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

He didn’t want to interrupt whatever it was this vampire and alpha were doing. He could smell they were not mates, but the vampire reeked of the shifter’s pheromones. It was enough to sour Adres’s stomach and turn his appetite.

“Taleb. This gentleman needs no introduction in our species, but it is my great honor to present to you the eldest of the Cavalerie clan. I give you the Lord of Arms, Adres Neculai.”

Taleb’s nostrils flared as the vampire slid from his lap, and he stood and took Adres’s outstretched hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you since I returned, Lord Adres.”

Adres matched the alpha’s grip before he released his palm. “I would not believe everything I hear, Alpha. And please… Adres is more than respectable enough for me. I have never been much for formalities.”

Taleb grinned, his full lips curving into something cunning. “I know.”

La naiba.

Taleb assessed him with deep blue eyes that weren’t as brilliant as his brother’s but no less sharp. Wise. “Henry has been going on and on about you and your family for days. I feel like I already know you.”

Adres kept his back rigid, but inside he slumped with relief as he sat in the chair Belleron offered.

The slim vampire stood to the side of Taleb’s chair, his cheeks still flushed from probably being caught. “My Lord. I am Henry Fitzwell, King Bentley’s Lord Chamberlain.”

Lord Chamberlain. Adres sneered. An embarrassment of riches.

“I tend to the king’s home and any domestic needs he or his beloved may have.” Henry gazed down at Taleb, and his fingers twitched as if he was restraining himself from touching him. “But mainly I just cook a lot of meat for a bunch of the AZ’s brothers.”

“I told you to stop cooking for them and only cook for me,” Taleb growled, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he wrapped his muscular arm around Henry’s waist and pulled him close.

Henry was quick as he maneuvered out of the hold. “I do not think that is appropriate right now,” he attempted to whisper, but of course they all heard it.

“Can I get you dinner, Lord Adres? It would be an honor to serve you.”

Taleb growled low, but Adres ignored it.

“No, thank you, and—”

“You should eat,” Belleron insisted. “Wick’s officers do not get much downtime to venture into the city for donors.”

“I have a rare type-O blood from an Australian aristocrat, my Lord. It is divine if I may say so myself,” Henry said proudly, his grin stretching across his face and making him appear far younger than he probably was. Adres figured he couldn’t have been any more than sixty or seventy years old.

“That would be much appreciated.” It did sound delicious, and he had been starving earlier when he’d been close to Macauley. “But please do not go to any trouble. I am used to surviving on minimal means. I have lived off the blood of sewer rats more times than I care to admit… so am not overly selective, Lord Henry.”

“That sounds absolutely hideous.” Henry cringed, and Adres was glad he’d said it. “I couldn’t imagine.”

“I am sure you could not,” Adres gritted out. Maybe they should hear how others less fortunate had to survive.

Henry must’ve picked up on Adres’s tone because he gave him an uncomfortable smile before he bowed and left, disappearing through a set of double doors that Adres assumed led to the kitchen.

“You will have no problems from me, Lord of Arms,” Taleb spoke. “My wolf likes you. You are wise and extremely intelligent.”

Adres didn’t say thank you because that hardly felt like a compliment.

“But rest assured. I will tear your goddamn throat out if you in any way upset the man that’s about to serve you.”

Adres didn’t appreciate the threat, but he knew not to challenge a man in his own home at his own dinner table. “I would never—”

“Yes, you will.” Taleb closed his laptop and sat back in his seat, his hard glare freezing Adres in place.

Damn these alphas.

“One look in your eyes and I could read your disdain. You will judge us, call us arrogant, privileged. Even our titles offend you, my Lord. So, I asked myself, why on earth would you swear an oath and assume one to serve the royals you despise?” Taleb narrowed his eyes. “Unless you hadn’t intended to stay… until you got here.”

La naiba, this man was too smart. He spoke as if he was one thousand years old. He spoke as if he was inside Adres’s mind. Imposibil.

“You have lived and learned much, and I have no doubt that you are wise beyond your many years.” Taleb rose to his feet, and he had to be at least six-two, his broad chest stretching his white dress shirt. “But unless you want that journey to end now, be mindful of who you judge while you are on this land. I don’t know your story, Cavalerie, and you don’t know ours. But I will say that you won’t find what you’re here searching for if you don’t open yourself up to receive it.”