“So, once a month you go into the full moon mating thing?”
“Yep.”
“Does it hurt?” Stefan asked.
Devlin shrugged. “Not really. Shifting always hurts the first few times it happens, but once we mate we’ve usually shifted for years, so by then, no, it doesn’t hurt.”
“But it hurts the first few times you shift?”
“Sure,” Devlin replied as they walked out of the two large main doors. “Our bodies aren’t used to shifting. That takes awhile to adjust.”
“Can you choose not to shift?”
“Now I can. As a teenager I was pretty much ruled by the phases of the moon. Now, I’m older and more experienced. I can shift when I choose to.”
“That is so cool.” Stefan practically bounced in place. He seemed so excited. “I wish I could shift. Being a vampire sucks.”
“Bad pun, Stefan, very bad pun,” Devlin said even though he chuckled at the
words and the soft flush that filled Stefan’s cheeks. “But I’m sure that being a vampire isn’t all that bad.”
“It isn’t as cool as being a werewolf, that’s for sure.”
“Why not? Zacarius certainly seems to be happy being a vampire.”
“Well sure, but he’s the prince.” Stefan grimaced. “No one would ever do anything to him, but I’m not first born like Prince Zacarius is. I’m not even second born. I have to do what my stepbrothers say.”
Devlin frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked where this conversation headed. “Why do you have to do what your stepbrothers say, Stefan?” he asked, trying to sound unobvious about his curiosity. “You’re an adult, old enough to do what you want.”
“Because my stepfather set it up that way.”
“Your stepfather? You actually have a stepfather?”
Stefan nodded. “My father died during the Great War. My mother remarried.
Prince Von Byrne was just my stepfather. His children, my stepbrothers, were in line as his heirs.”
“So?” Devlin didn’t understand. What did it matter if Stefan’s stepbrothers were due to inherit whatever from his stepfather? What exactly did that have to do with Stefan not wanting to be a vampire?
Stefan rolled his eyes. “Don’t you know anything?” Stefan asked. “Until I find my mate or both my brothers die, I am their responsibility. I have to do what they say. They could even choose to not let me ever leave the house, in which case I would never find my mate.”
“Really? They can do that?”
“Well, sure. Both of my parents are dead so my brothers take care of me. We take family responsibility very seriously. Don’t shifters?”
“Certainly we do, but once you’re an adult you’re in charge of your own life.”
Stefan snorted, a sound that Devlin hadn’t heard out of his mouth before. “Not here. It doesn’t matter how old you are. If you’re not royalty, you have to do what your older relatives say until you find your mate.”
Devlin chuckled. “Then I guess we’d better find your mate for you, huh?”
Stefan smiled, nodding his head eagerly. Devlin started to pat him on the back when Stefan suddenly stiffened and stepped away from him. At first, Devlin thought it was something he did until he noticed Stefan’s gaze going beyond him.
Devlin turned slowly knowing someone, a vampire, stood behind him. He was a tall man, almost as tall as Devlin, but thin as most vampires seemed to be. His choice of outfits made even Zacarius’s princely clothes seem cheap.
The tight black leather pants seemed similar, but that’s where it ended. The man wore a tight gold shimmering shirt and a floor length black leather duster. He topped the entire outfit off with black boots and several gold rings on his hands. He looked gaudy as hell.
Devlin refused to be intimidated. He stepped in front of Stefan and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared the guy down. The man leaned forward just a bit and sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling as if disgusted by what he smelled.
The hairs on the back of Devlin’s neck stood up. He knew something was about to go down. He could smell threat rolling off the man in waves. “Can I help you with something?”
“A werewolf? Here?” The man’s canines dropped down. His claws extended. He hissed at Devlin. “You’re on forbidden lands, dog. Shouldn’t you run home to all your other flea-bitten mongrels?”
Devlin refused to be bated. He merely arched an eyebrow and waited. In his experience, the quickest way to piss someone off was not to react to them. He was right. The vampire lunged at him, his clawed hands wrapping around Devlin’s throat.
Devlin knew the man could kill him with one swipe of his razor sharp claws. He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He just waited. If it came down to it, Devlin was confident enough in his abilities to protect himself.
He’d given his promise to Zacarius, though, to try and get along with the members of the coven. He’d give it his best shot. However, if it came down to a choice between his life and the vampire’s, he’d protect himself.
“You dare to lay a hand on my royal consort?” a loud anger-filled voice snapped from behind Devlin.
“Prince Zacarius?” the vampire with his hands around Devlin’s throat asked. He glanced past Devlin to Zacarius then back again. “Your royal consort? But—”
Zacarius and Stefan stood behind him so Devlin felt pretty sure he was the only one that saw the barely controlled rage in the man’s eyes. The fingers around Devlin’s throat tightened briefly and Devlin saw his death in the vampire’s eyes. He knew, given half a chance, the man would kill him without hesitation.
“Desmond!” Zacarius shouted. “You will release my mate this second.”
Desmond slowly removed his hand from Devlin’s throat. The snarl he gave Devlin left his face by the time he looked over at Zacarius. He started to step toward the prince, but Devlin moved for the first time, stepping between them. He bared his teeth and growled.
“Touch my mate and his anger will be the last of your worries.” The smirk Desmond gave him raised the hackles on Devlin’s neck. He didn’t like it one bit, and he liked Desmond even less.
“I would never harm my prince,” Desmond said. He cast Zacarius a look that Devlin could only interpret as fond. “Zacarius and I are old, old friends. Isn’t that right, Zacarius?”
Devlin felt Zacarius press a hand against his back. He could only think the man needed to lessen whatever verbal blow he was about to hear. He took a deep breath and braced himself.
“Once upon a time we were old friends, Desmond,” Zacarius replied. “That was over a hundred years ago and long forgotten. And now that I have mated, it will also never be again.”
“I’m hurt that you could forget our association so fast, Zacarius,” Desmond said, one hand pressing against his chest. “After all we meant to each other.”
Devlin wanted to roll his eyes, but he wasn’t about to take them off Desmond. He could barely keep from jumping across the few steps separating them and attacking the man. He had to clench his fists, digging his nails into the palms of his hand just to keep them at his side.
“We didn’t mean that much to each other, Desmond. We had a brief affair that was over a long time ago. I have Devlin now and we’re mated. End of story. Now, you can either deal with that or you can leave the coven because Devlin stays.”
“You would make me leave our coven because of this…this dog?” Desmond snarled. “After all we’ve meant to each other?”
Zacarius leapt forward before Devlin could stop him, striking Desmond across the face. Desmond fell back, his hand coming up to cover the four long scratches on his face, blood seeping through his fingers from the wounds.
“Never speak of my mate like that again,” Zacarius snapped. “He’s worth a hundred of you, and I would sooner see you die then make my mate leave.”
Devlin was impressed. Zacarius was a force to be reckoned with when angry. Still, it wouldn’t do for the blood sucker to think he needed his mate to stand up for him. He also needed to make it perfectly clear to Desmond just who Zacarius belonged to.
He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Zacarius, pulling his body back to rest against him. Zacarius’s hands came up and held onto Devlin’s arm. A pained look crossed Desmond’s face when he saw how easy Zacarius leaned into Devlin’s arms.
Devlin let his claws extend. He gently rubbed the back of his hand down Zacarius’s cheek as he glared across at Desmond. “As Zacarius has stated, whatever was between you ended a long time ago. He belongs to me now, and he will until our dying day.”
Desmond’s lips thinned. Devlin could swear that his features changed as anger overcame him, but when Devlin blinked Desmond looked normal again. Devlin shuddered as a chill of foreboding shot down his spine.
Desmond bowed. “So be it.”
Chapter 11
Zacarius sat back in his chair and watched Devlin move about the room. He stopped here and there to talk to people but mostly he kept mingling. He’d worried that the people of his coven wouldn’t be able to accept his mate. Except for a few hold outs, most everyone seemed to welcome him.
It hadn’t been easy. Devlin received a lot of crap from the people in the coven. He seemed to take it in stride, but Zacarius wondered. No one wanted to live in a place where everyone made them feel unwanted.
Zacarius tried to fill in the gaps, making sure Devlin knew he was wanted, but a guy needed friends beyond his mate. Devlin’s friendship with Stefan seemed to be going pretty well. They seemed to have a lot to talk about. Now that Stefan’s brother, Desmond, had ordered him home, Zacarius hoped that Devlin would make other friends.
“Your wine, Prince Zacarius.”
Zacarius turned and smiled at Alfred, taking the glass of wine. He started to bring it to his lips when a glare from across the room caught his attention. Zacarius heaved a sigh and set his glass down on the table next to him.
Devlin insisted on sampling everything he ate or drank before it passed his lips. True, someone tried to poison him, but Zacarius still hadn’t been able to figure out who did it. He trusted the people in his coven. At least, he wanted to.
These people were his family. He grew up around them. He watched them grow up. He celebrated with them when a child was born, mourned with them when a loved one passed. He protected them and was protected by them in return.
He didn’t want to entertain the possibility that one of them might be out to kill him. It just didn’t bare thinking about. It made his heart ache, not because someone wanted him dead. That just pissed him off. But because someone he thought of as family wanted him dead.
Absently, Zacarius reached for his glass of wine again, jumping a little when it was pulled out of his hand. He titled his head back to find Devlin standing behind him, taking a small sip of the wine.
Devlin grimaced and handed it back. Zacarius chuckled as he took a sip. Devlin hated wine but he insisted every single time Zacarius drank some that he taste test it first. He felt pretty sure Devlin wished he drank beer.
“Enjoying yourself, my darling?” Zacarius asked as he watched Devlin move around to sit on the arm of his chair.
“You do know that I scratch my balls and drink beer, right?”
“Uh, yes,” Zacarius answered, not quite sure where that question lead to.
Devlin chuckled and nodded out towards the crowd. “So do they.”
Zacarius dropped his head into one hand. “Oh damn, what did you do?”
“Nothing, I swear.”
Zacarius wasn’t sure he believed his mate. There seemed to be too much amusement in his voice. He was about to delve deeper into this mystery when one of the coven members stepped forward.
“Your highness,” the man said, nodding respectfully. Devlin glanced over at Zacarius and rolled his eyes. “Might I borrow your royal consort for a moment?”
“I think that would depend on him,” Zacarius answered. “Maybe you should address the question to Devlin?”
“Yes, of course,” the man said quickly. “I do apologize.”
Zacarius nodded, waving his hand.
“Your highness,” the man said, addressing Devlin this time. “I wondered if—”
“Marcus, what did I tell you about that highness stuff?”
“Uh, yes, Devlin.” Marcus’s face flushed. Zacarius wondered if he might pass out where he stood. “Devlin, I wondered if you could show us those shot things you mentioned earlier?”
“I’d be happy to, Marcus.” Zacarius glanced up at his mate when Devlin leaned toward him. He received a small kiss on his lips before Devlin hopped up and walked away with Marcus. “Now, do you have a bottle of good whiskey?”
Zacarius frowned, confused by what just happened until Devlin’s words began to sink in. Shot thing? Whiskey? Oh hell! He jumped to his feet and ran after his mate, finding him in the kitchen surrounded by vampires. Sitting on the countertop in front of him where several small glasses filled with a dark amber liquid.
As Zacarius watched, Devlin picked up one of the glasses and placed it against his lips, tossing his head back. He swallowed down all of the liquid in one shot before slamming the glass back down on the table.
He coughed a few times, pounding on his chest. “Damn, that tasted good. Burns a little though.” Devlin grinned as he looked over at Marcus. “Now, you try it.”
Zacarius watched, stunned, as Marcus repeated Devlin’s actions, right down to the coughing and slamming the glass on the countertop. Fuck! Devlin was teaching his vampires how to drink shots. The coven would never be the same again.
“You know, Devlin,” he said as he stepped forward, “it takes a lot of alcohol to get a vampire drunk. Our metabolism burns it off too quickly.” Zacarius reached into the fridge and pulled out a bag of blood. “Now, if you were to add a little of this to the whiskey…”
Devlin’s eyes twinkled as he cut the tip off the bag off and poured some of the blood into a shot glass then added some whiskey. He handed the glass over. “Please, proceed.”
Zacarius grinned, taking the challenge his mate gave him. He put the glass to his lips and quickly tilted his head back, swallowing down every drop of liquid. His eyes watered as he placed the glass back on the counter instead of slamming it down.