Prophesy 3: His Righteousness (The King & Alpha 3)

“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 one thing.

But if 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.