twitching.

  “I heard it too, Răz. But, there is no need for alarm here.” Adres could lower his voice until his words were nothing but slivers of breath he manipulated on the wind, so that even species with enhanced abilities could not hear him. A talent he’d picked up over centuries. “I can smell him as well.”

  His horse stomped at the ground, as if ready to take flight, and Adres felt a fondness in his chest that was as close as he’d ever come to caring for something. His horse wasn’t as spry as he used to be, but he still had a lot of fight inside him. Război had been with him for a third of his life, born and bred only for him, which meant they’d faced many challenges together. Many wars. From birth, their warhorses were given daily doses of their blood to extend their lives to match their rider’s. But times had changed—both species had evolved—and he and his horsemen were rarely needed to serve their forms of justice any longer. Not since the new reign of the vampire king and his just alpha beloved.

  “Return to the grounds, Răz.” Adres rubbed his friend’s velvety flank just before he bolted into the trees, his speed accumulating a force of wind in his wake that blew the shrubbery around him.

  Adres used his speed and followed the sound of splashing water and the scent of goodness in the air. He knew he was close to him. It was the smell of a man he could pinpoint in a forest of ten thousand shifters. His superior, pompous fragrance offended Adres’s every sense. The scent cut off—not faded—in the middle of nowhere, and Adres stopped, his long cloak flaring in front of him. There was a pile of men’s clothing lying on the bank a few feet from the water. Adres spun and focused on everything around him, preparing to be startled from behind, but he heard nothing.

  His confusion caused unwanted irritation to flare up inside him, but this particular shifter seemed to have that effect on him. Adres eased away from the edge of the bank as a piercing sensation tore down his spine. He stood mesmerized by the rippling patterns in the water as a massive all-white wolf slowly ascended from beneath the dark surface.

  “Regală.”

  Adres cursed his first thought. Fierce, ice-blue eyes met and held his as Macauley Volkov stalked towards him. He stopped several feet away and shook the excess water from his thick fur before he turned his large muzzle towards the almost full moon and howled a long, harmonious echo that sounded as if he were showing off. Before he could finish his performance, Adres began a dreary slow clap that made the big wolf snap his head around and growl in his direction.

  Macauley’s steps were bold as he advanced, and Adres cocked an eyebrow, refusing to retreat. Shifters were by far the more superior species—it was how nature intended—but Adres’s notorious killing reputation was well-known. He had no cause to fear.

  Macauley was only inches away, his black nose level with Adres’s throat. He was huge and impressive… and very beautiful. Beautiful. Adres gritted his teeth at the pathetic quality. A man should not be classified as such. Men should be ugly, his face and body plagued with battle scars. Adres remained still as the wolf’s cold, damp muzzle pressed against his jugular. It was only seconds before he felt those lips curl into a snarl. Macauley’s growl vibrated his sensitive skin, causing that irritable sensation just beneath it to ignite like firecrackers. He was careful not to bare his throat as he tucked his chin closer to his chest.

  Macauley pushed his nose deeper into his flesh before he dragged it down the front of Adres’s chest, lingering near his core. If he shoved the curious wolf away, it would be considered rude, and since Macauley was an alpha… it would also be taken as a direct challenge. He wouldn’t call the inspection uncomfortable, merely annoying.

  Adres clenched his teeth. “Whatever it is you’re searching for, I promise, you will not find it, young wolf.”

  The air swelled around him, and the feelings of virtuousness and honor slammed into Adres’s chest hard enough to make him stumble backwards. Before he could shake off the overwhelming feelings, Macauley shifted and crowded him against the rough base of an aspen birch. A very naked and wet Macauley, in all his splendid male form. Adres didn’t want to admit the truth, but his resolve continued to falter in this man’s presence. He was the most fascinating creature Adres had ever encountered; he didn’t know why he literally got under his skin.

  And then he spoke.

  “Drop your shield, vampire. And I will find it.”

  Adres remained silent as his gaze traveled up Macauley’s throat and over his stern features until he was staring him straight in his eyes. The glacial-blue irises were as blinding as they were sharp. But Adres was insulted that a man so young—a shifter—had the audacity to tell him what to do. Adres wasn’t as tall or muscular as Macauley, but he was still able to hold their eye contact enough that it made the alpha bristle against him.

  “Are you challenging me?” Macauley growled.

  A long vein bulged at the side of Macauley’s throat, and Adres’s gaze fell on its own, his most natural instinct homing in on the blood coursing through it. He’d never drank from a shifter and had no desire to, so he was surprised at his sudden pang of hunger. Ignoring the discomfort, he figured he should probably make a trip into the city to feed at the first opportunity.

  “I would not dare,” Adres said coolly, despite how hard he was working to combat Macaulay’s righteous energy he was so rudely forcing into him. “I am a guest here. I was invited by your own brother and my king. I have a duty to fulfill and—”

  “Liar,” Macauley sneered as he pushed even harder, not with his body but with pure energy.

  Adres’s lids almost fell shut, a soft moan escaping his lips before he could stop it. He was horrified by his reaction, as wave after wave of warm virtuous goodness flooded his body. The sensation generated in his chest before it spread throughout his system, flowing smooth and sweet like honey down to his limbs, until he could no longer feel the buzzing beneath his skin, only decency and lightness. His knees felt weak, but he refused to go down.

  Adres glared at Macaulay, inhaled a deep breath from his center, and threw his shields up full force, enough to push the young wolf’s moral power off of him. “Get out of my head, damn it. You or your wolf is not welcome there.”

  Macauley bared his teeth, but he must’ve realized that Adres was right, and he was acting like an entitled ass. After a long pause, Macauley eventually stepped away. “You may have convinced my family, vampire, but my wolf can sense you are being dishonest.” Macauley turned and casually went to retrieve his sweatpants and T-shirt from near the water’s edge, either completely unaware—or unashamed—of his nakedness.

  And why should he be? Macauley Volkov’s body was toned and muscular, his ivory skin striking under the brilliant moonlight. Adres wasn’t the type to ogle another individual with interest, but for some reason, he could not look away. Macauley kept his back to him as he pulled up his pants, not bothering with underwear. Interesting. In fact, most of the behavior he had witnessed from the shifters during the past week had been interesting. For example, a wolf taking a late-night swim in below-freezing temperature.

  “I consider myself proficient in my knowledge of wolves, therefore I know you are proficient swimmers. But I did not know you did it for recreation.” In the middle of the night… in su
bzero waters, Adres inquired, moving closer. It felt as if the weirdness beneath his skin was not as noticeable in Macauley’s presence.

  “And I didn’t think vampires, especially ones as old as you, were dishonest. What is it you’re blocking me so hard from sensing, huh?” Macauley’s T-shirt clung to the curves of his wet chest. He appeared flustered as he shoved a handful of his dark hair away from his face.

  “I am not blocking you.”

  Macauley snapped his head around. “Liar.”

  Adres grimaced, unsure how to proceed. So, he is a human lie detector. Splendid. Adres had in fact lied. It seemed foolish to try it again. He should’ve been intimidated by such a powerful man. A Volkov alpha. But it was as if he knew deep down—from a place unexplored within him—that Macauley would not attack him. “I am not lying, young wolf. It is a half-truth, if you will?”

  “I will not.” Macauley’s icy gaze roamed over his face before it lowered to his dark clothing. His voice dipped to a rumbling timbre. “Why do you lie to me? Do you think I will judge whatever secret you’re hiding?”

  Adres’s hunger spiked to epic heights shocking him backwards as Macauley inched closer. He was being far too invasive, yet Adres didn’t force him away, and Macauley didn’t push any more of his energy at him. Gazing into those honest eyes, Adres slowly began to lower one of his defenses. No one—not even the vampire king—knew of his reinforced shields that were protected by an enchanted magic. They could not be detected or penetrated. But damn if the powerful Alpha Zenith hadn’t been close. Too close.

  What did these do-gooder wolves expect from a vampire who’d lived for over three hundred years?

  Of course he had secrets.

  Macauley tilted his head higher, scenting as deeply as he could, so much that he could smell the otter searching for food in the shallow depths of the Saco River behind him and the smoke rising from the chimneys in town, miles away, but he smelled very little of the vampire he was almost standing on top of. It was as if Adres Cavalerie was only allowing him to scent the parts of him he wanted Macauley to smell. And that was unacceptable.

  Adres was a cruel vigilante who was known for despising royalists and killing whomever he deemed an enemy of his kind. Macauley told himself he was just being careful and cautious for his family, but the truth was, from the moment Adres had shown up on his pack’s lands, his wolf had been in an uproar. His beast was confused and intrigued by Adres to the point that Macauley had barely slept the entire week.

  Adres had come to them in a manner no shifter had ever seen before—with the head of the Lord High’s enemy in a burlap bag. An actual head! He’d bowed before he’d placed it reverently at Belleron’s feet. Belleron Liatos was the second-in-command to the king, his best friend, and the commander of his army. Adres killing the king’s enemy—in their culture—had been considered an honor, a gift worthy of his king’s praise and recognition. And with little hesitation, the gift had been accepted.

  Macauley trusted his oldest brother, Justice. He was their AZ, and he’d been the one to make the final decision to allow Adres to stay and provide additional protection for Belleron and help command the army. None of his siblings were able to scent any evil from Adres, and the king’s elite legion of vampires had all vouched for the legendary horsemen. While the vampires had been stunned to see and meet a Cavalerie—the true champions for their people—they were climbing all over themselves to work and learn from him.

  But instead of enjoying the small moment of peace Macauley had at home, since those times were few and far between, he had followed Adres around with an ever-watchful eye while he got familiar with his new home. His siblings teased him, and the vampires mocked his paranoia. But Macauley’s hesitation to accept Adres had nothing to do with suspicion. He trusted his wolf, and it was telling him that Adres was not the vampire he presented himself to be.

  “Smell anything yet?”

  Even that Romanian accent that made Adres’s English words sound as if he were whispering them raised the hairs on the back of Macauley’s neck. He inched close enough that he could feel the rise and fall of Adres’s chest against his own. It should’ve humiliated him that he was behaving so irrationally to a welcomed guest, but his wolf refused to let up. Macauley dragged his nose up the hard edge of Adres’s jaw, hovering near his temple. It was the first time he’d had another chance to get this close to him since he’d arrived last week.

  Macauley’s body throbbed, feeling as if his blood levels were climbing, but he blamed it on his obsession to find out why there was a void in Adres’s soul. It was something corrupt and tainted. He could no more ignore his wolf’s nature than his siblings could ignore theirs. Justice would not be able to ignore the unjust, nor would Aleksei be able to resist the pull of another’s rage, since his wolf was also the demigod, Wrath. Taleb must learn and educate for his wolf to prosper, and his sister Farica’s sweet soothing wolf had never been able to turn away from a wounded heart.

  Macauley was so obscenely close, his lips brushed over a ragged scar on the side of Adres’s skull that began at the tip of his ear and disappeared somewhere behind the hood of his midnight cloak. His wolf howled long and melancholy inside him, sensing a tragic story behind this wound. He raised his hand to remove Adres’s cover. There were tiers to him that were endless beneath his many layers of heavy clothes, and Macauley was about to start disrobing him right there in the middle of the goddamn woods. The scent of leather and spices not known to him flooded his senses, but he was just at the tip of this massive iceberg. Adres groaned, his cool breath causing Macauley’s skin to pulsate with a peculiar sensation. He’d never touched another individual like this, a man… a vampire.

  “That is quite enough, young wolf.” Adres flashed around him so fast that Macauley was left staring at the tree for a second before he spun around to see the vampire’s back as he strolled away.

  “Stop calling me young wolf. My name is Macauley. Mac.”

  “You are young. You are practically an infant.”

  Son of a— Macauley caught up to Adres and hooked him by the crook of his elbow and turned him around. He thought he’d yank his arm away, but he stopped, allowing Macauley to handle him. His clothes were soft and he could tell the fabric was of quality. “I know I’m not as old as you, but I’m no fucking pup, either. I’m an alpha, so do not call me that. It’s disrespectful.”

  Adres narrowed his eyes, the ebony irises almost disappearing as he spoke in a voice that was darker than the night. “You grabbed me…” He frowned down at their connection, amazement lacing his words. “You stopped me.”

  Macauley shook his head, not understanding why Adres was suddenly so still. “Yeah, so?”

  Adres blinked at him before he slowly removed Macauley’s hand from his bicep. “You grabbed me… and you are still alive.”

  Macauley stared at his hand as if it were a new appendage that’d just sprouted from his wrist. “You’d kill me for grabbing your arm?”

  “I have killed men for far less,” Adres snarled, two sharp fangs peeking from beneath his top lip.

  “I know just how lethal you are.” Macauley bared his own large canines. “But don’t think I’ll be such an easy kill, vampire.”

  To Macauley’s surprise, Adres cocked his head as if bewildered, then advanced on him. “And, my name is not vampire, young Volkov wolf. It is Adres Neculai Cavalerie, and you are welcome to call me any of the three names—I answer to them all—unless you want to continue to preach of disrespect.”

  They walked alongside each other in companiable silence, and Macauley found himself gazing down at Adres frequently, noticing how graceful and silent his steps were. He seemed to glide across the rough forest floor, moving over ice-slickened moss and bulging tree roots as if he were walking on air. What was it about Adres that made it difficult for Macauley to remain at his side but also impossible for him to leave it? He’d never had such a strong and immediate emotional reaction to anyone before, male or female. And for a s
hifter, that could only mean one thing.

  But if finding his true mate was anything like his two older brothers had described, then Adres should’ve been irresistible to him. Not… barely tolerable. Something wasn’t right. Macauley could feel it within his core, and so could his wolf. Maybe Adres would be a confidante or a loyal friend to him, the same way the king’s Lord Protector, Ramon, was extremely close with his sister, Farica, and Henry to his brother Taleb.

  As they made their way farther down the river, Macauley began to hear the roaring waters of his favorite waterfall. Every now and then, Adres would jerk his head around at a sound he heard and perhaps didn’t recognize. It wasn’t long before Macauley found himself enjoying the vampire’s curiosity. “Relax. It’s just a bobcat searching for food, vampi—” Macauley cleared his throat. “Adres.”

  “I am not concerned. I know of nocturnal animals, Macauley. But I admit that I have not encountered or interacted with much wildlife. Vampires are not typically one with nature.”

  “Then why stay here?” Macauley asked. “Why stay in a place that makes your skin crawl?”

  Adres turned and faced him with a glare that wasn’t challenging but captivating. He stared as if he wanted Macauley to truly look at him. “I had not intended to. Not until… not until you shifted.”

  Macauley was breathless. “You’re telling me the truth.”

  Adres narrowed his eyes. “You have proven that it is rather pointless to lie to you.”

  “I suppose it is,” Macauley rumbled before lowering his voice. “But I hope you wouldn’t want to lie to me.”

  Time seemed to ease to a crawl when Adres lifted his pale hands to his covering like he was going to reveal himself only to him, and the alpha-wolf inside Macauley bolted to the surface, ready to receive him. Before Adres’s fingertips reached the soft fabric of his hood, his gaze darted to the left as he snapped his arm out and yanked Macauley to the ground just as three dart syringes struck the tree near where his throat had been. He’d been shoved to the ground so fast by Adres’s speed, he’d barely gotten out his grunt before a strong arm pinned him to the ground.