“It's true then,” Greer said. A wide grin spread across his face as he strode to him. “You came back to us.”
Before Alexander could react, Greer pulled him into a crushing embrace, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing the air from his lungs. Alexander wheezed in surprise.
“I did,” he said, patting Greer’s back awkwardly. A familiar scent drifted from the vampire’s clothes—cold snow and mountain air. The smell filled his nose, achingly familiar.
Home.
Alexander sniffed quietly and held Greer tightly before he pulled back . “How did you know I was awake?” he asked, forcing the sadness away.
“Blade had a vision,” Greer replied.
Alexander’s expression changed instantly. “Is he alright?”
Every vision came at a cost for the half-witch, half-vampire. It was devastating. Each glimpse into the future, left him pale, trembling and sometimes too weak to even stand. There were times he lay unmoving for days, caught somewhere between this world and whatever lay beyond it.
It had been Blade who told Alexander of the prophecy—that he would find his bride in the war.
But what Blade hadn’t told him was that Alexander would lose his brother or that it would take two hundred years before he finally met her.
“He’s fine,” Greer replied. A curious look slowly crept across his face as he studied Alexander more closely. “He actually told us you woke up two days ago. Why didn’t you come home?”
Alexander didn’t answer. His gaze drifted across the clearing. Right to his bride.
She stood among the werewolves, half-hidden behind her packmates, her wide eyes fixed on him with open wariness.
Greer followed the direction of his gaze. “Oh…” he murmured softly. “Is that her?”
“Yes,” Alexander answered.
Greer leaned closer to Alexander, lowering his voice. “What’s with the tension?” he whispered.
Alexander exhaled slowly. “I killed their people before they managed to take me down, remember?”
And now the woman he had waited centuries to meet looked at him like he was the monster of her nightmares.
“Oh…” Greer’s gaze darted around the clearing uneasily. Then, his eyes landed on Boaz, and relief broke across his face. “Boaz, there you are,” he said as he hurried toward the werewolf. “He’s awake." A grin spread across Greer's face. “And it’s all because of you. If it wasn’t for you… he wouldn’t have made it. For your sacrifice, we’ve prepared something for you.”
As if summoned by the words, two vampires emerged from the shadows. Each carried a large crate full of wine bottles.
Alexander watched Boaz, stunned.
The werewolf… was the one who saved him.
Fuck.
Chapter 3
Boaz
“It’s true, then. He’s awake.” Manlius said as he accepted a glass of wine from one of the vampires weaving through the gathered crowd, serving drinks as the celebration for the return of the vampire king swelled around them.
Manlius lifted the glass, swirling the dark red liquid once before taking a slow sip.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he moaned, grating on Boaz’s nerves.
“Is it?” Boaz asked as he folded his arms across his bare chest. The movement caught Manlius’s attention.
“Should I be worried that you’re not dressed?” Manlius asked dryly.