Prophesy Book III

by A. E. Via

  Adres’s front door was kicked open, and he scurried to the other side of the room to avoid the light filtering in behind Belleron. He leaned against the doorframe and turned his face towards the warm, orange sun as a wistful smile graced his face, the heat turning his pale cheeks a faint hue of pink.

  “You can have this too, horseman,” Belleron stated in a smooth tone, as if he was oblivious to Adres’s inner turmoil. “Have you ever seen a butterfly suck the nectar from a coneflower or watched a pack of pups play chase with squirrels under a cloudless powder-blue sky?”

  Squirrels, butterflies. What the fuck was Belleron even talking about? Adres was a vampire… he’d never act as sappy and absurd as the ones he’d witnessed living here on the pack lands. His brethren had gotten so content in their romantic bubble that they’d blocked out the real world.

  “What makes you think I want that, day-walker?” Adres could only imagine how disheveled he appeared hovering in a corner with his rumpled clothes and hair, reeking of Macauley’s come.

  “Because who wouldn’t?” Belleron chuckled lightly.

  Adres clenched his fists until his nails cut into his palms and his blood dripped onto the carpet. He wanted to feel anything but this.

  “Adres.” Belleron came farther inside. His disapproving scowl lessened the smile lines around his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me that Macauley was your cherished? I had to hear it from my own.”

  How did Aleksei know?

  “My other mate.” Belleron tucked the streak of white hair behind his ear. “He smelled you in the room despite what you did to try to hide it.”

  “Please leave, my Lord,” Adres said between clenched teeth. His mate’s blood churned uneasily in his stomach as guilt rode him hard enough to make him wish for death.

  “How could you do that to Mac? Why did either of you think it had to be kept a secret?”

  “It is not your concern—” Fear clamped Adres’s mouth shut as Wrath ducked his head and came through his front door with a cloud of heavy smoke trailing behind him. The heat in the room amplified to the point that Adres had to tear his heavy cloak off.

  “I was handling this, Ira,” Bell sighed.

  “Yes you were, fragile mate, but men like Adres only understand one language.” Wrath moved around Belleron, his burning eyes lasered on Adres in a way that made him tremble. Thick, black fog whirled around him angrily as Wrath cocked his head to the side as though he didn’t recognize who Adres was… but should have.

  His insides twisted as he fell to his knees and bowed his head, needing one last blessing from the demigod, hoping he’d grant his prayer for death as he extended his hand towards him like a begging scoundrel.

  Adres heard Belleron’s gasp a second before Wrath’s smoke clutched him around his throat and threw him backwards until his spine connected with the wall. Adres clawed at the restriction crushing his windpipe, but his limbs were useless against Wrath’s heat.

  “How dare you dishonor me, horseman. After all we have been through together.”

  The warmth in the room climbed to a sweltering temperature as Wrath’s waves orbited above his head. “I was not…” Adres choked, attempting to explain. “I was p-praising you.”

  Wrath stretched his arm in Adres’s direction, his fingers splayed as flames gloved his palm in orange and red. “You call that praise. There was a time where you walked beside me. Now, your very presence insults me!” Wrath’s voice echoed around the room before he snapped his hand forward and shot the flames two inches from Adres’s head.

  He jerked to get away from the blast. The fire didn’t touch his body, but the heat did, making his skin feel as if it was being peeled away and pinned with iron nails. Macauley’s brother Aleksei had not needed to come in his god form to kill him for what he’d done. Adres would willfully lay down his life for his disgrace.

  “Look at what you have become. Have you truly forgotten who you are?”

  Adres was engorged on a Volkov alpha’s blood; he was never stronger than he was at that moment. Yet Wrath kept him pinned to the wall with his feet dangling off the floor as if he was nothing. Insignificant.

  Adres had never felt humidity so intense, and he had once braved a mission in the Death Valley. Wrath possessed the kind of heat that seeped into his bones and burned from the inside out. Adres groaned as Wrath formed another explosion of fire with his fist. True terror seized his heart and pumped fear through his veins.

  “You have let this curse defeat you.” Wrath’s voice rippled like the aftershocks of an explosion. “You once wielded that evil as a great weapon. And when you prayed to me on the battlefield, I answered the call.”

  Belleron stood silently amongst the smoke that invaded every space in the cabin except the space around him. He was practically basking in the heat as if it was an ambiance.

  “Now you cower in the dark in shame while your beloved lies dying at your own hand!”

  Adres attempted to holler, but his mouth was filled with liquid fire as a coil of smoke pressed across his throat like a steel bar. Desperation yanked at him, fight or flight overriding his senses as he tried to take a breath before he lost consciousness.

  “The spell has now darkened your light until you can no longer recognize it.” Wrath extinguished the flames in his hand, but Adres was unable to feel a second of relief as the smoke around him formed into the shape of an arrow that Wrath shot directly into his heart.

  Adres jolted violently as hundreds of the evil wards locked around his soul disintegrated at once. The pain was so instant and sharp that it knocked the last of the air from his lungs, preventing the wail from escaping his throat.

  Wrath came closer, but his imposing presence was blurred by the smoke as visions began to form within the layers. Adres was able to make out a reflection of himself fighting as a young warrior with Wrath by his side. Acrid fumes slithered up his nose and threaded through his brain as another image of an eight-foot giant in a gold Corinthian helmet with rich mahogany feathers appeared before him. He was draped in heavy bronze-colored robes that had embroidery similar to his own and diamonds decorating the long train. He rode in a chariot pulled by six ebony Friesian warhorses three times the size of Război.

  Wrath’s voice was compelling as he explained. “Your great ancestors were the Titans of the wind who controlled the four cardinal directions. You, Adres, are the descendant of the west. Your father, the great Titan Tephyros, was more feared than the gods. His steeds were inescapable, and as he charged onto the battlefield, he shook the earth around him. When he mated with a vampire queen—your mother—she gave him many heirs.”

  The curse had made him forget.

  “You think those nectar-breath, privileged fairies are the ones who gave you that magic?” Wrath curled his lip in disgust as the heat in the room rose another few degrees. “It was always yours. They just unlocked it for you.”

  “Oh my gods.” Belleron shook his head as he stared up at Adres’s suspended body, Wrath’s binds of smoke restraining him harder than titanium shackles.

  “Look how you have disgraced your name.” Wrath yanked his hand back to his side, and Adres hit the floor like a boulder. The vapors and fumes attempted to choke him as a dense cloud enveloped his head. “I’m not even in my god form, Orestes. I should be no match for you.”

  What did he call me?

  The edges of Adres’s vision got brighter in the corners as he slowly got to his feet, his eyes never leaving Wrath’s. Belleron placed his hand on his mate’s broad shoulder, and Adres didn’t know if he was trying to intervene and stop them or if he was taking cover.

  Adres held his hand out and whispered for his sword on the wind. A second later, the handle slammed into his palm and ignited with an iridescent light that made the waves of heat and the putrid smoke vanish with a booming crack resounding like lightning striking concrete. Wrath narrowed his eyes as he glanced around the small cabin that appeared as if nothing had ever happened. As if he had not just brought the o
utskirts of the underworld into Adres’s living quarters.

  “The Mother chose you as Macauley’s true mate for a purpose. You are the light of the west winds, Cavalerie. Your magic brings forth the spring greenery and ripened fruits after winter. But your curse has blinded you.” The flames in Wrath’s eyes began to cool to an ocean blue, his growly voice trailing off as he rumbled, “Remember who you are, old friend.”

  Adres held his sword in front of him as if he had never seen it before.

  “Go to my brother, please. He needs you.”

  Adres glanced up and locked eyes with Aleksei Volkov. The blue in his irises was murky like the Devil’s Sea after a storm, and Adres could sense that Wrath hadn’t receded very far. Aleksei took Belleron’s hand and led him towards the front door. He paused just before crossing the threshold and turned to face him.

  “And I don’t care if you’re my brother’s mate or not. If you ever do that to him again and leave him to die, I’ll gladly allow Wrath to surface for as long as he needs to torture and kill you, Titan of the west wind.”

  Adres didn’t drop his head and continue down his spiral of despair. He could feel parts of himself that had been locked away for a very long time. Parts he thought had been severed. Adres released the handle of his Hwando, and instead of it hitting the table, it levitated in the air, its edges reflecting silvery shards of light around the room.

  Adres had forgotten.

  He removed his clothes and went to the westernmost part of his cabin and settled on the hardwood floor to meditate for the first time in over three hundred years. He wanted to see exactly how much of the curse Wrath had been able to demolish.

  Maybe it would be enough for his beloved to forgive him.

  It was almost midnight, and Macauley was still too weak to stand or shift from his wolf form. His sister and betas had shifted and curled around him as he howled for his mate. He’d seen the rage in Aleksei’s eyes before his brother retreated and allowed Wrath to go after Adres. His panic had intensified, and an agony like none other had torn through him as he was forced to listen to his mate’s screams, unable to go to him. And his betas were too enraged with Adres’s actions to go to his aid on his behalf. If Macauley had been able to communicate, he would’ve explained to his family what happened. That he should not have woken Adres the way he had.

  However, since he couldn’t speak, he was forced to listen to Aleksei spill all of his and Adres’s secrets to Justice when he returned. He’d not only told them about his inability to mate because of Adres’s curse, but he’d even snitched about Macauley sending Taleb to the Monstrous Reef.

  I’m gonna bite you so hard, Alek, when I’m finished healing that you’re gonna see my goddamn teeth marks on your ass for fuckin’ weeks! Macauley blared uselessly through their link, knowing they still couldn’t hear him yet.

  He and Adres were so close to an answer, they couldn’t give up now because of one mistake they’d both made. He was sure that his mate was packing his belongings while Macauley was forced to lie there and recover. Was he really going to do nothing while Adres ran away, thinking he was doing what was safest?

  Macauley tried to untangle himself from his betas and test his strength, but Farica nipped at his ear and barked for him to stop moving and continue to rest.

  “I cannot believe you sent Taleb on that kind of mission with only his betas,” Justice said quietly as he stared out the double-paned window Adres had disappeared through without opening it first or making a single crack in the glass. “He should’ve at least taken some enforcers.”

  Justice wasn’t yelling or even disciplining him for his recklessness, which would’ve been better than hearing the disappointment in his voice. “Did you not trust me as your AZ… or your brother?”

  I was only trying to protect my mate.

  “What if something happens to your little brother because—”

  The bedroom windows rattled suddenly as though a jet had flown over too low to the ground as his cabin shook on its foundation. Farica and his three betas leapt off the bed and landed in a protective stance in front of the door. Justice’s guards who’d been stationed out front hurried inside as a gale force wind blew in behind them.

  “It’s the Lord of Arms,” one of the guards blurted, his eyes wide and focused on the door. The other enforcers appeared just as anxious. “He looks different.”

  “Yeah. And um… he didn’t come on his horse. He just dropped down in front of us.”

  Macauley was barely able to lift his head off the pillow and aim his nose towards the air. His first inhale had him struggling to get his paws under him as the incredible scent of leather, forest rain, and ripened plums circulated around him.

  He came back.

  “I am here, beloved.” Adres’s voice ruffled Macauley’s fur like a cool spring breeze. “Tell your betas to let me in, or I will move them myself.”

  Macauley released a weak bark, trying to communicate Adres’s warning, but he was being ignored.

  “What’s happening?” Justice demanded as the windows blew open, sending a frigid burst of wind into the room.

  Adres stood in Macauley’s bedroom door with his hooded black cloak trimmed in gold gusting around him and his sheathed sword clutched in his right palm. The enforcers were right. There was something very different about his mate; his scent and his energy had changed. Macauley could feel it.

  Adres’s gaze stayed on his as he politely asked the occupants in the room, “Please get out and leave me with my cherished.”

  “Not on your life.” Justice stalked across the room, his own powerful energy rippling in the atmosphere.

  “It’s about time you showed up.” Aleksei stood from the end of Macauley’s bed and urged Justice to go with him. “Come on, brother. Even Wrath is not interested in facing a Titan at the moment.”

  Macauley had exceptional hearing in this form, but he didn’t quite believe his ears. Did he say Titan?

  Macauley’s family filed out one at a time, each of them casting a bewildered expression at Adres. Bundy was the last to leave. Once he’d crossed the threshold, Adres waved his palm, causing a blast of wind to slam the door closed after them.

  Macauley couldn’t resist taking another deep whiff since he’d never smelled so much from Adres before, including the scent of new spring and dark berries. Adres released his sword that hovered protectively near his shoulder, then removed his shawl. Macauley wished he could tell him how handsome he looked in his fancy cape-like outfit, but it would have to wait.

  “I do not know if I have the correct words to express my most sincere apologies, Macauley. I have no explanation for my cowardly actions towards my own cherished.”

  Macauley shifted over when Adres climbed onto the bed and nestled close to him. He sighed as cold fingers sifted through the thick scruff around his neck and then down his back. It felt good enough to make him close his eyes and lay his head over Adres’s heart. He didn’t have the strength to penetrate his core, but he knew there had been a change. Not only in Adres’s natural scent but also in the amplification of his magic.

  “You still cannot communicate?” Adres laid his forehead against Macauley’s muzzle and whispered, “Forgive me, young wolf. Forgive me for leaving your side when you needed me the most.”

  Macauley let his eyelids fall shut, having faith that Adres would be there when he woke. He was wrapped in protective arms as Adres coaxed him into a peaceful sleep.

  Adres didn’t leave Macauley’s home for the entire week it took him to heal. He’d shift back to his human form for a little while and then to his wolf to continue healing faster. Macauley’s siblings and a few pack members would come by during the day while Adres slept and bring him food or to just keep him company. He hadn’t attempted to drink from his cherished anymore, nor had they been intimate again. However, he wouldn’t have said it was the furthest thing from his mind. He was still more than satisfied as far as his thirst was concerned, but there was something else he cra
ved even more than Macauley’s blood.

  He wanted his thick cock inside him the same way he’d used his fingers. Adres had never felt such exquisite pleasure.

  Adres waited downstairs in Macauley’s nice kitchen while he finished showering and dressing. He didn’t think it’d be a good idea for him to be in the bedroom when Macauley stepped out of the shower, dripping wet in a thin towel and smelling edible. Adres’s dick was getting hard at the thought—which was the norm now—as he walked around to get his mind off sex.

  First, he sat on the sofa, but he was vibrating with too much energy to remain still. He moved around the open space, touching knickknacks and running his palm over the beautifully crafted wooden furniture that his beloved had made with his own hands. He was so talented. Not only had Macauley done all the designing in his own immaculate cabin, but he’d done a lot of work on pack members’ homes as well.

  While Macauley was healing, they’d had some in-depth conversations about their lives and the eras in which they’d grown up. His beloved had been quite animated recounting of his days as a pup and the shenanigans he and Aleksei would get into when Wrath would take the surface. Adres really enjoyed hearing of Macauley’s normal upbringing, with parents, siblings, and a pack that was his extended family. Adres’s life was filled with a lot more adventures to tell, but unfortunately most of his memories were still locked away.

  At least my light has returned.

  Wrath had done a lot. He’d freed his soul, but he couldn’t do it all, and Macauley was anxious to be back inside him to see for himself. Adres didn’t think that was a good idea since Macauley was just healed well enough to leave his home. He thought it would be best to take their time. He was glad Macauley respected that and didn’t try to force it or sneak inside his mind while he was unshielded. He didn’t think he could ever get used to keeping his shields down, but it was easy when it was just the two of them. And he’d enjoyed the private time they’d had together.