Draechen's Mate [Chronicles of the Shifter Directive 2] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) (4 page)

As he moved in and out of his lover’s body, the fae dissolved into incoherent cries and pleas. Karein’s mind whirled with lust and overpowering need, and his fangs dropped, aching to claim his mate. But as the fae tilted his head, offering himself to Karein, the rush of an unexpected climax exploded through him. With a roar, Karein came, pumping his lover full of seed.

When he began to come to, he was very much tempted to try for a repeat performance. But as he opened his eyes, he realized there was no dream lover. It had all been a fantasy, one born from Karein’s imagination and likely his nightmare.

Karein groaned and leaned against the shower wall. He had not seen the face of the man he’d been fucking, but he had certainly recognized the white-blond hair. Shame rushed through him at what he’d done. He couldn’t believe that he’d masturbated over his ancestor’s mate. It was completely unacceptable. He respected the bond of the two men so much. Damn it.

His arousal dissipating, Karein finished washing up in swift and efficient motions. Any hope for a good mood was completely lost. Grumbling to himself, he stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry. He debated finding Hareem and pummeling him a little to release his frustration, but knowing his luck, he’d probably receive a request to see his father at once.

As he stepped back into his bedroom, Karein quickly pulled on his official uniform as a general. Today was a special occasion, so he had to look his best for the honor of the Ornozian Empire. Never mind that his future mate would most likely see him in his worst moods. For now, he could, at the very least, grant Sareltae the same courtesy he’d once given to Caelyn.

No sooner had he finished dressing than a knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” Karein called out.

A guard slid into the room and bowed lowly. “His Majesty wishes to speak with you at once,” he announced, confirming Karein’s original guess.

“Very well,” Karein replied, “I will be there shortly.”

With a brisk salute, the guard retreated. Karein just had one last item to add to his outfit. From his wardrobe, he retrieved his seal ring, the one that marked him as part of the long-living Tersain dynasty. Karein didn’t wear it on a day-to-day basis as jewelry of any kind could make shifting troublesome. But since today, he likely wouldn’t be changing shapes, the ring would be more than appropriate.

The ring was actually a sort of depiction of Ouroboros, a dragon eating its own tail. It was also the original seal ring of Prince Kael, the only heirloom that had survived him since he hadn’t worn it the day of the Great Sacrifice. No one else had ever used it since those days as its color, black, had eliminated any other candidate.

As he slid it on, Karein murmured a word of apology toward his dead ancestor. He had meant no disrespect in his earlier actions, and he couldn’t dwell on them. “Give me the strength to do what’s needed,” he whispered. “Show me what to do to prevent the war.”

He received no reply, but he didn’t expect it. It was actually very strange. Sometimes, shortly after waking up, Karein thought he could almost hear his ancestor, but there always seemed to be a shadowy veil between them. Karein shook himself. It was likely just his imagination. He couldn’t afford to dwell on it too much.

Taking a deep breath, Karein steeled himself for what would soon come and stepped out of his quarters. As he walked toward the throne room, everyone he met on his way stopped to salute and congratulate him. Some of them seemed honestly enthusiastic about it, although Karein suspected that had something to do with the fact they suspected this mating might keep him from running amok. Others put on forced smiles, but their skepticism was more than obvious.

In the end, Karein was glad to reach his destination. As he stopped in front of the huge doors and waited to be announced, Hareem jogged to his side. “Well, you’re looking sharp,” he commented. “You want to make a good first impression to your new mate, hmm? Maybe you won’t scare this one away.”

Karein glowered at his brother, wishing his brother to just shut the fuck up. Hareem seemed in one of his moods today, because he shivered and smirked. “Well, that won’t work. You’ll just make it worse.”

“I hardly think it could get any worse than last time,” Karein shot back. “Now are you capable of being serious for one minute, or do I have to remind you what we both stand to lose?”

He hated making threats, especially within earshot of the guards, but Hareem’s behavior had become increasingly erratic since a few months back. He’d been unpredictable before, but now, his temper came in outbursts, as if he couldn’t decide how to react to his environment. More often than not, he ended up teasing Karein, who was the only one who knew the reason behind this strangeness. But if this continued for much longer, not even Karein would be able to keep their father from learning the secret Hareem kept.

Fortunately, his reprimand silenced Hareem. His brother nodded, straightening his back, visibly leashing his dragon side. Just in time, too, because finally, the huge doors in front of them opened, allowing them inside. Karein and Hareem walked past the guards into the humongous throne room. His mother and sister were already there, as was, of course, his father.

“Ah, Shtamakarein.” From her throne, Rowenasheb urged him closer. “Very good. I see you’re ready to receive our guests.”

“Indeed,” Karein answered. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

His father’s large dragon form appeared in front of him, the floor shaking under his massive paws.
“Actually, yes,”
he said in Karein’s mind.
“We will be pushing for a quick wedding. Likely, it will take place here since the last thing the fae want is for us to step onto their territory. Keep in mind that your fiancé’s mother will probably not attend. If she does so, avoid her. We don’t need someone like the High Priestess around here. But most importantly, watch your future mate at all times. Remember your task is to find out information that will give us cause for the war. He will make a wrong move sooner or later, and we will be there to exploit it.”

“I live and die by your command,” Karein replied formally. “And what will happen at that time, once we learn something of use for the empire?”

“The war, of course,”
the emperor answered.
“But as your prize, you will be allowed to keep the fae. If nothing else, he will serve as a good vessel to sate your lusts.”

At that, Karein’s mother grinned. “A win all around, don’t you agree, Shtamakarein?”

“Of course,” Karein answered, suppressing his dragon’s anger and frustration. “As always, thank you for your generosity.”

Even as he spoke, though, he wondered how in the world he’d manage to stop the war. He might be able to lie with regard to what he learned for Sareltae, but how long would that keep them happy? What could possibly stop his father’s plans for good?

Karein had a feeling he knew the answer, and he feared it. Because as long as Kavehquader led Ornoz, the paranormal world would be forever headed toward disaster. Whether the magical creatures knew it or not, time was running out, and Karein could do very little to stop the incoming apocalypse.

* * * *

“And make sure you don’t do anything to insult them.” Queen Onyerre scowled at Sari, her blue eyes glittering with barely concealed disgust and satisfaction. “In specific, pay heed to respect your mating. I know that it’s probably hard for you, given that whoring is in your genes, but—”

“Be silent, Onyerre!” Sari’s father snapped, interrupting her rant. “This is too important for you to add further tension to the situation.”

Sari remained silent, knowing that speaking would only make things worse. Onyerre chose any occasion she could find to shower Sari with insults. Although under normal circumstances, she tried to be more elegant about it, she seemed to have decided to clutter as much venom as possible in Sari’s remaining time in Rose Noire.

It was perhaps fortunate that Sari’s mother hadn’t come for this meeting. It was supposed to be a conversation between the members of the royal family, to give Sari some general guidelines he should follow. Eanera had been invited, but she hadn’t shown up.

Sari had to admit he was a little disappointed, but his mother knew best. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted to encourage further hostility from Onyerre’s part. Whenever the two of them were in the same room, chaos inevitably followed.

“I’m right, and you know it,” Onyerre argued with Selbrian. “You’ve been far too lax with him. He is spoiled, and once he leaves the constraints I’ve managed to erect, he’ll go wild.”

From that point on, Sari tuned them out. Inserting his hand in his pocket, he idly toyed with the wooden wolf he’d stolen from Caelyn and Graham, back in Eternelle. He didn’t know how he’d explain having it on him if someone found it, but he didn’t want to risk losing it either. For some reason, the wolf gave him the same sense of peace and strength that a visit to the Obelisk of Eternelle granted him.

He wondered how Shtamakarein was truly like. So far, all he had to go by was rumors. His father claimed that he and the draechen prince would have a little time to get to know each other, but would it be enough?

“Did you know that draechen lay eggs?” A voice suddenly snapped him out of his musings.

Sari turned toward his brother, Darian, who stood next to him, grinning. “Pardon?” Sari asked.

“Draechen lay eggs,” Darian repeated. “Tell me, Sari, will we see you hatching eggs when we come to visit?”

Darian was the oldest of the royal offspring, and the heir to the fae throne. He and Sari rarely, if ever spoke, which was probably for the best, given the comments he made whenever they did talk. Sari was tempted to ignore him this time around, but even he had his limits.

“It’s unlikely,” he answered. “I don’t think my body is compatible to producing draechen eggs. It would be a physical impossibility for me to give birth like that.”

“Does that mean you’re considering a child with the draechen?” Darian chuckled. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised. Like mother, like son. You’d do anything to secure your position.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t bring a child into the world to use him or her as a tool,” Sari answered. “And I don’t know if my mate and I will have children. I’m of a firm belief that certain people don’t deserve to breed because they’re only capable of bringing misery onto themselves and others.”

In truth, Sari didn’t even want to think about building a family with Shtamakarein in that poisonous environment. He had no idea if it was even possible as he’d never studied draechen physiology in his life. But he wasn’t referring to Shtamakarein when he said that. He just couldn’t resist using the opening to show his brother that he wouldn’t allow anyone to walk over him, not even the heir apparent of Ivenia.

Onyerre was too engaged in conversation with their father to react to his comment, but Darian hissed angrily, looking like he wanted to lunge at Sari. “Why you little whore.” He took a threatening step forward, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I’ll make you swallow your words.”

And he’d have undoubtedly tried had their brother, Misael, not intervened. Misael stepped between them, releasing a heavy sigh. “Oh, would you give it a rest, Dar? This is hard enough for everyone without you adding fuel to the fire. Sareltae, please stop. That was uncalled for.”

Misael was forever trying to referee the arguments between the two halves of their family. Out of his half siblings, he was the only one who even attempted to be civil to Sari. They weren’t in any way friends, not that Sari expected it. After all, Onyerre had been very careful to raise her children into complete and utter hatred of Sari and his mother. Misael’s attempts to temper the hostility were never well received by the queen or the rest of her children.

Right on cue, their sister Charlize piped up, “I think you should stop trying to win the Nobel Prize for idiocy, brother. Mother is completely correct. For all we know, sending him there will just cause the draechen to attack.”

As she spoke, the doors to the throne room opened, and Sari’s breath caught as his mother walked in. “Then perhaps you would like to take his place, Princess Charlize,” she suggested coldly. “After all, you are older, and far more experienced in the bedroom than my son. I’m sure the draechen prince would consider you an acceptable replacement.”

Charlize spluttered, her face going red with anger, but it was Onyerre who answered. She turned toward Eanera and sneered. “How dare you show your face here?”

“I dare because I was invited,” Eanera said. “I belong by my son’s side, as always.”

Sari walked to her, already feeling a little better about things. He knew that, as a High Priestess, her time was not her own. She was also forbidden to leave the Temple, which was also the main source of why Sari himself had never been allowed to mingle with other children and get to know the world. It was even worse for her, and the exceptions to the rule that governed her life were few and far in between. Today, however, by the king’s decree, she had been allowed to abandon her usual routine, and the fact that she’d done so meant a lot to Sari.

“You belong in a brothel,” Onyerre shot back. “You and your spawn have no place in—”

“Enough!” Selbrian shouted, interrupting her. “Onyerre, remove yourself. Until you learn more awareness of your position, and mine, you’re banished from my sight. You’ve gone too far in your pettiness. You are disrespecting your throne and your king. Eanera was chosen by Jenarra to be High Priestess. Remember that.”

Onyerre’s eyes widened. Selbrian had never gone quite so far in his attempts to tame Onyerre’s temper. Usually, he tried to cultivate peace between the two sides of his family, a fool’s errand given their current circumstances. It seemed that Sari’s imminent wedding had him on the edge, though, as he continued, “The matter I wanted to discuss today is very serious, for the future of Ivenia. Since it seems you don’t have the slightest ability to concentrate on anything else but your own frustrations, leave us.”