Prophesy 3: His Righteousness by A.E. Via
Adres clutched his sword with both hands and closed his eyes as he repeated his chant. Once he felt the energy move through his palms and up his forearms, he stabbed the blade into the ground. His body jerked as the power exploded from the steel of his sword, creating an impenetrable forcefield surrounding the area. He wished he could cover more ground at once, but he could only extend the shield so far.
It took a lot of strength out of him to produce so much power, but this was all he could give to his beloved. Protection. He would guard him with his life if that was all he was good for. He leapt onto Război’sback and nudged him farther up the mountain. He had been working nonstop for days, then coming back to the compound at the earliest hour to rest, in hopes that Macauley was still sound asleep in his own cabin.
It was getting harder every second to stay away from him. Especially when he could still feel Macauley’s presence in his mind. It felt as if it were only yesterday that he’d had his cherished inside him in the most intimate way. His core still stung from where his beast had clawed at him to set him free. It’d been painful and invigorating at the same time. Macauley’s heat mixing with his cold. His goodness combating his evil. And, yet he still claimed to want him, even after all Adres had shown him.
He was tainted. Once a great man, a fair leader, and a fierce warrior who was beloved by his people, now all he had was the fight in him. But he knew that wouldn’t be enough for him to stay.
For as long as he could remember, he’d had the hole in his heart. So long that he didn’t recognize it anymore, until it no longer felt like a hindrance. He remembered nothing before it happened, but the memory of that day was as sharp as if it occurred yesterday. Adres nudged Război into a fast gallop as he tried not to relive it. Not here, not now… not ever. He did not want to remember the excruciating pain of the venom coursing through him when the evil creature had touched the tip of his nail to his chest. For days, years, all he remembered was anger, rage… then nothing.
Adres quickly shook those thoughts from his mind and concentrated on his task. He still had hundreds of miles to cover and not a lot of time to get it done. Another attack could occur at any moment. He pushed himself to go harder, farther, knowing he was overdoing it. He was tired, his body aching and cramping with hunger.
Before he’d arrived on the Volkov territory, Adres used to be able to go weeks between feeding, even a month if he had to. And sleep was not a daily requirement. However, all of that had been before he sensed his cherished. Now that he’d foolishly allowed Macauley inside him, his desire to taste him had grown to epic heights. His throat burned from his thirst, as if he had swallowed a shot of brandy.
After he’d placed one more protective ward, he knew it was past time for him to get to the war room. If the prisoners didn’t come forward with the truth, he knew the king would order them killed and send his army to the coven they originated from.
He hoped they came to their senses and decided to confess, because Adres wasn’t sure he had enough energy to even swing his sword.
By the time Adres was back in his hiding spot in the war room, everyone was already assembled as before, and the prisoners were being brought in to stand before Wick and Justice. The two vampires he’d captured had gone down without much of a fight, while Wrath had gone after the deadliest ones. He had not been the one to interrogate them over the last couple of days, but he’d heard they had refused to speak to anyone but the king himself. As if they wanted their last words to be before the royal court.
Adres could feel his cherished only feet away, making his heart pound and his throat constrict. He closed his eyes and inhaled, filtering out every other scent in the room except Macauley’s. If he wasn’t careful, one of his shields might end up slipping. He needed to focus. He crept closer to the edge of the wall so he could see inside the room but remain concealed by the darkness.
Chains clanked along the stone floor as four of the king’s legion soldiers ushered the captives closer to the raised platform where Wick sat beside Justice in two black leather, high wingback chairs. The vampires’ hands were bound in front of them by thick metal cuffs and their feet so restricted they could only cover a couple of inches at a time. They were still in their dark clothing, though parts had been torn from the scuffle, but neither appeared as if they had been beaten or tortured, just hungry and exhausted.
“Do you not know to bow before your king?” Ramon began. He sat two seats down from Wick with the legion standing behind him, a powerful leader, but the captives did not cower at the sharp order.
They glanced back and forth between each other, standing shoulder to shoulder, upper arms pressed together, and Adres could tell they were more than just comrades. One had shock-red hair down to his waist, and though it was tangled and caked with dirt, it was still beautiful. It made his pale skin almost glow, and as Adres homed in on his features, he saw he did not fit the mold of an assassin. He did not look like a murderer.
The vampires were not like him.
The men Adres and Wrath had gone after were elite, corrupted. They could not be captured, only killed. But these two had come almost willingly. His partner was blond with delicate features, not the typical hardness one got from years of battle. He licked his chapped pink lips before he spoke with conviction. “I speak for my lover and myself when I say that Chadwick Bentley is no king of ours.”
Ramon snapped to his feet like the dedicated soldier he was, but it was Justice who put his hand up to stop him. The AZ was a large, handsome man, his commanding aura fitting for his title. His siblings sat to his right, his force of imposing betas behind him.
“I would like to hear what they have to say if you don’t mind, Ramon. Kneeling is a gesture of respect that is earned… no one is entitled to it. When my shifters bare their throats, it is out of their own will. I don’t demand it.”
“Neither do I,” Wick agreed. He leaned forward with his forearms on the padded armrest and his slim fingers linked together in front of his stomach. “You have demanded to see me…”
They glanced at each other again as if they had a secret language, and Adres noticed the courage in them, but he could also scent the fear. He eased away from the wall and got into a better position. These men were on a different mission.
“I am Azriel, and this is my life mate, Asa. We are the leaders of the End’s Shadow coven in New Orleans. We did not come here to harm you. We came to bring word.”
“Word from whom?” Belleron asked from beside Wick.
“Your people. That they have lost faith in you.” The red-haired one clenched his hands together. “When we heard of your relocation from England to the United States, we rejoiced. There were celebrations in covens across the country. Then you mated with the Alpha Zenith, and again, we thanked the gods for your abilities. The white tiger had been resurrected in our king. We thought finally… the royalty we prayed for is here. We thought you had come to see to the needs of your people.”
“Have you even bothered to inquire about the conditions of the covens here,” his partner, Asa, added. “Especially the ones in the south? Their blood banks are practically depleted. Vampires are starving and dying every day. The life expectancy has plummeted two and a half percent in the last five years, and you have done nothing, King Bentley.”
“I did not know any of this.” Wick appeared horrified.
“It is because you will not leave the grounds unless it is to benefit your mate.”
Adres’s chest hitched at these brave leaders standing up to royalty on behalf of their brethren. It was how he and his brothers had lived for centuries. Even if it meant their lives, they had gotten word to the king. Adres could respect that.
“You didn’t come here for us,” the blond snarled, his fangs bared. “Or if you did, you abandoned the thought the moment you took the AZ’s bite. Now, shifters are thriving like never before with more resources than they can receive… while we suffer!”
“How dare you?” Ramon hissed. “Chadwick Bentley is a great king.”
“To his court, perhaps.” The blond vampire yanked at his chain, his voice so full of anger his words were difficult to decipher. “Tell me, Lord Protector. What kind of blood were you served in a crystal goblet by the king’s servants when you rose this evening, hmm? Pure blood from a Virgin Islander? Or have you been too busy feasting on the tasty lady-alpha that sits beside the AZ?”
Ramon’s face contorted as his movements became a blur. It all happened so fast that it felt as if Adres it played out in slow motion.
The Lord Protector was already off the platform, his face a mask of fury and outrage for his king, or maybe to save face in front of the AZ, because there was no denying Ramon smelled like Justice’s only sister, who sat four seats down from him on the platform.
Wick and Justice were both on their feet, their betas rushing forward, but their speed was no match for Ramon’s. The red-haired vampire turned towards his blond partner as if it were their final precious moments together, and Adres’s vision went dark.
Red and orange burned at the edges of his sight as he flashed out of the shadows, anger flaring through him and burning his skin. He pulled his sword from his back, using the magic to propel himself faster as he shot the force of it at the center of Ramon’s chest. The energy was enough to send him hurtling backwards and crashing into the stone wall before he fell to the ground.
There were gasp and swirls of rapid movement as Adres slid to a stop and dropped into his fighting stance in front of the bound prisoners. His sword was pointed at the floor, but it would take a fraction of a second for him to reposition it to kill. The electric-blue light surrounding his blade crept across the atmosphere until he yanked it in. He’d been so livid, his vision clouded with adrenaline and the magic coursing through him, that he hadn’t noticed the massive black wolf that had shifted and launched himself off the platform, landing behind him.
Wrath circled Adres, curling his body around him until he was growling in Ramon’s direction. Adres felt the heat encase him, but it was nothing compared to what he should have felt as embers of fire fell from Wrath’s fur and landed on his garments. He did not burn. He stood within the waves of wrath, cloaked in his protection, and just like everyone else in that room… Adres was stunned. Belleron was watching his mate, admiration and understanding in his dark eyes.
These prisoners had breached the grounds, but not for the reasons they all thought. They were not their enemy. They were brothers.
“I told you a horseman was here, my love! I told you. I knew he would save us.” The red one hugged his partner the best he could before they both fell to their knees and bowed before him. “My Lords. Bless you.” The blond one’s forehead almost touched Wrath’s front paws as he praised him over and over. “Bless the gods.”
“Adres!” Farica growled, standing beside Ramon as he got to his feet and righted his black suit. “Explain yourself!”
Adres glared at Ramon before he stood and locked his sword behind him. “These men came to make a plea for their people. They were talking, not attacking. It is cowardly and beneath a soldier to strike defenseless men. These bound prisoners presented no threat.”
“Only to his pride.” Justice glared at Ramon.
Wrath growled as if he agreed.
Wick stood and walked down the platform. When Adres was sure the king was not about to shift and attack, he stepped aside. “Will you both remain on the grounds until I can secure a motorcade? Belleron and I will go with you. I want you to show me of what you speak.” Wick’s voice hardened as a warning growl escaped from his beast. “If this is a trick or if there is any deception, I—”
“They speak the truth,” Macauley voiced from beside his brother. “They were not with the assassins that attacked. They merely used them to gain access to the compound.”
“Very well,” Wick stated. “Then you are no longer my prisoners but my guests.”
“Your Majesty.” Azriel stood, this time bowing his head in respect. “I appreciate your offer of hospitality. But if we are free, we would like to return to our homes as soon as possible. Before the night’s end. Our coven is suffering, and they have not heard word from us in days. We need to leave now. We did not come to be courted. We won’t feast on the finest blood from all over the world while our families starve.”
Such honor. Adres was relieved he had not hesitated to come to their defense.
Wick nodded, then gave an apologetic smile. “Of course. We will ready a vehicle to return you to your covens. We can send rations with you—”
“And what about all the others?” Asa was quick to add. “There are so many others.”
“The king is aware now.” Adres turned to them, and the reverence in their eyes touched a place within his soul that he longed to revive. “He will do as he promises. Go back and tell your coven and tell them to spread the word.”
“Yes.” Asa nodded.
“Tell them the king is coming. And relief is on the way,” Adres assured them.
“And we will tell them that a horseman rides again.” Azriel gave a deep bow, his scarlet mane falling over his shoulder, and his mate followed suit, before they were both led away.
Macauley approached him as the others stared, perhaps not sure what to make of him and the god that had come to his aid again. Adres went down on one knee before the huge wolf and bowed his head. He did not bare his throat, but he tilted his head enough to show him the honor.
“Bless you,” Adres whispered.
Wrath dipped his head and placed his nose near his temple, and Adres froze in place. Blinding heat tore through his chest so fast that he didn’t have the time to squeeze his eyes shut before it was gone. When he caught his breath enough to glance up, Wrath and Belleron were gone.
Wrath’s presence in his mind was invigorating and again, familiar, but he did not stir him as strongly as the man at his back. Passion licked down his spine as strong hands gripped his waist. “Come to my house. Now.”
Adres nodded once because there were no intelligible words he could think to speak.