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

Adres’s tongue was stuck as Taleb packed up his computer and the few books he had scattered in front of him. “I’ll meet you in the war room, Lord of Arms. Catch you later, Bell,” he said to his brother-in-law and left the table.

“Well, that was uncomfortable,” Belleron murmured. “Why keep the shield up, Adres?”

“Are we speaking casually, Lord Belleron?” Adres faced him.

“I would hope we can, if it does not offend. Please call me Bell. And you can call the king Wick if you’d like. He prefers it. Most of us are on a first-name basis here. If you give it a chance, you will see that things are different now, horseman.” Belleron’s inky-black hair fell over the back of the chair before he moved a shock of white locks behind his ear when he added, “This is not the same hierarchy that ruled your ancestors.”

Adres nodded. “I certainly hope not.”

“But—”

“I need to witness it for myself. And so far, all I have seen are shifters and vampires mating and living lavishly, safely secluded from the harshness that the rest of the world has to live with every day.” Adres pushed his hood farther off his head, and Belleron’s gaze went to the revolting scar along the side of his skull. “I do not know who I can trust.”

“Has anyone given you trouble?”

Adres thought of Macauley and the way he stalked him at night, the way he challenged him, the way he dug at his core, begging to be let in, and by gods, for a second he had wanted to more than anything. “No. No one.”

“The soldiers have all had great things to say about the changes you’ve implemented.” Bell smirked. “I think they miss having someone so battle-ready and capable commanding the army. Since I have mated with my cherished, my duties in the royal guard have changed to a more diplomatic role.”

Adres appreciated Belleron’s honesty. “I did come here under obligation… at first. Until your beloved, Wrath saved my brother’s life, and as the eldest of my family, I know that debt falls on me to repay. And I will. But I do not approve of the way our species is being governed.”

“Well, you have the king’s most trusted confidante right here.” Belleron linked his slim fingers together in front of him. “Speak.”

Where do I even begin?

“My Lord. Your dinner,” Henry said, placing a crystal glass in front of him filled with crimson-colored liquid that was warmed to a perfect ninety-eight-point-six degrees. It should have had his mouth watering… but it was as dry as tree bark. “You will not find a better quality, sir.”

“I am positive of that myself, Henry.” Adres quirked one brow and glared pointedly at Belleron.

He shrugged. “Okay, so it can probably be served in a paper cup. So what? Just drink it. Nothing tastes more delicious than my mate’s, but I remember Australian blood. It used to be my favorite. Enjoy. I would say you’ve more than earned it tonight. You saved Macauley’s life.”

Adres would indulge this once since it’d been days since he’d eaten properly. But then he’d tell Belleron how the blood banks all over the world were being depleted. And how covens were getting weaker, some even dying out. He took a decent gulp of the rich blood and almost spat it across the table. Belleron was watching him expectantly, and Adres was glad he’d been able to keep his features neutral. He licked the remnants from his lips and gave a slight nod.

This blood was the crème de la crème—it was the equivalent of Almas caviar on a chef’s palate. So, why did it taste as bland as tap water?

Futu-i! What in the gods is happening?

Macauley shifted just before he entered his cabin. He’d heard friends and pack mates shouting his name as he’d run to his house, but he’d ignored them all. That was the closest to death he’d ever been. If it hadn’t been for Adres, he’d surely be…

Macauley pressed his bare back against the wooden door. He was still gasping heavily, the pressure in his chest making it difficult for him to take a deep enough breath. He hadn’t wanted to leave Adres, but he had a job to do and needed to get home to protect his pack.

But, gods, he’d never felt so helpless out there in the middle of a vampire attack, alone in the forest, and he hadn’t been able to call for help. He’d had to put his trust in Adres to protect him. And fuck if he hadn’t delivered.

Why did he do that? It can’t be because of his oath. He swore to protect his king and Belleron… not me.

“Mac! Thank the Mother.” Macauley’s first beta, Bundy, came around the corner with his other two trailing closely behind. “We heard the explosions. Are you all right, Alpha?”