“I am Azriel, and this is my life mate, Asa. We are the leaders of the End’s Shadow coven in New Orleans. We did not come here to harm you. We came to bring word.”
“Word from whom?” Belleron asked from beside Wick.
“Your people. That they have lost faith in you.” The red-haired one clenched his hands together. “When we heard of your relocation from England to the United States, we rejoiced. There were celebrations in covens across the country. Then you mated with the Alpha Zenith, and again, we thanked the gods for your abilities. The white tiger had been resurrected in our king. We thought finally… the royalty we prayed for is here. We thought you had come to see to the needs of your people.”
“Have you even bothered to inquire about the conditions of the covens here,” his partner, Asa, added. “Especially the ones in the south? Their blood banks are practically depleted. Vampires are starving and dying every day. The life expectancy has plummeted two and a half percent in the last five years, and you have done nothing, King Bentley.”
“I did not know any of this.” Wick appeared horrified.
“It is because you will not leave the grounds unless it is to benefit your mate.”
Adres’s chest hitched at these brave leaders standing up to royalty on behalf of their brethren. It was how he and his brothers had lived for centuries. Even if it meant their lives, they had gotten word to the king. Adres could respect that.
“You didn’t come here for us,” the blond snarled, his fangs bared. “Or if you did, you abandoned the thought the moment you took the AZ’s bite. Now, shifters are thriving like never before with more resources than they can receive… while we suffer!”
“How dare you?” Ramon hissed. “Chadwick Bentley is a great king.”
“To his court, perhaps.” The blond vampire yanked at his chain, his voice so full of anger his words were difficult to decipher. “Tell me, Lord Protector. What kind of blood were you served in a crystal goblet by the king’s servants when you rose this evening, hmm? Pure blood from a Virgin Islander? Or have you been too busy feasting on the tasty lady-alpha that sits beside the AZ?”
Ramon’s face contorted as his movements became a blur. It all happened so fast that it felt as if Adres it played out in slow motion.
The Lord Protector was already off the platform, his face a mask of fury and outrage for his king, or maybe to save face in front of the AZ, because there was no denying Ramon smelled like Justice’s only sister, who sat four seats down from him on the platform.
Wick and Justice were both on their feet, their betas rushing forward, but their speed was no match for Ramon’s. The red-haired vampire turned towards his blond partner as if it were their final precious moments together, and Adres’s vision went dark.
Red and orange burned at the edges of his sight as he flashed out of the shadows, anger flaring through him and burning his skin. He pulled his sword from his back, using the magic to propel himself faster as he shot the force of it at the center of Ramon’s chest. The energy was enough to send him hurtling backwards and crashing into the stone wall before he fell to the ground.
There were gasp and swirls of rapid movement as Adres slid to a stop and dropped into his fighting stance in front of the bound prisoners. His sword was pointed at the floor, but it would take a fraction of a second for him to reposition it to kill. The electric-blue light surrounding his blade crept across the atmosphere until he yanked it in. He’d been so livid, his vision clouded with adrenaline and the magic coursing through him, that he hadn’t noticed the massive black wolf that had shifted and launched himself off the platform, landing behind him.
Wrath circled Adres, curling his body around him until he was growling in Ramon’s direction. Adres felt the heat encase him, but it was nothing compared to what he should have felt as embers of fire fell from Wrath’s fur and landed on his garments. He did not burn. He stood within the waves of wrath, cloaked in his protection, and just like everyone else in that room… Adres was stunned. Belleron was watching his mate, admiration and understanding in his dark eyes.
These prisoners had breached the grounds, but not for the reasons they all thought. They were not their enemy. They were brothers.
“I told you a horseman was here, my love! I told you. I knew he would save us.” The red one hugged his partner the best he could before they both fell to their knees and bowed before him. “My Lords. Bless you.” The blond one’s forehead almost touched Wrath’s front paws as he praised him over and over. “Bless the gods.”