The Wolf of the Prophecy

by Victoria Jayne

  While the wolf couldn’t truly understand what was said within the home, Aric could. The woman inside knew. She knew Aric was nearby.

  As the woman made her way through the house, Aric urged the wolf to move. Whining, then growling, the wolf made it clear he didn’t want to go. His mate was in there. But Aric knew they would be found out, and any plan on a slow play would be ruined.

  His dopey animal paced outside impatiently, waiting for Divina to play with him. The beast believed she’d know him. The animal, an instinctual creature, expected his mate to sense him, to come to him, and to love him. The wolf didn’t understand the complexity of humans. Aric, only part human, had the faintest grasp of this concept. He understood that wolf and human ways were different, at least.

  Finally, just as the woman made her way around the house with Divina in tow, the wolf darted across the street. The car for sale offered shelter, a place to hide and watch. Crouching down low, the wolf watched the woman and Divina wave their hands as they walked around the property, a pungent combination of smells wafting toward the wolf with each pass. The woman beside his female moved with smooth, graceful motions, her grand gestures of purpose contrasting Divina’s jerky mimicry. The woman sprinkled something small with a harsh scent on the ground while she spoke in some language Aric didn’t understand. Divina remained silent. Whatever they were doing, Aric knew it wasn’t good for him.

  Perhaps his exhaustion was the reason why his wolf growled at the pair. In a large black T-shirt that came to her thighs, Divina stood behind the woman with the herbs. A motorcycle graphic stretched across his mate’s perfect chest. The shirt was too large to be hers, and Aric’s hackles rose. His mate wore another man’s clothes. She wore another man’s scent. Curling his lip over sharp teeth, the animal’s anger surfaced. Crouching backward, the wolf pinned his ears back and sniffed the air, preparing to pounce. Every muscle in the animal tightened as he snarled, his sharp canines bared to rip the man who owned that shirt to shreds if he challenged the beast’s claim on his mate. The wolf would destroy any semblance of competition.

  The wolf inched from behind the car. Internally, Aric tried to pull the beast back. Sniffing the air, the wolf tried to locate the male who owned the shirt.

  Scratching and clawing at the inside of the beast, Aric tried to get the wolf’s attention. He whistled in his head and even tried clapping his hands, but nothing worked. He was within the wolf, and the wolf was paying him no mind. The irony wasn’t lost on Aric.

  He needed to take control of the situation before the wolf found the male. Forcing the change would get his human back in control. In wolf form, Aric the human could only watch and experience while the wolf steered the ship. The wolf couldn’t be free anymore—it would only cause further trouble.

  Aric channeled his energy. Pressing against the wolf, he sought to force the change. Sure, he would be naked in the middle of the neighborhood, but that would be nothing compared to the carnage his wolf had in store for whoever owned that shirt. Aric was dominant over his wolf. He just had to remind the beast of that.

  The wolf howled. Trying to shove Aric back down within their consciousness, it fought to retain control. Aric couldn’t let that happen, and he pressed further.

  He couldn’t remember a time when his wolf had fought him and the change so fiercely. Typically his wolf would relinquish control, rarely begrudgingly. He never outright denied Aric the reins.

  The searing fire of the fur receding caused Aric to grimace within the animal. Just when he thought he had the upper hand, it poked through his pores once more. The wolf wasn’t backing down. Gritting metaphorical teeth, Aric shoved his full force against the wolf. His hind legs buckled, followed by the front. He let out a pained howl as he crumpled onto the warm asphalt. Intense pain shot through his limbs as claws pulled back and fingers sliced from the paws. The thin wolf legs bulked as Aric’s muscles realigned and bones cracked. The wolf twisted his neck, and it thinned. With his fur receded, corded veins bulged under the stress of the change. Fireworks went off behind his eyes as his jaw cracked and shrank. Large canines receded into his gums, and lines of human teeth replaced the pointed carnivore’s fangs. With human arms and legs, Aric remained on all fours as he completed the shift.

  This one took longer than any Aric had ever experienced, leaving him gasping, sweating, and drained. Curled up in a heap, he crouched naked beside the car. Part of him wanted to stay there and sleep, but his wolf howled in protest deep within him. The agony in the wolf’s cries stung. The beast longed for his mate, and the sound was heartbreaking. The animal pinned his ears back while whimpering softly.

  Aric only took a few moments to catch his breath. Though early, the sun warmed his exposed skin. Groaning, he lifted himself to his full height and looked left and right. Watching the woman who had cast spells walk away from him, he studied her. She wore a waitress’s uniform and appeared nervous, glancing all around and over her shoulder a few times.

  Before she could notice him—or so he hoped—Aric took off. With inhuman speed, he raced back to Smitty’s. He didn’t want anyone to see him naked. From what Smitty had said, the locals were wary of outsiders. A naked stranger would be the talk of the town. He didn’t want Divina to hear about him before he had a chance to talk to her. He’d shown up unclothed and unannounced to her before. She didn’t need a repeat of that experience.

  CHAPTER 12

  Rori’s knee bobbed up and down as he rapidly tapped his foot. Sitting in a chair flanked by Perci and the woman Rori didn’t know, he focused on the dais. Cloaked in dark hooded robes, the advisors to the vampire emperor filed in and took their seats. With their heads bowed and hands hidden in large belled sleeves, they presented an ominous vision. Rori rolled his eyes at the unnecessary ceremony of it all. A sigh must have accompanied his eye roll, or perhaps a snort—Rori wasn’t aware, but it earned him an impatient glare from Perci. The reaction only annoyed Rori further. Folding his arms like a petulant child, he sulked, though his leg continued to jigger with nerves.

  In Rori’s periphery, Perci and the woman to his right maintained their stiff and formal postures. With chins held high, they regarded the advisors on the dais with admiration. Rori slumped back in his uncomfortable chair and glared directly ahead of him, focused on nothing. He couldn’t feign respect or interest to their level.

  The advisor to the left of the throne stood. With the hood obscuring his face, there were no features to guess at who it could be. The robe offered no hints of shape. The height, however, told Rori it wasn’t the same advisor who had ushered him in earlier.

  As the advisor made his way toward the center of the dais with his back to the throne, the hood fell. Rori’s eyes widened when the pale, angular face of a raven-haired woman looked out at the five seated before her. He hadn’t expected a woman; throughout history, royalty and power tended to favor males in the US. When her silver eyes landed on Rori, her lips tightened into a scowl. Out of instinct, he straightened in his chair.

  Eye contact with predators should always be maintained. To shy away from her would indicate Rori were submitting or was weaker than her. He felt neither of those things.

  Clearing her throat, the advisor moved her focus to a point behind him. “It is with great sadness that we gather in court this evening,” she began.

  Grave grunts came from behind Rori. Beside him, the woman and Perci bowed their heads out of respect. Rori did nothing as he watched the advisor with interest.

  “Our emperor chose to meet the sun,” she went on, as though none of them knew, “which leaves the court without leadership. Our kind in this territory are without guidance. This cannot stand. As tradition dictates, once we have fully mourned the loss of Klaus, we shall crown our new emperor on the new moon.” The advisor’s gaze, which had previously scanned the crowd, landed upon Rori when she said “emperor.” Swallowing hard, he told himself again that he didn’t want the job. Looking away from her gaze, he cowered from the responsibility implied in it.
So much for being the dominant predator.

  The advisor spread her arms wide. Her palms up, she gestured toward the five seated before her. “The candidates for emperor sit before the advisors,” she announced while her gaze shifted to linger on each one of them. “To be emperor, one must possess a beating heart,” she explained to the crowd behind Rori and the others. “This gift is rare, and only these five possess it within our territory.”

  Stealing a glance to his left and then his right, he observed the other candidates’ nonresponse to the statement about heartbeats. While he had known it wasn’t common, he’d expected there to be more than five of them in the whole territory. Out of thousands of vampires who roamed the United States, only five had hearts beating in their chests, and Rori seemed the only one who had been unaware of the degree of their rarity.

  “This is only the first mark of an emperor,” the advisor continued. “We must further test their honor and their loyalty.”

  “What about the prophecy?” a voice broke in from far behind Rori. The crowd gasped at the interruption.

  Turning in his chair to look for the shouter, Rori noticed he was the only one to do so. Scanning the crowd, finding none coming forward, he righted himself. Glancing down the line of hopefuls, he found it curious that none appeared interested in the vampires behind them. These were potentially their subjects, and they couldn’t be bothered to even look at them?

  Her arms falling, the advisor glared out into the sea of vampires. “We have taken the prophecy under advisement,” she said, though her face reflected clear irritation with the interruption of her ceremony. “It will not influence our decision.”

  As though it was his cue, the man in the tuxedo rose and cleared his throat. “If it pleases the court,” he began, “the prophecy should not be taken lightly.” He gestured behind him. “My wolf and my witch have come to demonstrate their loyalty to me and my rightful place on the throne.” He glanced to either side of him. “It does not appear any others have brought proof that they fulfill the terms of the prophecy.” The puff of his chest matched the smugness in his tone.

  Exasperated, Rori rolled his eyes again. Scrubbing his face with his hand, he opened his mouth to speak. However, the woman to his right spoke first. “My heart has beaten much longer than yours, Rufus,” the auburn-haired woman hissed. “My witch died long ago, and his wolf lover had no allegiance to me.” She sneered at the tuxedoed man before addressing the advisors directly. “The prophecy stipulates no role of the wolf beyond the claim to the witch.”

  “Oh, poor Marie.” The other woman shoved to her feet and glowered at the fiery-haired woman. “Your witch cheated on you and fucked a wolf. Your witch died because you killed him. I think that in and of itself shows you are unfit for the throne.”

  “Enough!” The booming voice came from Perci, the only candidate other than Rori still seated. Furrowing his brow, Rori glanced toward the advisors with intrigue. He waited.

  After stroking Selene’s hair, Perci slowly got to his feet. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a few steps forward. Nodding toward the advisors with familiarity, he turned to look out at the vampire court and prospective emperors. The air was thick with unsaid comments and anticipation. Reverence radiated off those around him, and silence hung heavy in the room. Perci had all their attention. The sparkle in his eyes revealed how much he reveled in the veneration. His scrutinizing gaze lingered upon Rori a half second longer than the rest, prompting Rori to his feet. Another predatory challenge against which he wouldn’t show submission.

  “Petty squabbles will not get us any further.” Perci waved behind them, to the rows of vampires in seats. Standing in front of the hopefuls like a father scolding his children, Perci glowered. The other candidates shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps there was hope for Perci. Maybe he wouldn’t be such a bad emperor. Although, that look in his eye had Rori’s stomach churning. There was something sleazy and sneaky about it. It felt wrong.

  “We all have the prophecy weighing heavily on our minds. If the wrong choice is made”—Perci looked at Rori with a scowl—“the consequences may be dire. This fighting amongst ourselves will do nothing to prove worthiness for the throne.”

  Rori huffed and took his seat again. He’d done nothing but show up, and according to the Ember Witches, it wasn’t Rori who was the wrong choice.

  “Thank you, Duke Hohenzollern,” the advisor said.

  Perci nodded and turned toward the dais again. With a slight bow of respect, he returned to his seat. Reaching for Selene, he resumed stroking her hair as though she were his pet.

  Disdain filled Rori. As calm and collected as Perci presented himself, the words were laced with condescension. To Rori, Perci played the role of peacekeeper only to appear superior in the eyes of the advisors. The man was a scoundrel.

  Rori gazed past Perci to the other two vampires. They weren’t any better. Their childish attempts to make each other look bad proved they would be disastrous rulers.

  Glancing to his right, Rori took in the corseted woman. Sitting with excellent posture, she stared forward. With a face that hard and cold, she wouldn’t be any good, either, if the rumors about her were to be believed. To have killed the one who gave her a heartbeat was not a sign of stability. Rori couldn’t even fathom what it would take to kill such a special person.

  He looked down at his feet, his knee bobbing again. Inhaling deeply, he filled his lungs to the point of bursting. His anxiety with the situation was obvious to anyone who observed him. No one, not a single one of the other vampire candidates, was fit to rule. Perci was a sneaky fuck. The others were ill equipped.

  But he wasn’t fit, either.

  CHAPTER 13

  Fifteen times. Divina had attempted the spell fifteen times and gotten nothing but smoke. Was she saying the words wrong? Were her hand movements wrong? Maybe she used the wrong herbs or in the wrong order. Spells seemed to be a lot like cooking, and she wasn’t a good cook.

  Exasperated, she plopped onto the couch and raked her fingers through her hair. Leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, she eyed the bowl of mixed herbs on the coffee table. She wasn’t getting it. It was too hard. She needed more help. Glancing at the clock, she groaned. It had only been two hours since Sonia left.

  Divina leaned back and stomped her feet. Letting out a growl, she squeezed her eyes shut and pounded her fists on the cushion. Not only was she screwing up spells, but the pain in her chest had come back, serving as a reminder of Aric and the prophecy. The pressure of the prediction, the ache in her chest, it all taunted her. Each thrum of pain reminded her that she didn’t have a lot of time and she needed to learn these vrăji. The complicated steps only served to frustrate her more. She needed to become a powerful witch—all supernatural kind depended on it, supposedly.

  And wasn’t that a bitch? She never wanted the responsibility of all supernatural kind. Rori, the Ember Witches, and now Sonia all told her about how it was up to her. If she chose the wrong one, witches, wolves, vampires—they would all be outed. How? She didn’t know, but humans would find out somehow, and that would be on her.

  Like a hand tightening around her throat, the pressure choked Divina. She’d never wanted to be a powerful witch. Hell, she hadn’t even known witches were real until Rori. That asshat came into her life and laid this responsibility at her feet like some fucked-up obligation fairy. Part of her wanted to believe she had no choice in it. She wanted to say Rori, the Ember Witches, even Aric had shoved her onto this course without her permission. That simply wasn’t the case anymore. She’d agreed to be a part of the prophecy when she crossed Sonia’s threshold. The blame lay squarely on her own shoulders now. All her excuses were useless. This was on her.

  Divina needed air. She needed to take a break. Re-centering herself would be her focus. She’d be useless if she wasn’t centered.

  Pushing off the couch, Divina strode through the house. After visiting the dryer, she tugged on her jeans. She went to the front yard,
the screen door slamming behind her. Looking out to the street, she watched two children ride by on bicycles. Divina envied their simple existence. She’d once been that way. Her youth, though spent in foster care, had been a happy time.

  She scowled. Rori stole that from her. It was his fault. She wouldn’t be here, in this woman’s house, failing to learn vrăji, if he had just left her alone. She rubbed the heel of her hand against her sternum. She wouldn’t be in pain if Rori and Aric had just left her the hell alone—that bit, she could blame on them.

  Spotting a few weeds poking out from below a bush alongside the fence of Sonia’s front yard, Divina frowned. She needed to do something to take her mind off Rori, off the prophecy, and off the spell she just couldn’t seem to master. Weeding would work. Stalking through the yard, she knelt to tug the weeds from beneath the low bush. Nothing like manual labor to burn off irrational anger. The weeds would feel Divina’s wrath. Yanking them, root and all, from the soil would give her the power she felt she lacked in this mess.

  She wasn’t sure how long she was at it. She had done the entire line of shrubbery along the chain-link front fence, leaving her arms sore. However, the ache in her chest was gone, again. Unsure when it had stopped, she was nonetheless thankful.

  Maybe they weren’t weeds. Maybe they were magical heartburn cures. Divina grinned at her musing despite knowing what she felt wasn’t heartburn. She had to accept that the pain in her chest wasn’t biological. It was magical.

  “Divina.” His voice froze her. She hadn’t known Aric long, but the chords of his voice were unforgettable. They stroked her core like no other sound in the world.