The room remained silent around them as Zacarius looked up at his mate. He knew everyone waited for his reaction to what Devlin did. Zacarius grinned. “It would taste a whole lot better if it was your blood, but I don’t like my werewolf blood mixed with whiskey. I prefer scotch.”
“Well hell, hand me the scotch bottle, honey, and I’ll see what I can do for you.” Devlin chuckled.
Zacarius quickly took the scotch bottle someone handed him then gave it to Devlin. He knew his mate was up to something. There was too much sparkle in his copper eyes for him to be thinking innocent thoughts.
He watched as Devlin poured a large glass of scotch. He expected Devlin to add some of the blood to the glass so he was surprised when his mate drank the entire contents of the glass down.
A moment later all became clear as Devlin sliced a small cut in his wrist then held his arm out. There was a definite smirk on the man’s face as he spoke. “You were saying?”
Zacarius refused to be outdone by his mate, especially in front of his coven. He grabbed Devlin’s wrist and brought it to his mouth, slowly licking away the blood. A mixture of tastes blasted across his tongue and Zacarius decided that this was the only true way to get drunk.
He glanced up at Devlin, noting the arousal burning on the man’s face. “Are you sure you won’t drink any wine?” Devlin swallowed so hard that Zacarius was sure everyone in the room heard him.
“You might be able to convince me.”
* * * *
Zacarius’s head was going to explode. He felt sure of it. His vision blurred and his head pounded. His mouth tasted like a dirty ashtray. He groaned then quickly grabbed his head as the sound vibrated in his head like a chain saw.
Oh, no, wait, that was Devlin snoring next to him. Zacarius rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom as best he could on legs that shook and feet that didn’t seem to want to work right.
He went to the bathroom then washed his hands. Splashing water on his face seemed to help revive him a little. His head still hurt, but at least the spots left. Of course, once he looked in the mirror Zacarius wished they would come back. He looked like hell.
Zacarius couldn’t remember ever getting as drunk as he got last night. He just hadn’t been able to resist the taste of Devlin’s blood mixed with scotch, whiskey, or the wine he’d been able to convince Devlin to drink. The man tasted too good.
Zacarius could only hope his mate’s head hurt as much as his did. It wasn’t a nice thing to think, but Devlin deserved it. The man knew exactly what would happen when he drank the scotch and offered himself up as a mixer.
And Zacarius had been dumb enough to fall for it, and lucky enough, too. He had to admit that the entire experience had been a blast. For the first time since he could remember, members of his coven seemed laid back and friendly instead of treating him like the untouchable royal.
Shaking his head, Zacarius walked back into the bedroom where Devlin still slept. Even after tying one on and being an alcohol and blood mixer Devlin still looked gorgeous. His hand curled under his cheeks, his legs spread wide.
Zacarius wished he could take it as an invitation, but knew Devlin just slept like someone who drank himself into a stupor. Maybe if he got them some food and coffee, lots and lots of coffee, things would begin to look up.
With that thought in mind, Zacarius called down to the kitchen and ordered a large carafe of coffee and breakfast for both him and Devlin. While he waited for the food to arrive he jumped in the shower and got cleaned up.
Twenty minutes later Zacarius answered the door, freshly washed, dressed, and feeling a whole hell of a lot better. He directed for the food to be put on the table then went to wake his sleeping mate.
“Dev, my darling,” Zacarius crooned as he sat down on the side of the bed and shook him. “It’s time to wake up, Devlin, my darling.”
“Mmmm,” Devlin said as he reached his hand out and patted the empty side of the bed where Zacarius usually slept. His head came up, his eyes popping open as he searched around for Zacarius.
“Over here, my darling.” Zacarius chuckled.
Devlin’s head swung around, a large grin covering his lips. Zacarius grunted. He had a feeling his mate wasn’t suffering in quite the same way he did. He was seriously way too cheery.
“Good morning, my prince,” Devlin said as his hand moved over to stroke Zacarius’s thigh. Zacarius could see the aroused twinkle
shining in his copper eyes.
Zacarius frowned. “I hate you.”
“Wha—”
The look of surprise on Devlin’s face was priceless. Zacarius leaned down and kissed his mate. Despite the pounding in his head he still enjoyed the feeling of Devlin’s lips against his, the small swipe of the man’s tongue.
“You purposely got me drunk last night,” Zacarius complained after lifting his head. He narrowed his eyes. “You knew I couldn’t resist tasting you.”
Devlin grinned, looking totally unrepentant. “Yeah, but the sex was great.” Devlin’s hand brushed against the growing hardness in Zacarius’s pants. “You, my prince, have quite the kinky streak in you when your inhibitions are lowered.”
Zacarius quickly racked his brain trying to figure out what Devlin was talking about. He felt his face flush when he spotted the handcuffs clamped around the headboard and remembered exactly how they felt on his wrists while Devlin tied him to the bed.
Devlin was right though, the sex was phenomenal. Zacarius rubbed his hand over his nipple as he remembered something about hot candle wax. He doubted he would see any physical marks as he tended to heal rather fast, but he didn’t think that the memory of Devlin dripping little drops of candle wax on his skin would ever fade.
“I am not kinky. I was tied down to the bed,” Zacarius said as he stood to his feet. He gave Devlin his most regal look. “I had no control over what you did to me after that.”
“Oh please,” Devlin snorted, tossing the blankets back and sitting up on the side of the bed. “You begged me last night.”
“I never beg.”
Devlin chuckled. “Just keep telling yourself that, my prince.”
Zacarius rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep a grin from crossing his lips. He had no doubt whatsoever that Devlin could make him beg again and would. The only thing that kept him from complaining too much was the knowledge that he could do the same to Devlin.
“Go take a quick shower and get dressed, my darling,” Zacarius said as he headed for the bedroom door. “I ordered breakfast and lots of hot, black coffee. I’ll be waiting for you in the other room.”
Devlin stuck his tongue out before walking into the bathroom.
Zacarius chuckled and walked into the main room. He saw breakfast set up on the small table by the window and made his way over to sit down. He lifted one of the domed lids, frowning when he found nothing under it. He found the same under the other three domes.
What in the hell was going on? Zacarius distinctly remembered ordering breakfast. Why would anyone bring him a bunch of dishes with no food? He lifted the lid on the coffee carafe and found it just as empty as the food domes.
Zacarius tried to not be too demanding with his staff but he expected better service than this. Getting to his feet, he walked over to the phone and dialed the kitchen. A voice he didn’t recognize answered on the other end.
“Who is this?” Zacarius demanded.
“You’re in danger, Prince Zacarius,” the voice warned. “They’re coming for you.”
“What?” Zacarius exclaimed. “Who? What are you talking about? Who is this?”
“It’s Stefan,” the voice cried out desperately. “I couldn’t stop them, Prince Zacarius. I’m sorry. I tried.”
“Stop who?”
Before Stefan could answer, the door behind Zacarius flew open and crashed against the wall. He swung around, stunned at the sight of several armed men filling his room until fear and anger took over.
Zacarius dropped the phone and leapt across the room toward the bedroom where his unaware mate still showered, his only thought to keep Devlin safe. Before he could even reach the door, they jumped him. Zacarius grunted as they forced him down to the floor, his arms pinned behind him.
“Devlin!” Zacarius shouted at the top of his lungs. Pain shot through his face as a hard punch landed on his cheek. Zacarius shook it off and glared at the man who hit him. He recognized him as one of the vampires that accosted him at Wolf Creek.
“You’re going to die,” Zacarius snarled. “You know this don’t you?”
The man jerked on Zacarius’s arm until he winced then chuckled. “You’re not in any position to be making threats, prince.”
“You’re still going to die,” Zacarius promised, “if not from my hand then by my mate’s.”
“Ah yes, your mate,” said a voice from behind him. “Just where is your royal consort?”
Zacarius was jerked to his feet and spun around to face the voice. His jaw dropped when he found himself facing Desmond Von Byrne, his former lover. Zacarius’s former lover dressed as he usually did, looking gaudy as hell as he sat in a chair by the fireplace. He seemed to be contemplating his fingernails, looking bored.
“Desmond?” Zacarius asked. “What is the meaning of this? Untie me immediately.”
In a blink of an eye, Desmond shot up from his seat and raced across the space between them, his hand smacking Zacarius across the face with enough force that his ears rang. Zacarius glanced back at him, his tongue licking away a drop of blood in the corner of his mouth.
Desmond pointed a finger at him, his face scrunched up and red as he snarled. “You no longer have the right to tell me what to do, Zacarius.”
“I am the prince of this coven, Desmond,” Zacarius reminded the man.
“And you could have ruled at my side if you hadn’t brought that flea-bitten dog into this coven,” Desmond replied. He twirled around and stormed across the room, mumbling under his breath. It was at that point that Zacarius began to suspect that Desmond might be crazy.
Desmond paced back and forth, stopping to glare across the room at Zacarius. “I would have given you anything. You even could have kept that mongrel as a pet if you wanted. But, no! You betrayed me.”
“I didn’t betray shit!” Zacarius snapped. “He’s my mate.”
“I’m your mate!”
Zacarius’s mouth dropped open in shock as he gaped at Desmond.
“I’ve always been your mate. I was there the day you were born. They said you would be mine, that we would rule together. I saved your neck when they executed your father. They wanted you put to death right along with him, but I begged my father for your life. Me! I saved you, not that damn shifter.” Desmond waved his hand wildly in the air, his agitation clear for everyone to see. “And this is how you repay me? By bringing a dog into the coven?”
“I don’t owe you anything, Desmond.”
“You owe me your allegiance!” Desmond shouted.
“You can go fuck yourself,” Zacarius said as he felt his anger override his self-preservation. He knew instantly that it might be the wrong thing to say. The rage that came over Desmond’s face made him wish he could take the words back.
Desmond crossed the room and gripped Zacarius’s face in his hand, squeezing just enough that Zacarius winced from the pain. Zacarius clenched his fists to keep from giving in to the need to cry out. He wouldn’t give Desmond the satisfaction.
“Oh, there’s going to be some fucking going on,” Desmond sneered. “I’m going to fuck you and make your precious werewolf watch.” Desmond’s eyes took on an eerie light. “Then I’m going to skin him while he’s still breathing and make him into a rug for the front of my fireplace.”
“You won’t touch a hair on his head,” Zacarius snapped. His heart beat increased to a rapid pace as real fear filled him for the first time since Desmond and his men entered his quarters. “I’ll kill you first.”
“You don’t rule here anymore,
prince
.” Desmond laughed harshly. “I do.”
“This is my coven, and you can’t take it from me no matter how much bullshit spews out of your mouth.”
“You’re coven?” Desmond laughed again. “How do you think I got in here so easily? Your coven let me in. They welcomed me in. They want that damn dog out of here just as much as I do.”
“He’s not a dog!”
“He’s a mongrel,” Desmond snarled. He dropped Zacarius’s jaw to pace around the room again. “My father had it right when he said werewolves needed to be eradicated from the earth. They’re nothing but flea-bitten monsters that walk on two legs, well, part of the time anyway. The rest of the time they’re ruled by the moon.”
“Your father was an idiot!” Zacarius snapped right back. “Shifters have just as much right to be here as we do. We’re no better than them and they’re no better than us. At least they don’t try to take out their leaders without a fair and honest challenge. They don’t try to stab them in the back or—”
“Or poison them?” Desmond asked. “Oh yes, my dear, I did hear about that. Sadly, that wasn’t from my hand. I wish I had thought of it, but that wasn’t me.”
“If it wasn’t you then who was it?”
“I’m afraid that was my poor stepbrother, Stefan’s fault.” Desmond shrugged. “The kid never really did good at anything, but he might have gotten that right if that damn shifter drank wine. I’m sure he never meant to hurt you. He just wanted to take the shifter out of the picture.”
Zacarius thought of the friendship that Devlin and Stefan seemed to have built up over the last couple of weeks and immediately doubted Desmond’s words. He also didn’t think that Stefan had the balls to try and poison someone.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Desmond chuckled. He waved his hand at one of the men in the room. “Bring my little stepbrother in here. Let’s let Zacarius hear it from his mouth.”
One of the men in the room ran out, the door slamming closed behind him. Zacarius glanced back at Desmond. The man really had lost his mind. Zacarius didn’t see how he thought he would take over the coven even if he died. He hoped his coven wouldn’t stand for it, but he began to wonder.
“You won’t be able to take over this coven even if you do kill me.”
“Oh, I have no intention of killing you, my dear.” Desmond grinned. “That would take all of the fun out of making you pay for what you’ve done. No, you’re going to live a very long time so that you can savor what I have in store for you.”