Prophesy 3: His Righteousness by A.E. Via
Macauley tilted his head higher, scenting as deeply as he could, so much that he could smell the otter searching for food in the shallow depths of the Saco River behind him and the smoke rising from the chimneys in town, miles away, but he smelled very little of the vampire he was almost standing on top of. It was as if Adres Cavalerie was only allowing him to scent the parts of him he wanted Macauley to smell. And that was unacceptable.
Adres was a cruel vigilante who was known for despising royalists and killing whomever he deemed an enemy of his kind. Macauley told himself he was just being careful and cautious for his family, but the truth was, from the moment Adres had shown up on his pack’s lands, his wolf had been in an uproar. His beast was confused and intrigued by Adres to the point that Macauley had barely slept the entire week.
Adres had come to them in a manner no shifter had ever seen before—with the head of the Lord High’s enemy in a burlap bag. An actual head! He’d bowed before he’d placed it reverently at Belleron’s feet. Belleron Liatos was the second-in-command to the king, his best friend, and the commander of his army. Adres killing the king’s enemy—in their culture—had been considered an honor, a gift worthy of his king’s praise and recognition. And with little hesitation, the gift had been accepted.
Macauley trusted his oldest brother, Justice. He was their AZ, and he’d been the one to make the final decision to allow Adres to stay and provide additional protection for Belleron and help command the army. None of his siblings were able to scent any evil from Adres, and the king’s elite legion of vampires had all vouched for the legendary horsemen. While the vampires had been stunned to see and meet a Cavalerie—the true champions for their people—they were climbing all over themselves to work and learn from him.
But instead of enjoying the small moment of peace Macauley had at home, since those times were few and far between, he had followed Adres around with an ever-watchful eye while he got familiar with his new home. His siblings teased him, and the vampires mocked his paranoia. But Macauley’s hesitation to accept Adres had nothing to do with suspicion. He trusted his wolf, and it was telling him that Adres was not the vampire he presented himself to be.
“Smell anything yet?”
Even that Romanian accent that made Adres’s English words sound as if he were whispering them raised the hairs on the back of Macauley’s neck. He inched close enough that he could feel the rise and fall of Adres’s chest against his own. It should’ve humiliated him that he was behaving so irrationally to a welcomed guest, but his wolf refused to let up. Macauley dragged his nose up the hard edge of Adres’s jaw, hovering near his temple. It was the first time he’d had another chance to get this close to him since he’d arrived last week.
Macauley’s body throbbed, feeling as if his blood levels were climbing, but he blamed it on his obsession to find out why there was a void in Adres’s soul. It was something corrupt and tainted. He could no more ignore his wolf’s nature than his siblings could ignore theirs. Justice would not be able to ignore the unjust, nor would Aleksei be able to resist the pull of another’s rage, since his wolf was also the demigod, Wrath. Taleb must learn and educate for his wolf to prosper, and his sister Farica’s sweet soothing wolf had never been able to turn away from a wounded heart.
Macauley was so obscenely close, his lips brushed over a ragged scar on the side of Adres’s skull that began at the tip of his ear and disappeared somewhere behind the hood of his midnight cloak. His wolf howled long and melancholy inside him, sensing a tragic story behind this wound. He raised his hand to remove Adres’s cover. There were tiers to him that were endless beneath his many layers of heavy clothes, and Macauley was about to start disrobing him right there in the middle of the goddamn woods. The scent of leather and spices not known to him flooded his senses, but he was just at the tip of this massive iceberg. Adres groaned, his cool breath causing Macauley’s skin to pulsate with a peculiar sensation. He’d never touched another individual like this, a man… a vampire.
“That is quite enough, young wolf.” Adres flashed around him so fast that Macauley was left staring at the tree for a second before he spun around to see the vampire’s back as he strolled away.
“Stop calling me young wolf. My name is Macauley. Mac.”
“You are young. You are practically an infant.”
Son of a— Macauley caught up to Adres and hooked him by the crook of his elbow and turned him around. He thought he’d yank his arm away, but he stopped, allowing Macauley to handle him. His clothes were soft and he could tell the fabric was of quality. “I know I’m not as old as you, but I’m no fucking pup, either. I’m an alpha, so do not call me that. It’s disrespectful.”
Adres narrowed his eyes, the ebony irises almost disappearing as he spoke in a voice that was darker than the night. “You grabbed me…” He frowned down at their connection, amazement lacing his words. “You stopped me.”
Macauley shook his head, not understanding why Adres was suddenly so still. “Yeah, so?”
Adres blinked at him before he slowly removed Macauley’s hand from his bicep. “You grabbed me… and you are still alive.”
Macauley stared at his hand as if it were a new appendage that’d just sprouted from his wrist. “You’d kill me for grabbing your arm?”
“I have killed men for far less,” Adres snarled, two sharp fangs peeking from beneath his top lip.
“I know just how lethal you are.” Macauley bared his own large canines. “But don’t think I’ll be such an easy kill, vampire.”
To Macauley’s surprise, Adres cocked his head as if bewildered, then advanced on him. “And, my name is not vampire, young Volkov wolf. It is Adres Neculai Cavalerie, and you are welcome to call me any of the three names—I answer to them all—unless you want to continue to preach of disrespect.”
They walked alongside each other in companiable silence, and Macauley found himself gazing down at Adres frequently, noticing how graceful and silent his steps were. He seemed to glide across the rough forest floor, moving over ice-slickened moss and bulging tree roots as if he were walking on air. What was it about Adres that made it difficult for Macauley to remain at his side but also impossible for him to leave it? He’d never had such a strong and immediate emotional reaction to anyone before, male or female. And for a shifter, that could only mean onething.
Butif finding his true mate was anything like his two older brothers had described, then Adres should’ve been irresistible to him. Not… barely tolerable. Something wasn’t right. Macauley could feel it within his core, and so could his wolf. Maybe Adres would be a confidante or a loyal friend to him, the same way the king’s Lord Protector, Ramon, was extremely close with his sister, Farica, and Henry to his brother Taleb.
As they made their way farther down the river, Macauley began to hear the roaring waters of his favorite waterfall. Every now and then, Adres would jerk his head around at a sound he heard and perhaps didn’t recognize. It wasn’t long before Macauley found himself enjoying the vampire’s curiosity. “Relax. It’s just a bobcat searching for food, vampi—” Macauley cleared his throat. “Adres.”
“I am not concerned. I know of nocturnal animals, Macauley. But I admit that I have not encountered or interacted with much wildlife. Vampires are not typically one with nature.”
“Then why stay here?” Macauley asked. “Why stay in a place that makes your skin crawl?”
Adres turned and faced him with a glare that wasn’t challenging but captivating. He stared as if he wanted Macauley to truly look at him. “I had not intended to. Not until… not until you shifted.”
Macauley was breathless. “You’re telling me the truth.”
Adres narrowed his eyes. “You have proven that it is rather pointless to lie to you.”
“I suppose it is,” Macauley rumbled before lowering his voice. “But I hope you wouldn’t want to lie to me.”
Time seemed to ease to a crawl when Adres lifted his pale hands to his covering like he was going to reveal himself only to him, and the alpha-wolf inside Macauley bolted to the surface, ready to receive him. Before Adres’s fingertips reached the soft fabric of his hood, his gaze darted to the left as he snapped his arm out and yanked Macauley to the ground just as three dart syringes struck the tree near where his throat had been. He’d been shoved to the ground so fast by Adres’s speed, he’d barely gotten out his grunt before a strong arm pinned him to the ground.
“Stay low,” Adres whispered. Or at least that was the best way he could describe the breezy words that caressed his ear.
Macauley never felt the pressure of Adres’s touch leave his shoulder, but it must have for a fraction of a second because he suddenly had one of the syringes in his hand. Adres gingerly licked the tip of the needle, then quickly spat at the ground. His dark eyebrows dipped into an angry scowl just as another round of darts struck the birch trees behind them.
“We’re being attacked,” Macauley growled.
“No, do not—” Adres gritted out, but Macauley had already shifted.