Werewolf's Way [Chronicles of the Shifter Directive 1] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) (3 page)

The draechen nodded. “The truth often is,” he replied, sounding thoughtful. All of a sudden, that expression cleared, replaced by a pleasant but blank smile. “But let’s not speak of such things. I’m sure you’d prefer to focus on the future, not the past.”

“Indeed,” Caelyn’s mother said, appearing from behind Shtamakarein. “Perhaps a future the two of you will share.”

The prince didn’t answer, but his sister eagerly piped up, “I’m glad we are in agreement in that regard.”

At that, his mother shared a pleased look with his father, who smirked back. Caelyn’s eyes widened as he recalled his father’s words.
He’ll find a mate the moment he steps through their door.
That was what Pádraig had said. So of course, Caelyn had realized the purpose of this trip, at least to a certain extent. But what he hadn’t understood was that the decision had already been made, without consulting him in the slightest. His mate had already been chosen for him, and it was Orzonian prince Shtamakarein.

Judging by the prince’s non-expression, he wasn’t exactly pleased either. But then, that blankness could have meant anything at all. Shtamakarein was simply impossible to read. Caelyn dreaded the mere idea of having to spend his life at the side of a man he couldn’t understand, let alone love. To a certain extent, he understood why he had been picked. He was the closest thing to a sprite prince that could ever exist since their leaders, the Elusian Krites, generally dedicated themselves to their position. They weren’t legally forbidden to have mates—it wouldn’t have been fair, after all—but it was frowned upon for the Great Judges to be subjected to any factor that could cloud their rational rulings.

But in spite of all that, his parents had never been satisfied with their position, which brought him to his current reality. He wanted to scream at the unfairness of the situation, but he didn’t get the chance as a knock sounded at the door. “Yes?” the princess called out.

A servant slid inside at her beckoning. “The show is prepared, Your Highnesses,” he said.

The prince didn’t react in any particular way, but Akarawem beamed brightly. “Excellent,” she said. “Come. Please, follow me.”

They trailed after the draechen princess as she left the waiting room and entered a larger area that seemed to be designed specifically for balls of great magnitude. Curiosity mingled with dread inside Caelyn as he sat down on a provided seat. There were already a great many guests there, seemingly quite eager for the show to begin.

When it did, at last, start, Caelyn’s blood froze in his veins. Huge doors opened, and one by one, several men and women stepped into the room. They were all nearly naked, with just a few scraps of material to shield their genitals, or, in the females’ case, also their breasts. One of the servants from before made the announcement. “The newest prisoners of the glorious Ornozian Empire, courtesy of Prince Shtamakarein’s efforts. Bow in front of your leaders.”

None of the men and women moved. Caelyn watched in horror as the servants of the draechen used shock sticks to force them all to kneel. He realized now that they were all either werewolves or vampires, as the pain was drawing out their secondary form.

And there was something even more important that struck him. In spite of the abuse enacted by the draechen, one man in particular refused to submit. He stubbornly withstood all the pain and remained standing, until the draechen practically jumped him and physically forced him into falling. Even then, he looked up, seemingly meeting the gazes of everyone in the room. He spat on the floor and sneered. “Pathetic.”

Caelyn couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even breathe. Every muscle in his body was frozen. His family’s plans no longer seemed relevant in the slightest. There, captive to the violence of the draechen, lay his true mate, his other half. And the man in question was a werewolf. Fuck.

The Shifter Directive forbade matings between shifters of different castes. Caelyn was not a shifter, so he didn’t belong to a caste. He didn’t have to submit to that law. Even so, he very much doubted that revealing the bond between him and the werewolf would go over well. He might not be legally compelled to stay away from werewolves or any other shifter for that matter, but his privileged position and his proximity to the Tersain put the werewolf out of his reach.

Of course, all that seemed irrelevant when Caelyn looked at his mate. Jenarra be praised, he was magnificent, everything Caelyn had ever wanted wrapped in one perfect package. But even his mate’s looks couldn’t distract Caelyn from their situation, for a very clear reason. The werewolf’s dark, chin-length hair was matted with blood, and his bronzed golden skin covered with bruises and abrasions. His honey-brown eyes were nearly black with hatred, and his muscular body tense, coiled to strike.

It took everything in Caelyn’s power not to lunge at them and demand the werewolf’s release. Still, he couldn’t fully control his abilities or his anger on his mate’s behalf. The room began to shake, and several vases toppled, shattering into a million pieces. As if that hadn’t been enough, the heavy crystal chandelier adorning the ceiling was next, collapsing onto the floor with a deafening crash.

Fuck. Had he done that? If so, he had no idea how he’d managed. Sprites had telekinetic abilities, but not quite to that extent. It seemed clear though that he must have had some involvement in it. There was no other explanation that would make sense.

The so-called accident distracted everyone, and Caelyn was awfully tempted to rush to his mate’s side, following the futile idea that he might be able to free the wolf. No, not the wolf, singular, the
wolves
, and the vampires, too. No matter what the ancestors of these people had done, this had gone too far.

But there were too many people between him and the prisoners. He couldn’t hope to succeed in his self-appointed task. Just trying would be a fool’s errand.

He might have done so regardless had his mate not looked directly at him. There was true realization in those brown eyes, the same one that burned through Caelyn. That knowledge kept him rooted in his seat. It almost seemed like a voice was screaming in his head
, “Don’t go. Don’t come to me. It’s too risky.”

It couldn’t have possibly been real. Yes, true mates could communicate telepathically, but only once the bond was in place. Caelyn didn’t even know his mate’s name, for crying out loud. And yet, he could see the message so clearly in the werewolf’s eyes. They weren’t really brown, he realized. There were specks of green and gold in those haunted orbs, and distrust right next to the need to reach out. Pangs of sorrow assaulted Caelyn. His mate didn’t trust him. It was a sobering, crushing thought, and it stopped Caelyn from moving.

At last, the draechen staff snapped out of their trance and rushed to corral the prisoners together once more. As the werewolves and vampires were led out, Caelyn watched his mate go with a yearning he’d never once experienced in his life. There was nothing he could do but watch in distress, knowing that his mate was right there, so close and yet so far away.

Everything inside him screamed to follow, and he might have, in fact, done exactly that. Sweet Jenarra, he wanted it so badly. But then, Shtamakarein appeared by his side. “Please remain calm,” the draechen said. “You mustn’t let this get to you. I’ll figure out what happened at once.”

It was only at that moment that Caelyn realized he’d actually gotten up. For a brief moment, he turned toward Shtamakarein, meaning to explain, to tell the draechen to free his mate. But that instant was enough for his other half to be taken away and the doors to close behind him.

Caelyn released a soft noise of distress, his knees buckling at the knowledge that his hesitation had very clearly earned his mate more pain at the hands of his captors. Shtamakarein caught him before he could fall. “It looks like this is our cue to leave,” he said to a guard. “Take care of this situation. I’ll be right back.”

As the draechen prince carried Caelyn out of the room, Caelyn’s mind and soul went out to his mate. What was he going to do? How could he possibly help the werewolf and all the other prisoners? He was just a young sprite, a real asset for his family only because of his beauty. Until now, his powers had been of no consequence. He was useless.

But no, he could not afford to fall into self-pity. His mate was relying on him. Uncertainty melted into decision. No matter what happened, Caelyn would find a way to free his mate. He was sure of it.

When he’d first been taken into the home of the Tersain family, Graham had known he had very few chances of getting out of here. Other than him and Taryn, there were numerous other prisoners, trapped here for far longer than he’d been captive.

Learning that he’d end up on display like some pet had disgusted him, but he’d been unable to do anything to stop it. And yet, upon entering the ballroom, he had felt an apprehension he’d been truly unable to understand. It had made him even angrier than before, so much so that he’d even refused to kneel like he’d been asked.

And then, he’d seen it, seen him, the beautiful, golden-haired sprite sitting right next to Shtamakarein Tersain, and for a brief moment, he had no longer cared that he was a prisoner. The only thing he’d been able to focus on was the sight of that surreally beautiful creature who seemed to direct him to a beautiful, brighter future. An angel, like the humans said it. His eyes had been like a beacon of light, blue orbs shining like the sky on a clear summer day. Every detail of his lovely face seemed to have been crafted from divine cloth, out of pure love for the world. His full lips, delicate nose, and those eyelashes that seemed to go on for miles—all of it painted a picture that enraptured Graham.

And then, the room had started to shake, and Graham had remembered his position. He’d realized he was on his knees, and his mate, the other half of his soul, was on the other side, the one of his captors. So far, the world had been pretty clear for him, painted in black and white. It was he and the other wolves against the magical creatures and the draechen, their slavers. But suddenly, he’d been plunged into a reality lost in shades of gray. His mate was his enemy.

Graham’s wolf didn’t care, and it had almost seemed that his mate felt the same. The mysterious sprite had actually gotten up, looking like he intended to approach Graham. As such, when the draechen started to drag him away from his mate, Graham couldn’t help but want to protest. But then, Graham saw something else, something that made his wolf howl in fury and the man in him burn with jealousy and hatred. He saw his archenemy, Shtamakarein, make his way to the sprite’s side and gently touch the lovely angel’s shoulder. There was intimacy in the gesture, and the knowledge of the close relationship between his mate and Shtamakarein burned in Graham’s gut. Instead, he allowed them to lead him away, his entire being protesting at the unfairness of it all.

Even so, he’d never been one to give up so easily. There had been a spark of something between him and the lovely sprite. They might not know each other just yet, but his beautiful angel, like his mind had dubbed the stranger, had connected with Graham on some level.

Deep in thought, he allowed the draechen to lead him to his cell. Taryn had been assigned to one straight next to his, but he couldn’t see the other werewolf. He was surrounded by four thick walls, with no window whatsoever. The only exit, the door, was crafted entirely out of silver.

Plopping down onto the cot that masqueraded as a bed, Graham buried his face in his hands. What could he possibly do to escape this place? He was trapped, trapped like a rat. Meanwhile, Shtamakarein was on the outside, likely putting a move on Graham’s mate.

This time, Graham couldn’t contain his anger. His howl echoed against the walls of the cell, far more desperate than he’d have liked. He hated giving the draechen the satisfaction of knowing they’d beaten him, but he couldn’t help it.

He didn’t know how much time passed while he waited when, at last, something happened. Footsteps sounded outside, ones Graham had learned to recognize. The guards outside opened the door, chuckling. “He’s been quite anxious.”

“Understandable,” Shtamakarein said as he stepped inside. This time, he wasn’t alone. His older brother, Hareematek had joined him. Graham mentally groaned. As if one draechen prince hadn’t been enough. At least he understood Shtamakarein, to a certain extent. Hareematek was notorious for his wild yet cold temper. They called him as chilly and unpredictable as winter itself, and Graham guessed that it was an appropriate comparison, given that ice was the element Hareematek controlled.

“So, you’re the famous captured Alpha,” the older draechen said. “You don’t look like much.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” Graham replied without missing a beat. “I just don’t know how I’ll live with myself now. Perhaps if you’d arrived earlier, you wouldn’t have missed the show.”

“Fancy you mentioning that,” Shtamakarein commented. His voice had no tone whatsoever. It sounded like a robot was speaking, not a man. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I saw how you looked at my fiancé. He’s so high above you that you won’t ever be able to touch the soles of his feet.”

Fiancé
. The word echoed through Graham’s mind and body, burying thousands of daggers into his heart. Images flashed in his mind’s eye, coming to him with a clarity that almost blinded him. He could so easily see the way his sweet angel would look in Shtamakarein’s embrace. The blasted draechen would pin Graham’s mate to his bed, immobilizing the sprite with one hand. He would cruelly bury his claws into the flawless, marble-white flesh of Graham’s lovely angel, uncaring of the true value of such a pure, priceless beauty.