Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
An uncomfortable sensation had been under Adres’s skin ever since he’d arrived a week ago, but he chalked it up to being on Mother Nature’s blessed land. He felt certain enough with his powerful shield that no one could smell the stench of the curse on his soul, but he wasn’t around ordinary alphas now. And there was one particular brother who continued to give Adres problems.
“Zeii, you want to consume the entire lake?” Adres stared in disbelief as his horse drank thirstily. He had sent for him and the rest of his important belongings the day after his swearing-in by the king. “Certainly, you cannot be that parched. We have only been walking the grounds a few—”
Război stepped away from the water and slowly rotated his head a hundred and eighty degrees, his ears twitching.
“I heard it too, Răz. But, there is no need for alarm here.” Adres could lower his voice until his words were nothing but slivers of breath he manipulated on the wind, so that even species with enhanced abilities could not hear him. A talent he’d picked up over centuries. “I can smell him as well.”
His horse stomped at the ground, as if ready to take flight, and Adres felt a fondness in his chest that was as close as he’d ever come to caring for something. His horse wasn’t as spry as he used to be, but he still had a lot of fight inside him. Război had been with him for a third of his life, born and bred only for him, which meant they’d faced many challenges together. Many wars. From birth, their warhorses were given daily doses of their blood to extend their lives to match their rider’s. But times had changed—both species had evolved—and he and his horsemen were rarely needed to serve their forms of justice any longer. Not since the new reign of the vampire king and his just alpha beloved.
“Return to the grounds, Răz.” Adres rubbed his friend’s velvety flank just before he bolted into the trees, his speed accumulating a force of wind in his wake that blew the shrubbery around him.
Adres used his speed and followed the sound of splashing water and the scent of goodness in the air. He knew he was close to him. It was the smell of a man he could pinpoint in a forest of ten thousand shifters. His superior, pompous fragrance offended Adres’s every sense. The scent cut off—not faded—in the middle of nowhere, and Adres stopped, his long cloak flaring in front of him. There was a pile of men’s clothing lying on the bank a few feet from the water. Adres spun and focused on everything around him, preparing to be startled from behind, but he heard nothing.
His confusion caused unwanted irritation to flare up inside him, but this particular shifter seemed to have that effect on him. Adres eased away from the edge of the bank as a piercing sensation tore down his spine. He stood mesmerized by the rippling patterns in the water as a massive all-white wolf slowly ascended from beneath the dark surface.
“Regală.”
Adres cursed his first thought. Fierce, ice-blue eyes met and held his as Macauley Volkov stalked towards him. He stopped several feet away and shook the excess water from his thick fur before he turned his large muzzle towards the almost full moon and howled a long, harmonious echo that sounded as if he were showing off. Before he could finish his performance, Adres began a dreary slow clap that made the big wolf snap his head around and growl in his direction.
Macauley’s steps were bold as he advanced, and Adres cocked an eyebrow, refusing to retreat. Shifters were by far the more superior species—it was how nature intended—but Adres’s notorious killing reputation was well-known. He had no cause to fear.
Macauley was only inches away, his black nose level with Adres’s throat. He was huge and impressive… and very beautiful. Beautiful. Adres gritted his teeth at the pathetic quality. A man should not be classified as such. Men should be ugly, his face and body plagued with battle scars. Adres remained still as the wolf’s cold, damp muzzle pressed against his jugular. It was only seconds before he felt those lips curl into a snarl. Macauley’s growl vibrated his sensitive skin, causing that irritable sensation just beneath it to ignite like firecrackers. He was careful not to bare his throat as he tucked his chin closer to his chest.
Macauley pushed his nose deeper into his flesh before he dragged it down the front of Adres’s chest, lingering near his core. If he shoved the curious wolf away, it would be considered rude, and since Macauley was an alpha… it would also be taken as a direct challenge. He wouldn’t call the inspection uncomfortable, merely annoying.