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

The moment Macauley had touched Adres’s chest, the buzzing under his skin had stopped. The urge to drop all of his shields and armor at the alpha’s feet had overwhelmed him until goose bumps had prickled over his skin like furry filaments from a dandelion. He had never felt such wholesome integrity or wanted to. He was tainted, his immortal soul lost forever. He did not deserve such goodness.

Yet there he lay wide-awake at the peak of the day, craving it.

Adres’s tongue was dry and swollen in his mouth, his throat parched from his hunger. He was still confused that the little blood he’d drank last night had had no taste and had given him no sustenance, yet he had been seconds away from sinking his fangs into Macauley’s throat each time he had growled in his face, the rich scent of his blood beckoning him. And it was not only Macauley’s blood that he craved, but it was also that frustratingly righteous energy that made…

“Futu-i.” Adres groaned, palming his heavy cock.

He stared down at his dick as if he had not seen it in years. He could not remember the last time he had. Sex or even getting off was something for young vampires just discovering their abilities or for the mated ones. Adres had resigned himself to a life of solitude. It was his destiny to selflessly provide for his people when all else failed them. That job was not possible to do with a mate, and after hundreds of years, he had assumed fate agreed.

He can’t be. Adres arched, his body burning at the memory of Macauley’s touch. He just can’t.

His mind rebelled at the idea, but his lower head pulsed far louder, causing him to groan into his fist. He refused to touch his dick. He could fight this.

Lubrication and elixir leaked from his slit onto his stomach. He trembled in shock, or maybe it was desire, he couldn’t be sure. He was three hundred and sixty-one years old, and no one had ever aroused him to hardness, to such ache, and they were not even in the room. It was the mere thought of Macauley that had him feeling as if he was fifty again and remembering what carnal excitement felt like.

Last night, Adres reveled in being reckless and furious. Being pinned against a tree by an imposing alpha, his naked body pressing so hard against Adres he could barely catch his breath. Macauley thrusting his delicious power into him—

“Ungh.” Adres jerked in surprise as his dick erupted, spewing his seed across his abs in wide arcs. He slammed his eyelids closed and gripped the covers at his sides as his body seemed to splinter into a thousand shards of ecstasy.

“Zeii,” he panted, his head spinning from the sensations.

His body apparently recognized his beloved, and maybe even a part of his heart did as well. But Macauley’s wolf would need to connect with Adres’s soul to recognize his mate… and it was most unfortunate that he had lost that part of himself long ago.

Macauley sat in Justice’s spacious eat-in kitchen, stuffing his face with Henry’s meatloaf and homemade mashed potatoes he’d made last night. It was a bit early in the afternoon for such a heavy meal, but he’d slept late and couldn’t recall eating lunch yesterday, much less dinner. He spooned some extra gravy onto his potatoes, almost moaning at how rich and fluffy they were. Macauley didn’t know how Henry—a vampire who couldn’t tolerate human food—could become such an amazing chef. But when the vampire king’s true mate turned out to be a shifter, Henry didn’t hesitate in mastering the care of the king’s beloved as well. Which meant learning how to do more than warm blood to the perfect temperature.

“Hey. I figured I’d find you in the kitchen, greedy,” Taleb said instead of offering a courteous good afternoon. He sat across from him and placed his briefcase on the floor at his feet before he promptly pulled out his laptop.

Of course. The guy had to be reading or researching something all waking hours, or else he’d have a fit. He literally had before. “Don’t you get tired of reading or looking shit up all the time?”

Taleb snorted, taking no time to come up with an appropriate analogy. “That’s like asking if your wolf gets tired of calling people out on their bullshit.”

Macauley chuckled for the first time in days. “Okay. I get that.”

“Exactly.”

Taleb was too damn smart for what was necessary. However, his ability was one of the most coveted among them. If either of them struggled with understanding a situation, one slight push of Taleb’s power could instantly bring about awareness and insight. But if Taleb used his ability when he was angry, his baby brother’s power could produce a knee-buckling headache, their minds unable to tolerate too much of his knowledge. Perhaps it was good Macauley had run into him first before he tried to question Wrath’s mate.