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

Elixir dripped from his fangs, and he had to force himself to turn away. Macauley chuckled behind him as Adres went and stood in front of one of the windows with a beautiful view of Mount Osceola. The moon was almost full as it cast a brilliant light over the snowcapped peaks, and Adres could see himself staring out this window just before dawn, before he closed the blinds and buried himself beneath Macauley’s covers to slumber.

If only the gods loved me that much.

Adres gripped the edges of the windowsill for strength, or to keep from ripping Macauley’s towel off. He looked like an alpha and smelled like one too. Like heaven. His masculine soap, coupled with his potent arousal, was making him horny and hungry. Gods he was starving. He hadn’t ached this much since he’d first begun to appreciate the beauty of the night, a young vampire with ample elixir to spread around.

Macauley came up behind him and put his hands on Adres’s shoulders and squeezed, his lips pressed against the back of his skull. His cherished was so tactile, and Adres wondered if he’d be able to accommodate him. He had no idea how to live like a shifter or as part of a mated couple. His feelings confused him, and he couldn’t have articulated them if he’d tried.

“Evening.”

Macauley’s hoarse voice sent a ripple of awareness to Adres’s groin that he tried his best to hide. He sighed in frustration but mostly exhaustion. “I tried to stay away. I tried.”

Macauley pressed himself closer and draped his muscular arms over his shoulders. “You continue to fight me,” he said against the rim of his ear. “All you have to do is give in.”

Adres leaned into the warmth of Macauley’s broad chest, his scent and protectiveness feeling heavier than the cloak he wore.

“Submit to me.” Macauley nudged at the back of Adres’s neck, encouraging him to tilt his head… but he did not. He nipped at his earlobe, growling as if Adres was pissing him off. “You can keep trying to combat me, stubborn mate… hold out… make me wait. What-the-fuck-ever. But you are mine, Adres. I will have you.”

“I will not mate with you, young wolf,” Adres said with conviction, or as much as he could muster. “I will not condemn your animal to insanity.”

Large droplets of cool water dripped from Macauley’s damp hair onto Adres’s cheek and down his throat as he dipped his head lower. “You say that now,” he rumbled matter-of-factly and turned Adres to face him. “I’m a patient man.”

Adres gazed into Macauley’s piercing blue eyes with uncertainty. How could such a gorgeous and remarkable shifter be given to an old, inflexible fool like him? Macauley cupped Adres’s chin and angled his face so they were looking into each other’s eyes. Adres held the connection as Macauley’s gaze roamed his face. He frowned as if something upset him before he grazed his thumb over the long scar across his cheek.

“I don’t know why you look at me that way,” Adres whispered, his body naturally inching closer. He wanted to continue to gawk at the slick hair that spanned across Macauley’s thick pecs, but he couldn’t because of the tight grip on him.

“Because… because you’re so… handsome.” Macauley paused a moment as if considering his answer. “You’re so mature, disciplined… and handsome. I guess I’m wondering why the hell fate paired you with me.”

What the hell kind of vision did Macauley have? Handsome? Adres would’ve laughed if he’d been capable of such things. Instead he wrapped his arms around Macauley’s waist and laid his forehead against his chest. He was so tired he could barely stand, and the energy it was taking to control his hunger was almost draining him. He could hear the blood surging through Macauley’s veins, his heart thudding against his cheek. Adres’s breathing quickened as he began to lose the hold on his restraint.

“You feel that?” Macauley unfasted the clasp of his shawl and removed it as if it was in his way. Next was his thigh-length overcoat, then his armor. “That’s my wolf responding to your hunger.”

Adres’s throat felt as if he’d swallowed a burning piece of charcoal.

“I’m not concerned about sinking my dick and teeth inside of you.”

Adres’s cock twitched in his thin slacks, and he was humiliated at the slow grin that spread across Macauley’s face.

“At least not right now,” Macauley amended as he clasped his big palm around the back of Adres’s neck and guided him to his throat. “Drink.”

Adres’s knees went weak, but Macauley seemed to hold him up with little effort. “Macauley. That’s not a good idea,” he objected, his voice strangled and croaky from the heat singeing his larynx.

“No. What’s not a good idea is me forcing you to.” Macauley clutched him tighter, rubbing his soft beard against the side of his head and down his temple, bathing him in his scent. “Drink, mate.”