Chaos is inevitable when fate pairs the executioner of evil with a man of righteousness.
In all the years that Adres Cavalerie has inhabited the earth, he never thought he would discover his connection to the Prophesy within the Volkov Alphas stronghold.
As the oldest living vampire, Adres was also the strongest immortal of his time with abilities that surpassed comprehension. He was a warrior and guardian, a champion for the downtrodden and forgotten. His name was legendary, the brutal ways he killed, notorious. But there was a secret to his madness that no one of this world understood.
Until his evil soul comes into contact with Macauley Volkov’s righteous wolf.
“You may be a master at hiding your scent.” The alpha dipped his head low and pressed his nose to Adres’s temple, breaking through one of his impenetrable shields, “but, I smell the real you… vampire.”
Adres has come to the White Mountain alphas to fulfill a duty and leave, but after one scent of the virtuous wolf he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. The Prophesy led him to Macauley and his light… Adres can’t turn away from the only hope of freeing his cursed heart.
He had to find out who else he was, and why fate has chosen someone as damaged as him to end the Prophesy?
Război stepped back from the water and slowly rotated his head a hundred and eighty degrees, his ears twitching rapidly.
“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 had 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 of him. Război had been with him for a third of his life, born and bred only for him, which meant they’d faced many of life’s 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 along 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 flash 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. Honestly, his superior, pompous fragrance offended Adres’s every sense. The scent cut off—not faded—in the middle of nowhere, and Adres stopped suddenly, his long cloak flaring up in front of him. There was a pile of men’s clothing lying on the bank a few feet from the water. Adres spun around and focused deeply on everything around him, preparing to be startled from behind, but he heard nothing.
His confusion was causing unwanted irritation to flare up inside of 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.
Frumusețea regală (royal beauty).
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 was 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 of them all—it was how nature intended—but Adres’s notorious killing reputation was well-known around the world. He had no cause to fear.
Thorn Maxwell is no stranger to a bad breakup. It’s why he created Belladonna—a safe haven for the brokenhearted. His expensive and extremely exclusive residence is by invite only.
Thorn’s negative experiences with love have not tainted him to the delicate sentiment, but it has made him wiser. He knows what it takes to heal a man from the inside out, and so do his gentlemen.
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