Prophesy 2: The Bringer of Wrath (The King & Alpha 2)

“Those are not my intentions,” the vampire affirmed once more.

Mac growled again, his chest heaving and his eyes wild with fight. Alek wasn’t discounting what his little brother’s gifts brought to their pack. His wolf was sensing something bad and they’d be a fool to ignore him. Alek slowly lowered his arm, watching the waves fall to the ground.

“Nice work, brother,” his alpha praised him.

Alek gave the glory to Wrath, the one who deserved it.

Alek was certain that it was not Alessandro the Conqueror. The vampire approaching had no smell, but Alek could see that he was old, strong, and brave. He’d come to them boldly, not like a thief in the night. With no one but himself and one impressive-ass shield. Which meant he was around the same age, or older than Bell.

Alek was on edge. He didn’t know if the lone figure in front of them was a trick, or were they about to be ambushed from behind? Had Alessandro found another army to support his cause? Flashbacks of his mate being captured and tortured assailed him. When the vampire was about twenty feet away Wick told him that was far enough and Alek was glad he hadn’t had to say it, first.

“I would like to introduce myself.”

“Drop the shield,” the Lord Protector ordered, stepping in front of Wick and Bell.

“Please, my lords. A moment. My family’s name… is Cavalerie. I am the oldest, Adres. I am here to honor our code, pledge my loyalty to your crown King Bentley, and to hopefully, swear an oath.”

“Drop your shield,” the Lord Protector ordered with finality.

The moment he did, Alek narrowed his eyes, not sure how he felt about the dominating smell of leather and potent spices that flooded off their visitor. But no one had a stronger reaction than Mac.

“I smell you.” Mac glowered. He shifted into his wolf and bounded in front of them, stopping only inches away from who they now knew was Adres Cavalerie. The shifters all looked dumbfounded, but the vampires gaped with fascinated expressions.

“This is unbelievable,” Ramon whispered. “You are a Cavalerie? The oldest?”

“Yes,” Adres said, keeping still with the huge wolf stalking around him aggressively.

“Never thought I’d see one in person,” Wick said.

“You’ve seen me, my Lord. You just didn’t know it,” Adres said.

“Do you mind filling the rest of us in, because my brother’s wolf says your soul is wicked and corrupt,” Justice said, his voice laced with caution. “I’m not going to ask you if that’s true, because I believe him. His animal not only senses the righteous but the unjust as well. Now, tell me why you’ve come onto my pack lands and why we all smell the traitorous Alessandro Giuliani.”

Ramon shook his head at Justice. “No, AZ. He is not wicked, nor corrupt. His family are the harbingers of judgment. Have been for millennia. It’s why his shield makes him undetectable. It’s his family’s creed. Adres has a reputation of living up to the meaning of his name—the inescapable.”

“I don’t care. I don’t like him. I don’t like that he’s able to withstand your power, Justice. Let me chase him away,” Mac said. He’d yet to let up, his head dipped low and his teeth bared.

Ramon continued to vouch for this vampire as if he was a personal fan. “The name Cavalerie translates to Horseman in Romanian. And, no, his legend has no association to the mythical folklore of the headless horseman. It’s merely coincidental, if not a bit ironic, that Adres and his many brothers are known for raiding immoral covens and bringing victims the heads of their tormentors. Their history goes back for generations, having originated during the Roman Draconian Era when many coven leaders were adapting to some of the excessively harsh laws of the tyrannical ruler, Septimius Severus. The crown couldn’t bring justice for all so the Horsemen were formed. Some of the old ancestors say the Horsemen were sent as gifts from Nemesis, the Roman goddess of retribution. So, the council never hunted them.”

“Okay. He’s a notorious vigilante,” Alek said.

“Not really. I know of the Horsemen. They’re not as active as they were in the late eighteen-hundreds, but still champions for the downtrodden of our kind,” Bell said, speaking for the first time. Until Cavalerie had dropped his shield, Bell hadn’t known why the smell of death was so foul and the scent of Alessandro encompassed them. Now he did. He knew exactly why the head horseman had come to his doorstep. “What does Wrath say?”

“That this man has killed many times in his name. In the name of vengeance.” Alek smirked. “And that he’s not mad at him. Nor is he a threat. Now that he’s dropped his shield, Wolf doesn’t smell any trickery or deception.”

“Southeastern Europe vampire covens were plagued by unethical leadership during the Middle Ages, that’s when my family dominated, through the nineteenth century. Until we got a fair king and a council that worked for the people and not for their own hierarchal games. “So before you judge my actions as righteous or not, Volkov wolf.” Adres spat, scowling back at Mac’s radiant blue eyes, “Know that every vampire is not born into royalty or has personal favor with the king like you’re used to seeing around you. A lot are born into poverty… and are later taken advantage of by bad covens. It was a long time before nobles cared what happened to the commoners. Crimes against nameless vampires went unpunished, so, I did the punishing.”