Chapter 2
Alexander
The werewolf he’d tracked had led him deep into the forest, straight to a thriving pack hidden among the trees.
Firelight flickered across the clearing where they had gathered, laughter ringing through the night air.
They stood in small groups drinking, others danced near the flames.
Alexander was about to step into the clearing, ready to confront the werewolf he had followed when he saw her.
His bride. The woman who had haunted his dreams.
Without thinking, he slipped deeper into the shadows, moving carefully downwind so the werewolves wouldn’t catch his scent. Hidden, he simply watched her. Mesmerized.
Firelight danced across her skin as she moved among her pack. She laughed at something someone said, the sound light and warm.
More than anything, he wanted to walk straight into that clearing, cross the distance between them, and pull her into his arms. To feel her warmth, breathe in her scent, claim what fate had promised him.
But he held himself back.
He needed to figure out exactly how he was going to approach a werewolf pack and claim his bride, especially after what he had done. The werewolves might not be happy to see him. He might actually have a problem claiming his bride. But none of that changed the truth.
He needed her.
Badly. And he would do whatever it took to have her. Even if it meant starting another war.
And judging by the way things were unfolding in that clearing, it seemed that war might arrive much sooner than he had anticipated.
Just then she spoke to an overgrown werewolf and she was staring at him as if he hung the moon or something.
And the brute sent her off with another bigger, rougher and annoyingly handsome one.
Alexander had no choice but to follow.
They led him to the lake, the very lake he’d seen in his dreams. It was breathtaking on its own, but with her slipping into the dark water, it was…
magical. He moved closer, drawn by an instinct he couldn’t resist. With every step, his hunger intensified.
Doubled. Tripled. Until it felt like claws were digging through his insides.
Her scent saturated the air, drowning out everything else.
His fingers brushed the vial of blood hidden in his robes. He almost drank it right then, desperate to keep from losing his control. But he forced restraint. He couldn’t risk losing his mind.
He needed to speak to her. Needed to ask her to be his bride.
The thought alone made something tighten in his chest.
Would she say yes?
God, he hoped so.
He had waited centuries for her. Before the prophecy, Alexander had long resigned himself to living out his existence alone. And now that he had finally found her, he wasn’t about to lose his chance.
He took a step toward the lake, his body moving on instinct.
Her scent hit him. It slammed into him like a fist to the gut, knocking the breath out of his lungs.
Alexander dropped to his knees. His fingers clawed into the earth as his hunger surged violently.
His hands ran over the ground, searching for the source of that intoxicating scent.
She was in the water. Her scent shouldn’t have been this strong. But it was. It was everywhere.
His gaze locked onto a pile of clothes scattered near the grass. They weren't hers. These belonged to the male werewolf.
Alexander snatched up the shirt, bringing it to his nose. The scent hit him full-force, pure and unfiltered. His fangs dropped instantly, punching through his gums.
The need to bite, to feed, to claim tore through him. His whole body trembled with restraint he barely had.
He dropped the shirt as if it burned his hands and backed away, retreating to the trees. From there, he watched the male werewolf in the water, confusion and hunger twisting inside his chest.
What the fuck was going on?
He drew in slow, steady breaths, forcing himself to calm down, to think through the mess. Alexander couldn’t believe it.
The blood he’d been craving wasn’t from his bride, it was from the werewolf who was swimming with his mate.
Why did he associate the werewolf’s scent and the taste of his blood with her?
It didn’t make sense.
Alexander’s gaze drifted back to the water. The werewolf was watching her with such intensity, like she was the center of his universe.
He’s in love with her, Alexander realized. The werewolf was in loved with his bride. Alexander balled his hands into fists thinking of a thousand ways to kill a supernatural being, but then the werewolf turned and stared directly at him as if he could sense him there.
Goosebumps erupted across Alexander’s skin. The stare felt like a physical touch, a hot press of a hand against his chest. He tried to shake it off; to convince himself he’d imagined it, but the feeling lingered.
Then, just as suddenly, the werewolf looked away, his attention going back to his bride.
Alexander watched silently as the wolf swam toward her, grabbed her by the hand, and dragged her out of the lake.
His anger doubled as he watched the werewolf put his hands on her and send her away. Away from him.
The urge to follow her was strong, but Alexander knew he had to deal with the werewolf before he claimed his bride. Besides, there was the blood thing. The blood Alexander needed.
Fuck, why him?
After sending her away, the clearing fell quiet. Only the two of them remained.
The werewolf stood bathed in moonlight, water trickling down his massive frame, every muscle cut, hard and gleaming.
His blond curls clung to his head and fell over his forehead, framing a strong, striking face.
His stormy grey eyes were fixed on Alexander, wary, as his teeth sank into his full bottom lip.
Alexander clenched his jaw, furious that he couldn’t stop staring.
He held his breath as the werewolf began to approach, moving with a slow, sinuous grace that made no sense on someone so large.
Something primal and electric coiled between them, humming in the cool night air.
He stopped only a few paces away. They stared, sizing each other up for what felt like an eternity.
Alexander’s jaw ticked, the silence getting to him.
“Are you just going to stare at me?” he growled.
“I’m waiting for you to make your move,” the werewolf said, stepping closer.
His scent rolled forward in waves. That earthy, wild, and intoxicating scent filled Alexander's nose. He shouldn’t have found it enticing.
It was wrong on every level. His bride was just through the trees. He should go to her.
But after centuries of breathing nothing but that scent in the dark, it had woven itself into him. There was no separating it from his hunger.
He was drawn to it… to him.
Alexander’s fangs punched down, before he could shove that thought to the depths of hell. He didn’t fucking need him. He needed his bride.
He should go to her. Now.
Even so, Alexander didn’t move. He remained rooted to the spot, his mind focused on one thought.
Feed.
But judging by the look in the werewolf’s eyes, he’d sooner rip Alexander apart than let that happen. He didn’t want him here. Didn’t want him anywhere near his precious pack.
Too fucking bad, Alexander thought as he stepped out of the shadows.
“My move?” Alexander echoed as he stalked closer. He waited for the wolf to retreat. To flinch.
He didn’t. He held his ground, his fists curling at his sides.
Alexander wished he would fight. The anticipation alone sent a dark, delicious thrill humming through his blood.
“Yeah,” the werewolf said softly, not giving him the fight he craved. “The last time I saw you weren’t yourself. I have to be cautious. How do you feel?”
What? That was not the reaction he had expected.
“You don’t look like you’re still infected,” he continued, studying him.
His eyes moved across Alexander’s face as if he expected to find something lurking there.
After a moment, the tension visibly drained from the werewolf’s body.
His shoulders loosened and dropped, the movement drawing Alexander’s gaze to the werewolf’s neck where a powerful pulse throbbed steadily beneath the skin.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he added, letting out a breathy laugh.
“Fuck… I really didn’t think you were going to make it.
That demon did a number on you.” He shook his head slowly, as if the memory still unsettled him.
“It took everyone to put you down. And even then, it wasn’t easy.
I never knew vampires were that strong.” His gaze flicked over Alexander again, thoughtful now.
“Then again, you’re a born vampire… so I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.
And you healed yourself too. That’s good.
Really good. Means you’re back to full strength and… ” the werewolf rambled on.
Alexander nodded, barely registering a word coming out of his mouth. His eyes had locked onto the werewolf’s neck. The steady beat of that pulse. The sound of blood rushing through veins.
The instinct to feed pounded through Alexander’s skull like a war drum, each heartbeat of the werewolf’s pulse echoing louder and louder in his ears.
His control was slipping. Fast.
He should leave.
He should find his bride and begin courting her the way he had planned.
Move, Alex, he told himself.
But his feet refused to obey.
A gust of wind rolled up from the lake, stirring the trees around them. Leaves rustled softly as the breeze swept past, carrying the werewolf’s scent straight into Alexander’s face.
It filled his lungs and all he could smell was him.
Before he knew it, Alexander grabbed the werewolf and yanked him close. His fangs sank into soft, warm skin. The most delicious blood flooded his mouth, rich and heady. And he wanted more…so much more. A groan tore out of his chest as he tightened his grip, pulling the werewolf flush against him.