Page 31 of Wolf Duke

“Indeed,” agreed the other king, although he didn’t smile. Instead an odd expression settled across his scarred countenance. “Even more so today.”

“Why?” Alaric asked curiously, eager for distraction until he could be alone with Evaine and discard the glittering mountain range currently crushing his skull. The urge to change to wolf form and claw his ceremony finery to shreds was becoming unbearable. “Did something happen? An insult, perhaps? I find it hard to believe anyone would dare. You aren’t known for temperance.”

Darius actually hesitated, which was more than a little alarming. Why such reluctance? “You are correct, brother—no insult occurred. In truth, I wonder if I’m suffering from too much fresh air. My mind is always clear amid the sweet stench of the River Thames and London, but today I’ve been on edge. It’s as though…I don’t know, like I nearly had something very important in my grasp but lost it. The feeling came over me while we were in the courtyard for your queen’s crowning and now I cannot purge it from my mind. I had a similar feeling each time I fought Guy Saville on de Wynter land. There is some connection, but I don’t know what it is and I fear I will run mad.”

Alaric blinked. Never had Darius sounded so unsure. Or confused. He was the warrior who studied his enemies and exploited every weakness, who charged into the fray and defeated his foes with courage and skill and steely determination. “What if…” he began cautiously, “what if Leto is not in fact angry at you and is instead guiding you toward your fated mate?”

His brother king scowled blackly. “Of course she is angry. The Blessed Goddess gifted me one talent. One. And that is warfare. Yet I have repeatedly failed her, and the de Wynters, in taking back the Eastern Lands and Book of Lore from the usurper. Besides, no female would survive a king who revels in darkness and destruction. So I’ll keep studying Guy Saville until I know him better than he knows himself. I’ll torment his followers until they abandon him, then unleash a vengeance so terrible even Hades would be impressed. The matter of she-wolves and cubs, I’ll leave to you and Ranulf. The Northern King is doing a sterling job, escorting your mother.”

The abrupt change in topic was almost Wesley-like, but Alaric didn’t press the issue. It wouldn’t matter what he said, Darius was resolute in his belief of Leto’s fury with him. The only she-wolves he entertained were strictly for one night, and he mostly shunned anyone other than his brother kings or his commanders. The Southern Lands might be very safe, but there was little merriment or joy. All the spoils of war went into weapons, even cubs were trained to fight rather than play.

In any event, after walking for an eternity, the procession finally reached the king’s bedchamber. Once again Alaric had a role to play, but Leto willing, Evaine waited inside. Goddess, he needed her. Just them, alone and naked.

Rowan banged his ceremonial staff three times on the bedchamber door. “The King is here! Is all in readiness?”

Moments later, the door swung open to reveal two lines of female attendants dressed in their plain white linen gowns, on either side of the entrance. In the doorway, Wesley bowed low. “Greetings, my king. Evaine is queen, long may she reign. Your fated mate awaits you.”

Alaric nodded, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming desire to simply roar LEAVE. Instead, he followed the soothsayer into the chamber, watching impatiently as the elder wolf scattered drops of blessed oil around the room, and placed two sprigs of herbs upon each pillow. Then Evaine emerged from the small adjoining room wearing a heavy gold velvet robe, her blond hair unbound and gleaming down her back. She winked at him before demurely curtsying. “My king.”

Goddess. The heady scent of her! And was she naked under that robe? He wanted to tear the garment from her beautiful body and feast on her sweet cunt until she screamed herself hoarse. Just one of the many, many things he would do to her this night…

Lust surged through him and a low growl rumbled in his chest. Evaine visibly trembled, her nipples peaking against the fabric of the robe, and that was enough to change his mind about enduring protocol.

“Thank you,” Alaric said to the small crowd of wolves behind him, his tone polite but uncompromising. “That will be all.”

Darius and Ranulf both smirked as they inclined their heads, but departed immediately. His mother offered a jaunty wave, then practically dragged Wesley from the chamber. Rowan just looked perplexed that he wouldn’t be reading his prepared speech, lighting all twenty ceremonial candles, burning incense in the fireplace, and directing the lifting and carrying of Alaric and Evaine to bed. Fortunately, apart from some hand-wringing, the soothsayer merely sighed and bowed, gesturing for the ten attendants to follow him from the room.

At last, Alaric was alone with his crowned queen. His true fated mate. Should he say something? Make a declaration to recognize the importance of such an occasion?

Alaric opened his mouth but Evaine untied the sash at her waist, the velvet robe fell to the floor, and the words departed his mind.

“Goddess,” he breathed instead, drinking in her naked form like a parched wolf at a clear mountain stream. “You are the most beautiful creature on this earth, my queen.”

Evaine sauntered forward, her hips swaying and breasts bouncing. “And you,” she purred, “are one very overdressed king. Let me be your squire.”

His mate then proceeded to torment him.

After carefully removing his heavy crown and returning it to a velvet-lined wooden chest, Evaine went up on her toes to run her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching and firmly pressing until he groaned at the soothingly sensual touch. Then, with great concentration, she slowly, so damned slowly, unfastened the diamond buttons on his gold and black doublet and unlaced it from his black hose.

“Just tear them off,” he growled as he ran his hands over her silken flesh, cupping her breasts and thumbing the pretty pink peaks.

Evaine gasped as though shocked, but her green eyes gleamed with mischief. “I could never treat such lovely and expensive fabric so carelessly,” she murmured as she removed the garments and laid both over the chaise near the enormous four-poster bed.

“You don’t fool me, Evie,” Alaric replied, shameless in his attempts to break her resolve. “Your nipples are harder than diamonds and I’m drowning in the delicious scent of your soaked cunt. I know you need my mouth. My fingers. My cock. To scream with pleasure, over and over.”

His mate almost faltered, her fingernails briefly scraping his linen shirt like she might claw it off. Unfortunately, Evaine then regained her composure and grasped the hem of his shirt to lift over his head and Alaric groaned at the too-light touch when he needed her claws raking his skin. But at last he stood equally naked before her, and pure male pride burned through him as her gaze caught on his rapidly hardening cock.

Smiling, he took his shaft in hand, gripping and squeezing the thick length as she avidly watched. “See something you want, my queen?”

Evaine pressed her thighs together. “Can I take your cock in my mouth? Suck it until you spend?”

Goddess. He wanted that more than anything, but had to deny her. And he hated denying her.

“Not this night, sweetheart,” Alaric replied softly. “You’ll take every drop of seed I have in that hot little cunt when I knot. And bite your mark.”

She whimpered. “Is it time? I need that. I need it so badly.”

“I know,” Alaric replied, tenderly cupping her cheek. “And yes, it’s time. But first I must prepare you. Go and wait for your mate in bed. For soon and forevermore, it will be our bed.”