The Wolf King Needs an Heir by Max Rose

CHAPTER ONE

Wolf King Edric Rylan loosened his tie as he walked down the steps of the kingdom’s private jet. A warm summer wind blew against his body with a brief but powerful gust. The wind carried the scents of jet fuel, hot asphalt, and exhaust. It made him momentarily wistful for the Summer Palace where the scents were sweeter. His two bodyguards strode toward the armored black limo that had been customized for the Rylan royal family. He followed, grateful for the chance to stretch his legs after the cross-Atlantic flight.

At least the flight from London to New York had given Edric plenty of time to work on the trade agreement. Royal blood flowed in his veins, but that didn’t mean he was lazy. Unable to negotiate a betrothal, maybe, but not lazy.

Edric was the alpha king from the Rylan royal family, the most powerful wolf dynasty in the United States. Sure, the other alpha kings of the other Northern America wolf kingdoms would quibble with that. Especially the arrogant Edward Durante of the Sunset Kingdom in the west. Edward seemed to believe he was king of the hill because he had L.A. and Vegas under his rule. Those were baby cities compared to New York and Boston. Although they were all infants compared to London.

Even so, the protests of the other alpha kings were wasted breath. Edric Rylan’s kingdom was the most populous and the most powerful of all the werewolf kingdoms. The Kingdom of Ry Novia was unmatched. All the werewolf packs in the north and northeast of the United States and part of eastern Canada were under Edric’s rule. His kingdom was powerful enough to stand as equals with the ruling royal wolf pack in the U.K.

But now that he was home, he could admit to himself that the long flight and hectic week of negotiations had left even a werewolf alpha feeling exhausted. Not that he’d ever let weakness show.

The chauffeur bowed to him and swept open the limo door. Edric nodded to him, and the chauffeur bowed even lower. The man was an excellent driver, but he was also trained as a bodyguard and carried a weapon. He was part of the royal security detail. One of the other bodyguards got into the front passenger seat. The other would ride behind them in a black armored SUV with even more guards. Sometimes it irked him how much protection everyone insisted he have around him. He was an alpha wolf. He didn’t fear anyone.

Edric climbed inside the limo and settled into the fine leather seats. He wasn’t alone in the back of the limo. Princess Terra Rylan, his younger sister, was sitting on the leather couch seat running the length of the limo. She leaned forward and handed him a drink.

He took it gratefully. It was whiskey on the rocks. He downed half of it.

“That bad?” his sister asked. She leaned back on the leather chair, picking up her own cocktail. It was a martini from the scent of gin, vermouth, and even the olive.

“That bad,” he answered gravely, meeting her bright green eyes.

Terra was pretty, with the classic Rylan features, high cheek bones, full lips, but her smile made her beautiful. She was a heartbreaker with a heart-shaped face. She rarely dated a man for more than a year. She had at least two opinions about everything on the planet. She actually admired humans. And she would always be his little sister. The sister he needed to look out for, especially after their father died. The two of them had always been close as kids and still were to this day. He didn’t have to tell her how much he loved her. He showed it with everything he did for her, for the Rylan dynasty, and for every wolf in his kingdom.

“So grim,” Terra teased. Her grin was lopsided. “It must’ve been hard staying in palatial luxury and eating the best food.”

“It wasn’t France. When was the U.K. known to have the best food?”

“Oh, listen to you. Such a growly wolf. At least the Brits didn’t inflict American cheese upon the world. Or fast-food.”

He grunted. He had more important things to think about than culinary prestige. “Not that I’m complaining, but why did you come to the airport to greet me? I’m headed home. You could have waited.”

Home was the Seaver Court Palace in upper Manhattan, named after the alpha wolf who had built the palace in 1824. He lived alone in the most opulent rooms, in a palace dripping with old-world luxury and wealth, on sovereign soil under the laws of Ry Novia. The Seaver Court Palace had royal gardens, a small park, and a fifty-five-floor skyscraper apartment and office complex where citizens of the kingdom lived. Those who weren’t living in the skyscraper, known as Selene Tower, lived with their respective packs all over the northeast. The palace might be in New York City, but it functioned like the Vatican in Rome, only with more fur and fangs and far less celibacy.

“I missed my big brother,” Terra said, her eyes flashing mischievously. “And I wanted to know how things went. Are you betrothed? Did you fall madly in love with your future bride?”

“No,” he growled, irritated with her teasing.

So much pomp and circumstance and pageantry and the betrothal negotiations had been a bust. An expensive waste of time. He’d brought a retinue of over a hundred people with him across the pond. Security, servants, administrators, advisors, and the like. The bulk of the retinue would be flying back to New York on commercial flights, first-class, of course. He wished he had more to show for the cost. The trade agreement might make up for it, but the damn thing wasn’t finalized and signed yet. That could still go as wrong as the betrothal talks.

He’d been negotiating with the Weston Pack, the ruling wolf clan in London. They had royal blood traced back to before Richard the Third. Trade had been first on the agenda, along with wolf law and relations between the kingdoms, but there was also something that made Edric grit his teeth.

Arranged marriage. Specifically, a possible betrothal between him and the Princess of Tanhall, Julia Weston, linking the two kingdoms together by the blood of Edric and Julia’s offspring. Or at least that was what they wanted. He’d been angling for something different for Ry Novia. He wanted the future betrothal of his offspring to the scions of the Weston dynasty. That way, he wouldn’t have to bind some poor woman into a loveless marriage with him.

But that was the insurmountable problem, wasn’t it? He had no offspring. Not only that, he had no mate—and certainly not a female mate. Legitimate heirs? Good luck with that. Edric had only ever brought men into his bed.

That was a rather critical complication. It was the reason the betrothal talks had gone absolutely nowhere.

His sister was watching him over the rim of her martini glass. She set the glass down and sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t joke about it. Especially since you hate women.”

He scowled at her. “I don’t hate women. Why would you say that?”

“Don’t get your fur ruffled. I’m just teasing. You know, because you only like men. I like men too. See how alike we are?”

He loved Terra, but his younger sibling could be highly annoying. She did it on purpose. She loved giving him a hard time. She’d always been mischievous. It was amusing…until it wasn’t.

“I’m sure you’ll find it entertaining when I marry you off to the Madran Kingdom wolves for an alliance,” he said. “I hear it’s humid in Indianapolis.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Don’t try me, princess.” He said it with a warning in his voice, but the threat was absurd. They both knew it. The Madran Kingdom was the last place he’d send Terra. Relations with that nation had been frosty between them since the Leone War over three decades ago. His grandfather’s time. Ry Novia and Madran hadn’t warred directly, but Madran had wiped out and absorbed Silterus, the Kingdom of the New South, and now stretched from Indiana to the tip of Florida.

“I don’t like it when you call me that.”

He snorted. “You like it when everyone else calls you princess.”

“They don’t make it sound like an insult. And the Madran? After what they did? Do you want me to end up dead like the entire Silvius royal line?”

A tense silence fell between them. The joke had gotten out of hand. It was his fault. But she was right. Edric might boast about having the most wolf pack alphas sworn to him in a system straight out of medieval times, but Madran was a rival and perhaps even a threat.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, showing he could swallow his pride and beg forgiveness. When it suited him. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s good to see you. I’m just tired. We didn’t leave with a trade deal finalized, and everyone had the wrong idea about the marriage alliance. I wanted to marry off a kid. They wanted me.”

She made an exasperated noise. “Edric. You are gay. How do you expect to have a kid? There’s this thing called the birds and the bees—” She stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide.

“What?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear.

“An omega? Are you going to marry an omega?”

Omegas. He was almost insulted. Omegas were technically werewolves, but they were created by mating a human and a werewolf. So their blood was tainted by human blood. The females were infertile, but something odd happened to the males. They could actually bear children.

But omegas had been ruthlessly persecuted hundreds of years ago, many of them murdered as abominations. That was an atrocity in Edric’s book, but he had no love of humans, so he had no love for tainted omega blood. No omega would stand in solidarity with him. He’d never found one worthy of the honor.

“No. No omega. Can you imagine what the nobles would say if I made an omega my mate and passed over all their fertile daughters?”

Her eyes flashed. “You always tell me you’re the strongest. So was that only boasting? You can’t keep the nobles and alphas sworn to you in line?”

“Terra, I’m too exhausted to deal with you provoking me right now.”

“Someone has to.” She shook her head and downed the rest of her martini but left the olive. “What do you want, brother? If you want an heir with Rylan blood, you either marry a woman or you marry an omega. Would you be happy in a loveless marriage? Could you even get it up for her?”

He glared at her. “You go too far. I am the king.”

“You’re everyone else’s king. You’re my brother. Mother is gone. So is Father. Someone has to speak bluntly to you. Otherwise your alpha ego will topple that fat head off your shoulders.”

“You should be grateful I didn’t marry you off. The subject did come up. More than once.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You promised I could choose the man I married.”

“And I will keep that promise. But show some gratitude.”

She glared at him. He sipped his drink and decided to stare out the window until it sank in with her.

“Is regicide still illegal?” she asked casually. “Because right now, I’m having visions of strangling my older brother who also happens to be the king.”

That made him laugh. He realized he didn’t laugh enough these days. The excursion to the U.K. had been unrelenting ceremony and protocols and on and on, but no laughter. He really had missed Terra.

How sad was that? His little sister was the person he felt closest to these days. The only one who could reliably make him smile. He hadn’t even taken a lover in…what? A year? More? He really did need to get laid. Hell, a month ago, he’d even had a wet dream, fucking some hot stud on a bench in the royal gardens. When you started having sex dreams, it was a sure sign you weren’t getting enough action.

But Hell would sell ski packages before he let Terra know that. He could trust her to keep his secrets, but in private, she would mercilessly tease him if he gave her ammunition.

She leaned over and put her hand on his forearm. “It’s my job to worry about you, Edric.”

He found that sweet. Also, it was amusing. It was his job to worry about her. His little sister could be exhausting, but he loved her dearly. When they’d been kids, they had only had each other to rely on. Their father had been a cold and cruel king. Their mother had spent most of her time living in Canada. He couldn’t claim it had been a rough childhood. They’d been wealthy and pampered, with servants and a palace and anything they needed. But it had been…cold. Few had mourned his father’s passing.

But he didn’t feel like dragging all those ugly skeletons out of the closet. Frankly, he was far too tired right now. All he wanted was to get home, take his shoes off, have a drink, and finally relax.

But clearly, something was bothering Terra. Maybe she was really worried about him. She had no reason to be. He’d simply been working too hard. Commanding a kingdom was not for the faint of heart.

He chose to mirror her earlier teasing tone. “It’s all clear to me now. You rode out here to see me because you’re worried about my love life. Don’t worry. I’ve never had a lover complain.”

“No, you idiot.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s because I missed you and I wanted you to see a friendly face. Especially since it’s been years since you had a lover who stuck around longer than one night.”

He raised an eyebrow, choking back outrage. “Years? Months, maybe. I wasn’t aware that my little sister was keeping track of my love life.”

“Gossip. Werewolves are as gossipy as humans, and the palace servants are the most gossipy creatures in the universe.”

“Wonderful to know the palace is so interested in where I put my cock and how often I put it there.”

She gave him a flat stare. “Of course they are. You’re the king.”

He should’ve expected it. It was true. It had been years since he’d had anything but a one-night liaison. Years since Jansen, the noble first born of the New Haven Pack in Connecticut. They’d kept things as secret as possible for a year and a half, but a king did not get privacy. Edric wasn’t willing to hide his sexuality from the world as if he was ashamed of it. That relationship had turned Edric’s father against him. If Terra had been born a boy, she would be king right now.

But his father was dead. And she wasn’t king. He was.

He reached out and squeezed her hand, smiling at her. “Don’t worry. It will all work out. I’ll do what is expected of a king. For the good of the kingdom and all that.”

“You clearly spent too much time around British wolves,” his sister quipped.

He didn’t know what else to say. Someday, he would be forced into a corner. That meant marrying a female wolf and producing an heir. But he had an obligation to make sure his future queen knew exactly what she was getting into. It would be a loveless arranged marriage. Yet he still hoped to find a female worthy of respect. He hoped they could be friends and partners in raising the Rylan dynasty heirs.

His personal happiness wouldn’t matter. That whole true love business they went on about in the movies wasn’t for royalty.

Why wasn’t he surprised?

A tense silence fell between them. The silence was broken by his smartphone’s ringtone going off.

Annoyed, he pulled the phone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and glanced at the screen. The smartphone was some fancy, encrypted device that his security team insisted he use to hide the kingdom’s business and secrets from the other wolf kingdoms and the humans.

It was Megan Colson, his chief advisor. That was a surprise. “Megan. Feels like I just saw you in London. How was your flight?”

“It was eight hours of fun, Your Majesty,” she said with a hint of that Megan cheekiness. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know it has been a long week. I’m back at the palace already. We have something that…” She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid it needs your attention.”

“What is it?” No rest for the wicked.

“I’m not sure I should say over the phone. Are you alone, Your Majesty?”

“Terra’s here.”

“It’s…too complex for a phone conversation. The high wolf seer is here with me.”

That was another surprise. A strange one. Vali Morgan was the High Seer for all the kingdom’s packs. She was an old woman, the oldest of anyone at the palace or active in the royal household. Many of the nobles loyal to his crown revered her. She was a grandmotherly figure, but not a purely religious one. Not one tied to the priestesses of the moon, though they all shared worship of the Wolf Goddess. Formally, at least. Edric wasn’t exactly religious. He went through the motions because it was expected of the king.

The same went for prophecy or any of that bunk. Edric hadn’t spoken with the High Seer in several years. That was probably best. As king, he was wise enough to keep that opinion to himself. The seers were revered…and powerful in their influence. Better to keep the old woman placated if it cost him nothing.

“I assume it’s bad news?” Why wouldn’t it be? The rest of this month had been one setback after another.

“It’s not…bad. It’s just… Well, you should really hear her say it, Your Majesty.”

Megan wasn’t one to hesitate so often when she spoke. That alone told him enough. “Fine. We’re another twenty or so minutes away. Meet me in my personal chambers. Have the head of security let you in on my orders.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

He disconnected and put the phone away. Terra was watching him like a hunting wolf, ready to strike. “Bad news?”

He shook his head and frowned. “I don’t know yet. It certainly smells like bad news. It has something to do with the wolf seer.”

“That crazy old woman?” Terra asked, her eyes widening. “She terrified me as a kid. Even Samara is wary of her.”

He smirked. Shia Samara was a priestess of the moon. He’d known her since he was a kid, and it had been her duty to teach him of the Goddess. She wasn’t easily intimidated.

“Probably shouldn’t call the High Seer crazy where she can hear you. I haven’t seen Vali Morgan in a long time. Honestly, I thought she was dead.”

“Our father believed in prophecy. You don’t.”

“True. But Father nearly had the old seer killed when she didn’t foresee the fact that his firstborn son and heir would turn out to be gay.”

Terra didn’t reply. Her brow was knitted in a worried frown. She stared out the windows at the New York buildings and traffic. The sun was low in the afternoon sky, out of sight behind the tall buildings to the west.

Honestly, he didn’t need this nonsense about the High Seer in his life. Especially not at the end of a week packed with official events, balls, royal frivolity, and tense negotiations. He turned over the phone conversation with his advisor in his mind, trying to guess what this might be about. He had no idea.

Soon, the palace and skyscraper came into view. The Seaver Court Palace complex took up two entire city blocks, connected by tunnels, bridges, skyways, and even a tram. The complex had both the royal palace built in the 1820s and Selene Tower, the fifty-story skyscraper. All palace personnel lived in the palace tower, from janitors to security guards to his advisors and their families. They had a school on the second floor with grades kindergarten through middle school. A restaurant buffet on the third floor. Gyms, tech centers, and even a convenience store. The palace was a city within a city with its own separate police force. Again, like the Vatican, only in New York and with no fancy Renaissance-era artwork.

His driver pulled to the security gate. Two heavily armed werewolves from palace security checked the driver’s credentials, even though they recognized the limo. The tight security was a necessary evil. It kept all the wolves at the palace safe, highborn and low, no matter what pack they belonged to.

The driver dropped them off at the palace elevator access from the huge underground parking garage. The two of them rode the elevator to the palace’s fourth floor. His sister was uncharacteristically quiet the entire time. He wondered what was going through her mind right now, but decided he had plenty of other things to worry about. First and foremost, what the High Seer wanted after all these years.

The elevator doors opened on a wide, opulent hall with twenty-foot ceilings and chandeliers, artwork on the walls, crystal, gold, silver, jade, marble everywhere. Everything one would expect in a palatial show of power and wealth. He’d long ago grown so used to it that it made no impression on him anymore. He didn’t know why he was in such an introspective mood right now, but the whole damned thing struck him as unfortunate, even sad.

He glanced at his sister as they walked toward his chambers. “Thanks for coming to meet me. It was good seeing you.”

She gave him an arch look. “No way, big brother. You’re not getting rid of me that easy. I want to hear what this is all about.”

“You’re really testing the royal patience tonight. You know that?”

“You still love me, though. So everything’s peaches.”

He grunted but let her tag along at his side.

Two security guards wearing suits were positioned outside his chambers. One wolf remained at attention as the other opened the double doors for him.

Megan Colson, his chief advisor, stood from her chair by the fireplace when he entered. She was pretty—if you liked women—and brilliant, which was why he’d come to trust her above all other advisors. She wore a tasteful suit, carried a computer tablet with her everywhere, and always had her black hair pulled back in a braid.

Vali Morgan sat in the chair opposite Megan, near the crackling fire in the hearth. She did not stand for him. The seer didn’t go out of her way to appear normal, either. She looked seventy or eighty years old or so, her dark skin deeply lined with wrinkles. She wore elaborate blue and silver robes patterned with “mystic” designs that he’d always suspected were all flash and show. Her hood was up, but wisps of her thin gray hair curled around the edges, making her look vaguely like a flower. She was drinking herbal tea; he could easily smell it from here. It tickled his nose and made him want to sneeze.

“You didn’t exactly hurry, did you, oh great king?” the seer chided.

He was used to her impertinence. She was one of the few who could get away with it. A wolf seer was even more revered than an alpha king by some. The hocus pocus stuff really impressed people, wolves even more than humans.

“What is it you needed to speak about, Vali?” he asked, not allowing himself to be provoked. Using her first name on purpose. Two could play this game.

“Right to business. Didn’t anyone ever tell you about foreplay?” Vali cackled and sipped her tea.

His sister laughed but also sounded a bit uncertain. Even a princess was a little intimidated by the High Seer. But Megan came through for him.

“His Majesty is likely tired from a long flight after a long trip filled with high-stakes diplomacy,” Megan said, managing to sound firm without scolding. “I’m certain the king would appreciate efficiency in the delivery of our message.”

Edric gave Megan an approving glance. She didn’t react one way or another, her expression and scent unchanging. His chief advisor could summon an impeccable poker face when she desired.

The seer laughed again and gestured with her tea cup. Luckily, it happened to be mostly empty, or she would’ve doused her robes with herbal tea. “To the point then, because our king is such a busy man.” Her slate-gray eyes narrowed as she peered at him. “I have been using every power and skill in my considerable bag of tricks, searching this world and communing with the spirit realm of moonlight and wolf souls, to find a member of the Silvius bloodline who still draws breath.”

He frowned. “I didn’t command you to do that.”

“True.” The seer looked smug. “But you should have. Don’t worry. I’ve forgiven you for the oversight.”

He stared at her. She smiled at him, deepening the wrinkles on her lined face. No one said anything.

Finally, he lost patience. “Judging by your silence, it sounds as if you wasted your time.”

Like she was wasting his time.

The Silvius bloodline had been wiped out in the Leone War. That war had broken out during his grandfather’s rule, the reign of King Aldron Rylan. If he remembered correctly, King Aldron had been betrothed to the princess from the Silvius royal line. It seemed to him that there was a religious basis for the union, although that fact was fuzzy in his mind. The political basis was clearer. The marriage would’ve bound together the Rylan dynasty and the Silvius dynasty. Any heir produced from the marriage would rule the largest kingdom of wolves in North America. The combined kingdoms of Ry Novia and Silterus.

But war had happened instead. His grandfather had turned his back on the Kingdom of Silterus, wanting to remain neutral. Tragically, every member of the Silvius family was either killed in the fighting or executed when Madran conquered Silterus. King Aldron kept Ry Novia out of the war even though Silterus had been desperate for allies. It wasn’t Ry Novia’s proudest moment. Edric would never turn his back on an ally, much less someone he was betrothed to. His grandfather had shamed the Rylan dynasty.

“A waste of time? No, my king. Nothing is more important.” The seer smiled one of those I know more than you smiles that always irked him. She waved her tea cup, indicating she wanted a refill, even though the teapot was two feet from her on a table.

He certainly wasn’t about to serve her tea. Not only would it be a breach of protocol, which he really didn’t give much of a damn about, but he wasn’t in the mood to wait on anyone right now. It had been a long day. His annoyance levels were building like pressure in a boiler.

Megan poured the old woman more tea. She did so graciously. He needed to give that woman a raise for putting up with the crazy old bat.

He fixed the seer with a hard stare. One he used to intimidate even pack alphas mistaken into believing they might make a better king. “Explain.”

“Must I explain? You know the Ceradine Prophecy.”

“I don’t believe in prophecy,” Edric said flatly. Also, he couldn’t tell one nonsense prophecy from the next.

The old woman sipped her tea and stared at him like a disapproving librarian. “You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, do you? But you have too much pride to ask.”

He grunted. That was all the answer she was getting.

“Very well,” Vali Morgan said. “I will explain. I trained under High Seer Ceradine. She was a better seer than I have ever been. Her soul was closely bound to the moon. Her visions were true. Her last prophecy was her most ominous—at least as far as you are concerned, my king. The Ceradine Prophecy is simple. The Rylan dynasty will end if the Rylan bloodline and the Silvius bloodlines don’t mix and produce a child born of both families.” She held up a finger, her eyes going wide. “But an heir born of both dynasties will bring about peace and happiness for generations.”

“Of course it will,” he said impatiently. Although he was darkly amused in a black humor sort of way. “That’s the whole sales pitch, isn’t it?”

It seemed as if the joke was on everyone. He was guessing that Seer Vali Morgan had found some member of House Silvius, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. But the ironic thing was that, prophecy or not, Edric was gay. It seemed like her moon spirits were out of the loop.

“Ah, the arrogance of the young,” the old woman murmured. “They think they know all there is to know. That they have seen all there is to see.”

“Even if that prophecy is true,” Terra said, uncharacteristically subdued. “There is nothing we can do about it. The Silvius royal bloodline was wiped out in a war. It was a tragedy.”

He was surprised Terra knew that. She had never been the most studious pupil when they were young.

“Not so fast, Your Highness,” the old seer said kindly. Far more kindly than she spoke to him, he noticed. “Even though your brother doesn’t believe in the power of prophecy or seers, I have done little other than try to find a way to avoid the Rylan doom foretold by Ceradine. Tonight, I bring joyful news. At long last, I have discovered a living member of the Silvius bloodline. A bastard offspring of the royal line. Forgotten. An orphan’s progeny. A male wolf with his blood a generation thinned, but still powerful enough to stave off the dire prophecy.”

“A bastard?” He shook his head. “And a male? So you wish me to betroth my sister to this forgotten bastard wolf?”

“Not the princess. You. You must marry him and procreate.”

“This bastard wolf is male,” he said patiently. Patience was a virtue when talking to someone utterly delusional.

The old seer laughed again with delight in her gray eyes. “It doesn’t take magic to know you would prefer a male, eh, my king?”

His lips twisted into a smirk. She was lucky her brazenness amused him for the moment. “Be that as it may, it makes it a real challenge to procreate, doesn’t it?”

“Ah, but you’re wrong again. The bastard is a true omega wolf male. The rarest of werewolves.”

His sister threw him a long look. One of those “didn’t I say that?” looks. He pointedly ignored her.

“A male werewolf with a uterus,” Edric said tightly. “A half-human crossbreed, in other words.”

“A male werewolf who can give birth, yes. This is destiny handing you a gift beyond price. All you have to do is find him and give him a baby.”

Everyone was staring at him. He was still reeling from how mad this entire meeting had been from the start. The old woman was clearly senile.

“It will never happen,” he told them all.

“But the prophecy…” Terra said.

Terra had always been far more mystical, more religious than he had. The Priestess Samara had been a fixture in their lives for as long as Edric could remember, but she had despaired of him ever being spiritual. His sister still had ties to the religion, though. He wasn’t surprised she had bought into this.

“Putting aside whether I believe this prophecy or not,” he replied. “The nobles and alphas under my rule wouldn’t tolerate their king marrying some forgotten, half-human bastard omega from a dead family line. They expect me to find a queen from another kingdom and forge an alliance that makes Ry Novia stronger. Or better yet, marry one of their daughters. And now you’re telling me I must marry a lowborn omega to save my family line.”

“You need not marry him,” the old seer said, her gaze sharper than usual, as if she were judging him again. “You only need your seed to quicken. You must mix the bloodlines to avoid the harm prophesied.”

“So I need to find this omega, knock him up, and go?” he said through gritted teeth. “No.”

That surprised everyone in the room into silence. Even Megan seemed taken aback by the force of his refusal.

Finally, the old woman gave a sigh full of regret. “Then you doom your dynasty to fail. The prophecy is clear. This kingdom will fall if there is not peace. There will only be warring wolf packs, city against city, clan against clan until the humans get involved. And that fire could not be contained once ignited.”

He held up a hand to silence her doom-saying. “I told you no. But you misunderstand what I mean. If I am to take this omega and get him with child, I will marry him. It would be dishonorable to do otherwise. How would that reflect on me if I only exploited him and tossed him aside?”

His sister drew in a sharp breath. Megan stared at him, her poker face having slipped, clearly surprised by his words. The seer’s expression was harder to read. Perhaps mild surprise but also what he took as respect, even approval. It seemed she hadn’t seen his answer coming. So much for “seers.”

“Do what you will, King Edric,” she finally answered. “I have always served the kingdom. As such, I have told you what you need to know. I have fulfilled my duty. You must set right what your grandfather failed to achieve. Your family’s time is running out.”

Did he believe the old woman? She certainly seemed convinced. But any con artist could pull off sincerity. From the look in his sister’s eyes, she clearly believed. He couldn’t tell what Megan thought, but she would share her thoughts later if he cared to ask. If word about this meeting got out, it could hurt him politically. Weaken his hold over the kingdom. Plenty of wolves and packs believed in the seers, in prophecy, and that had power, especially if they believed the House of Rylan was doomed…

“You haven’t told me where to find this bastard omega,” he growled, wishing he’d never agreed to this meeting in the first place. “Or even what his name is.”

“You’re really going to marry him?” Terra asked. “Sight unseen?”

“I made no promise of that. I’m not certain I believe this prophecy. Or any prophecy.”

The seer made a scornful noise in her throat. “You should. But a seer’s words often fall on the ears of the ignorant and the faithless.”

He let that one go without comment. She was crazy, after all. And she hadn’t answered his question either.

“There is a complication with the omega, Your Majesty,” Megan said quietly. “I’ve looked into him, based on Seer Morgan’s information. The omega’s name is Julian Wilson. He works part-time at a fast-food restaurant and attends classes at Queensborough Community College. He doesn’t belong to a wolf pack.”

Edric scowled. “A lone wolf?”

“More like a wolf alone, Your Majesty.”

He snorted. He felt a strange sort of pity for the omega before he pushed that emotion aside. He needed to evaluate this situation carefully, free of emotion.

“I would prefer he had a more…prestigious profession,” Edric said. “Although he is clearly trying to better himself through school.” He glanced at his advisor. “Why should I care that he has no pack? If he is fortunate enough to marry me, he will belong to me completely. I will be all the pack he needs.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Megan said, bowing her head a little. “I understand. But he is half-human.”

Half-human. Yes. Tainted blood. That was more of an issue than this Julian Wilson being a bastard, born on the wrong side of the sheets from the Silvius royal line. Bastards weren’t exactly rare. But all nobles in wolf packs were born of two werewolf parents. Marrying a bastard would be enough of a scandal. Doing it to avoid a prophecy would be rejoiced at by as many wolves as would think it hocus pocus nonsense. But marrying a bastard half-human omega? That was completely uncharted territory. The repercussions could be severe.

Not only that, but Edric wasn’t overly fond of humans. They could never agree on anything. They fought with each other like petulant children…armed with dangerous weapons. They lied and cheated and hurt the innocent. Plenty of them hated and feared werewolves. They were no friends of his. The thought that he might need to rely on anyone with even a drop of human blood in him really stuck in his craw.

But at least the omega had the right equipment…in both senses of the word. So perhaps destiny really was playing a cosmic joke on him.

He couldn’t make a decision now. His thoughts were reeling, chaotic. He was too tired for something this important, but he would need to make a choice. Ignore the seer’s prophecy or accept it and accept the decision it forced on him. His first instinct was to ignore the prophecy. But it wasn’t that simple, was it? He didn’t trust the seer not to begin spreading rumors, gossip, and unrest about this prophecy. Silencing an old woman by locking her up—or worse—was out of the question. He wasn’t that kind of king. He never would be.

Not everyone would believe the seer’s rantings, of course. But enough would believe her to split the nobles and packs into factions. Factions would be a massive headache for his throne. Perhaps the end of it if things grew truly bad.

He needed more time to think over the repercussions of this. He shouldn’t move too fast. This couldn’t be a snap decision. It would affect the rest of his life. Everything would change.

It would be easier to make a better choice if he brought the omega here. Not only that, but bringing this Julian Wilson here would buy him time. Despite his bold words about honor and being the only pack the omega would need, perhaps it would be best to satisfy the spirit of the prophecy and nothing more. He could simply get himself a bastard on the omega and stave off the prophecy. He might not believe in melodramatic doom…but there were times when prophecies came true. Or at least, that was what the pack histories claimed. Yet, those were mystical parts of pack histories. Not everyone believed them.

He glanced around him, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “I have much to think about. Thank you for coming.”

The dismissal was clear. His sister leaned in, stood on tiptoe, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“You’ll do the right thing, brother. I know it.”

Then she turned and left, not looking back. Her simple faith in him touched him. It also had him wondering if she was putting too much faith in her big brother.

The seer used her cane—a simple aluminum cane, nothing magical—to lever herself to her feet. She was such a small woman, barely coming to his mid-chest. She walked to him, stopped, and peered up into his face. She tapped him on the tip of his leather shoe with the end of her cane.

“I spent years researching Ceradine’s prophecy, despite your family’s determination not to believe it. Especially your father’s refusal. Don’t be a fool and make all my efforts a colossal waste of time. I’d hate to see a good man like you lose everything. Your grandfather was a coward. Your father was an ass. His children are far better folks, but you should heed my warning. Don’t waste time or you will regret it. You know in your heart what you must do.”

He stared back at her, amused and irritated in equal measure. This old woman was definitely fearless. Insulting a king’s father was a risky move to make.

“My father was not a good man or a nice man, but he was not a stupid man,” Edric said. “He believed in the dynasty. He did everything for the kingdom. But the Silvius line was wiped out. Everyone knew it. Now you’re telling me this forgotten, half-human bastard wolf without a pack is the key to saving my family.” He leaned closer, giving her a hard stare. “So, yes, I need some time.”

She grunted and continued on her way, her cane tapping on the floor as she hobbled. His advisor headed to the door and held it open for the seer. The old woman gave a grandmotherly smile and patted Megan’s hand.

“Megan,” Edric said. “Stay a few moments. I want your counsel.”

She bowed slightly and waited for the drawing room door to shut once more. Edric moved to the sideboard and poured himself a stiff drink.

“Would you like one?”

“No, thank you, Your Majesty. I’m fine.”

He sipped his drink and let out a long sigh. “What do you think? I want an unfiltered opinion.” He waved a hand. “Dismiss with all the respectful ‘your majesties’ and so on. I don’t have the patience for it right now.”

“This is a problem,” she replied.

“You’re my top advisor,” he said wryly. “I expect a little more detail.”

“If the prophecy is true, then the Rylan family line will end. There will be a war for succession. Violence. Instability. The kingdom could be torn apart into warring packs. The humans might get involved. No one wants that.” She shook her head slowly. “But if the prophecy is bunk, you lose a chance to forge a marriage alliance with one of the other kingdoms. If you choose to marry this omega, I mean, instead of simply getting him pregnant. You would face problems with some nobles over a half-human, lowborn wolf marrying their king and suddenly outranking them. But if you get a bastard on Julian Wilson, it might mean problems in the Rylan line of succession. After all, who would be your true heir if you enter another political marriage with a princess? The Calgary Wolf Kingdom was ripped apart by competing claims, especially when the werewolves who aren’t nobles supported the bastard instead of the highborn.”

“Noted. Tell me about the upsides.”

“The humans would love it. The media. That kind of thing. A Cinderella story. Humans love that.”

“I don’t care about that. Or what humans think. Anything else?”

“It would play well with the non-nobles in the packs.”

“The ‘common’ folk?” His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Too bad this isn’t a democracy. Then that would actually matter.”

“It would be a mistake to sell them short, Your Majesty. It could be part of the reason why the prophecy predicts peace if you marry the omega.”

He glanced at her. “I thought I told you to drop the titles.”

“And I have. Except when used for effect.” She gave him an enigmatic smile.

“Touché.” He took a deep breath and went to stand in front of the fire. The flames had died down to coals. The heat felt good against his legs. “Do you believe in prophecy? Any prophecy?”

“I can’t decide.”

“That isn’t the answer I’m looking for.”

“It’s the truth, though. I have never been able to completely dismiss the possibility. But there are other powerful packs who believe very strongly. Especially the older wolves. The ones with the power, wealth, and prestige. I’ve heard some rumblings about the Ceradine Prophecy from time to time. Especially because you haven’t taken a mate.” Her smile was tight, humorless. “A female mate, I mean.”

He nodded absently. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard that plenty of times before. From all his advisors, not just Megan. He heard rumblings from other noble families and packs looking to have one of their clan betrothed to the king. He heard it from ambassadors of other kingdoms, who wanted to forge a marriage alliance with Ry Novia.

Everyone wanted him married. Only they all had different opinions on who he should marry.

If he took this omega as a mate, he could end all that. Plus, his mate would be male. Sort of. He would have the parts that excited Edric, anyway.

“Do you have a picture of this omega?” he asked.

A picture might help him make up his mind. It was almost an embarrassingly shallow way to approach this. Then again, desire had a biological purpose, didn’t it?

Listen to you. You’ve always been such a romantic.

“Beauty isn’t everything,” Megan chided gently.

“It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

She held out her computer tablet to him. On the screen was an image of a driver’s license photo. Julian Wilson’s driver’s license photo.

The picture was not flattering. The omega had one eye half shut as if unprepared for the photo. The picture made him look wasted. Even looking smashed, Julian wasn’t the ugliest person Edric had ever seen. Far from it. Julian was clean-shaven and handsome but delicately handsome. He had almost feminine features, but not quite. The license said Julian’s eyes were green—a rare eye color. But the photo didn’t really show them off at all. The omega’s brown hair was short and indifferently styled. Julian looked as if he’d rolled out of bed three minutes before having this picture taken while suffering the worst hangover of his life.

Even so, there was something about him… Something that interested Edric despite the fact that he didn’t want to be interested in this half-breed. Edric had never fucked an omega. He didn’t believe he’d ever met one. His sexual dalliances had all been with noble-born wolves. Either with werewolves looking to win his favor through his cock or those who were eager to say they’d slept with a king. He certainly had never fucked a human—or a half-human, in this case.

“I suggest scrolling to the next image,” Megan advised. “That license photo is horrible. I feel sorry for him.”

Edric did as she suggested. The next image caught him by surprise. It was a digital photo shot with a smartphone or tablet. Julian Wilson was sitting on a bench in what appeared to be Central Park. He was leaning forward, his forearms and elbows on his knees and a smartphone in his hands. He had his eyes closed and earbuds in his ears. Listening to music then. Edric focused on the other man’s face in the side profile shot. That was an arresting photo. Striking in the way the light and shadow fell upon those pretty features. He felt a sudden thrill, an unexpected tension inside. He looked at the omega’s lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss them. To tease them open with his tongue. To make this omega groan his name.

“Who took this shot?” he demanded.

“I had one of our security people take it while we were still in London. I needed to control the situation and find out what we were looking at. I didn’t want to spring this situation on you until I could meet with the seer and judge for myself how crazy she was.”

He smirked, not taking his eyes off the photo of Julian Wilson. “What’s your evaluation of the old lady?”

“Eccentric. Melodramatic in her choice of words. But she believes what’s she’s saying. Impudence aside, she seems to want to help.”

Edric nodded, still not looking away from the digital photo. The omega was definitely attractive. Something about him immediately appealed to Edric on a deeper level, but he still couldn’t put his finger on it. It wasn’t simply wanting to fuck someone who was good-looking. No… He didn’t understand it. It was like seeing this omega somehow stirred his alpha wolf. Caught and held his attention. This photo far more so than the license photo.

It was a bit unsettling. He’d been ready to dismiss this omega as a bastard half-human unworthy of a king. That might be true, but he suddenly felt guilty about thinking that way. Looking at this picture of a man sitting there lost in his music, lost in a moment and simply enjoying himself, forced Edric to see Julian as a real person. Not something abstract. Not simply a tool to use. But a person.

He wasn’t used to feeling ashamed. Right now, he felt shame for the things he’d said about this stranger, condemning him for things he couldn’t control. Julian hadn’t asked to be born on the wrong side of the sheets. He hadn’t chosen to be half-human. Who would? The least Edric could do was to meet Julian and see what happened.

“Track this omega down,” he ordered, handing back the computer tablet to Megan. “I want to meet him.”

“At the palace?”

“Might as well. He should be suitably impressed by this. It will give us the advantage if we have to negotiate.”

“We may have enough of an advantage already. You are a king.”

“You’re right. But at least our meeting will be secure here.” Also, he could easily have security show the omega the door if Edric didn’t like what he saw.

“And if he doesn’t wish to come?”

“Offer him money to meet.” Commoners always responded to money.

“And if he takes offense?”

Edric frowned. “He isn’t some prickly noble, worried about his honor or saving face. He’s an omega. He works at a throwaway job. He has no pack. He will come.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Your Majesty. I’ll arrange for a meeting tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Sending Megan would be better than going himself. Not that protocol would allow it. Even if he felt like defying protocol, he didn’t want to terrify the omega by showing up with a full security detail and a royal retinue. Edric wanted to keep this under the radar until he made his choice. A wise man moved carefully.

“Was there anything else, Your Majesty?” Megan asked.

“Not at the moment,” he said, turning from the flames to glance at her. “Thank you for your help in London. It couldn’t have been done without you. The logistics must have been a nightmare.”

Her smile was genuine. She was pleased by the praise, even though she’d earned it a hundred times over. She bowed and withdrew, leaving him alone with his dying fire in one of the palace’s countless drawing rooms. He was left pondering what he would do. What he had to do. Whether he believed the prophecy…or if he even had a choice in the matter.

At least he didn’t have to decide tonight. He could meet this half-human bastard wolf first and make his decision then. He’d determine what would be best for the kingdom…and best for the future of the Rylan dynasty.

He could ignore the prophecy completely as so much spiritual mumbo jumbo nonsense. He could take the omega, give him a bastard, and avoid the dire prophecy while keeping his options open. And deal with the fallout. Or he could do the honorable thing and make the omega his mate, his marriage partner, and make the child they created his trueborn heir.

And again, deal with the fallout.

Right now, he didn’t know what was best for the packs or the kingdom. It was a rare and disconcerting feeling. The sooner he had this whole unsettling issue resolved, the better.

Julian Wilson had better be worth all this trouble.