The Wolf and the Maiden

PROLOGUE

“Rory?! Shít— Let’s go!” Rían Nicolet hollered out as he stood in front of the foyer’s horizontal mirror, straightening out the black tuxedo bowtie. It had been his third attempt to get his brother’s ass downstairs within the last ten minutes. Although the trip to their grandfather’s Glen Cove coven house was about a twenty-minute drive from their East Norwich estate, their sisters’ eighteenth birthday party was going to start much sooner than that. With a bit of speeding and clever maneuvering through the backroads, he could get them there and be a little late, but that was only if they left now.

A shivering soft baritone muttered, “Your Grace, I could go upstairs to fetch Prince Rory for you, if you wish?” Rían’s green eyes flicked to the gentleman in the carefully pressed black suit, his hands reverently clasped behind him as he stood in the center of the foyer’s opening.

Mesmerized for a moment with the wisp of grey-white fluff that had escaped their butler’s carefully crafted comb-over, he replied, “Nah, Felipe. The asshat can hear me just fine. But thanks.” Being a Lycan had its perks, one of them was having exceptional hearing. There was no way Rory couldn’t have heard him.

Just as Felipe issued a curt nod and left the large alcove, Rory finally rushed into view at the top of the staircase, tucking in his shirt with his necktie still dangling down the sides of his chest. Clutching the thick mahogany banister, he bypassed the stairs as he hoisted himself over the railing and jumped down the many feet to the main floor.

“Lucky mom’s not here. She’d kill you for doing that,” Rían smirked, though didn’t really have an issue with it himself. He and Rory often detoured around menial tasks such as actually walking down the stairs when they could get to where they needed to go a little quicker by using other means. Besides, if they had the ability to harmlessly drop several stories with ease, why bother doing things the more tedious way?

“She’s already going to kill us for being late,” he moved in front of the mirror, fumbling with his tie.

“Ya, there is no us in what you just said, just so we’re clear,” Rían muttered as he pushed Rory’s hands aside and helped him with the knot. “I was ready to leave on time. It was you who made us late because you just had to hook up with Sarah an hour before Audrey and Nathalie’s trezire.” Along with having a Lycan father, they were also part witch because of their human mother. At the age of eighteen for a witch, their magic awakens, which is an event called the trezire in that culture. Their grandfather, the Grandmaster of the New England coven, has hosted all of their Awakenings at his estate in Glen Cove by throwing a huge party.

Since he and his siblings were all part Lycan, it appeared they weren’t going to have the thrill of being all witch, like their mother and grandfather, because for the three of them who had already had their Awakenings, it seemed that only a few gifts were bestowed to each of them. Well, most of them, that is. At Rory’s trezire, he was awakened with telekinesis, and his younger brother, Regan, could teleport.

He, on the other hand, had a rather disappointing trezire. Nothing happened. Although his grandfather said that maybe the power was probably dormant inside him and would one day manifest, the older he got, the more he didn’t think so. Because now, at twenty-seven, he felt like the dud of the brood.

“I wasn’t with Sarah. Sarah was the chick from the club on Friday,” Rory smirked. “I was with that hot-ass supermodel Helena today. And bro, woah, she was so… Mmm!” he groaned while rolling his eyes and no doubt languishing in the slutty sexcapade he had with her.

“Yeah, well the twins won’t like the fact that we missed the opening of their ceremony because you couldn’t keep your díck in your pants today,” finally finished with the bowtie, he playfully swatted his younger brother’s cheek, “That’s all on you! Especially if Nathalie awakens with any of mom’s powers. Do you realize how fried your ass is going to be?”

“Eh. Yeah,” Rory winced. As well as being the complete package of what a haughty Lycan princess would be, Nathalie had their father’s temper, hands down! Which probably had everything due to the fact that she and Audrey were daddy’s little girls, too. But at least Audrey had some sense about her. “But I’m not going to turn down a hottie when she dials me up, either. So, Nat can just go pout in her pink fluffy bedroom upstairs.”

Rían laughed at Rory’s bold words, knowing he would grovel in an instant to whatever the twins wanted. He was just like their dad with how he catered to any of their whims. But then again, Rían knew he was pretty partial to doting on them, too. With all the Nicolet males having their father’s dark hair and naturally tan skin, the girls looked more like their gorgeous mother with angelic golden hair. It was easy to immediately fall in love with them and want to do anything they asked.

Rory kept an aspect of their mom, too, though, which was odd when it came to Nicolet males. All of them, for generations, had emerald-green eyes, but not him. Although he had black hair, his sharp facial features and square jawline looked a lot more like their witch Grandfather Jon, he had their mother’s deep azure blue eyes, which is what Rían leered into as he eyed his brother and said, “You ready to go, man-w***e? We’ve got a lot of time to make up on the road.”

As he walked to the door, his brother snorted, “You know, you’d be a little less uptight if you actually lined up a few good lays yourself. I don’t get why you are doing the whole ‘I’m waiting for the ‘one’ shít.” The one being his kamará, the chosen soulmate of a Lycan. It was rare for a Lycan to find their kamará, and most often settled to choose their own mate after years or even centuries of waiting. But with his grandparents and parents finding their kamará, Rían hoped his wouldn’t be too hard to find either. “I mean, you’re a walking saint to still be a virgin, but come on, Rían. You’re wasting your time waiting around when you could be having a good time. Especially with how many women at SecureTech practically drool over you just dying to get your attention.”

Yeah, that would be a hell no for him. Although Rory has no problem with sleeping his way up the employee personnel register at their father’s company, Rían didn’t want a list of ex-lovers on his payroll to deal with once he took over as CEO one day. What a shítstorm of a headache that would be. Besides, having his brother’s sloppy seconds was even less appealing.

“I don’t consider saving myself for my mate to be wrong or a waste of time,” Rían iced him with a glare as he gripped the door’s handle. “I’ll leave all the lechery up to you.”

“You make that sound like some disease,” Rory laughed, letting the insult slide off his shoulders per usual, “to which I am completely fine with being infected with,” he wagged his brows.

Rían huffed, shaking his head. “Oh, I am pretty sure if you weren’t Lycan and healed as quickly as we do, you’d be infected with quite a few other diseases by now.”

“HA! Touché.”

Opening the door, Rían took only one step before he realized someone was on the porch. Rory hadn’t noticed the guy, his shoulder slamming into Rian’s before he realized his brother had come to a standstill.

“What the fu— oh,” Rory eyed their visitor with as much curiosity. With both being nearly six-foot-five, he and his brother dwarfed the guy whose meek brown eyes looked up at them. “Hey,” Rory greeted with a short wave, as he was, no doubt, checking the guy out, too.

It wasn’t the odd hairstyle with the stranger’s sandy-brown hair tied back at the nape of his neck, nor what appeared to be some sort of renaissance outfit he had on because people from other realms visited his father all the time and arrived wearing some pretty weird stuff, but rather, it his smell. Hearing Rory inhaling at his side, he knew his brother had caught it too. Something was off about this guy, and if it had to do with a scent, it most likely had to do with magic energy. Each different type of magic-user had their own unique smell, whether it was witches, faerie, or demons.

What was this guy?

“Can we help you?” Rían pressed. He didn’t want to appear rude and look at his Rolex, but his watch seemed to weigh heavily on his wrist, urging him to get going.

The man’s torso bobbed forward, springing a slight bow, before he said, “If you could please call for the prince, I have a delivery for him.” From his pocket, he withdrew a folded parchment that had an old-school burgundy wax stamp sealing it closed.

Rory scoffed, pointing to himself, then Rían, “Which prince? There are like four who live here.” Four, counting his father, who was the crowned prince yet far from actually taking over the throne when calculating the longevity of a Lycan’s lifespan. Already the king, their grandfather Aron, was nearing three-hundred years old and had a few good centuries to go before he’d relinquish the throne to their father, Adrian.

The man seemed confused with this information, studying both him and Rory as his brows dipped. “Forgive me, your majesties. I did not assume those of your stature would answer the door.” He bowed again, though keeping his head down now as he continued to speak, “I hadn’t been informed of anything other than delivering this to the prince who lives here.” He lifted the parchment up between them.

Rían and Rory stared at it for a moment, knowing all too well as to not accept nor touch something presented to them from strangers. Especially those who smelt as this man did.

“Where is this from? Who sent it?” Rían asked, scrutinizing it as if it were going to spring outward and bite him.

“From His Majesty King Joel, my lords,” his head seemed to bow even more when he announced the name. His fidelity to this king was quite obvious but…

“Joel?” Rory balked, catching a chuckle in his throat after Rían jabbed his gut with an elbow. “King Joel, huh? Never heard of him. From what realm?”

“Please, I am to give this to you from my king and that is all,” he urged the parchment closer to them. “It is of the most importance that the prince receives this.”

Rían still had no intention of touching the damn thing, but Rory —forever reckless--- reached under his arm and grabbed it from the guy’s shaking fingers.

“Shít, Rory, are you insane?”

“Verifiably,” an eyebrow rose as he examined it. Rían couldn’t help but hover over the folded rectangular paper with piqued interest. Examining the seal that had been stamped into the wax, it appeared to be a legit notary embossed with the letter ‘S’ sitting inside a triangle weaved with ivy. But he hadn’t ever seen that symbol before, not in any of the insufferable ‘nobility of the allied realms’ studies he had been privy to ever since primary school.

“What realm does---” Rían stuttered into silence when he realized their strange visitor was no longer on the porch in front of them, nor anywhere else to be seen.

Rory derided, “Well that’s not strange at all.”

“Let’s just get going.” He didn’t need to look at his watch to see that their ass was toast. Not when his cell phone started ringing in his trouser pocket. Rían didn’t even need to look at the caller ID to see who it was as he ushered his brother down the steps toward the blue Lamborghini parked in the horseshoe driveway. “Hey mom —sorry. This weird guy showed up at the door and had something that I think is for dad. But we’re on our way now, promise!” he said all in one breath before quickly ending the call. Yeah, he probably pissed her off even more when he cut her off, but staying on the phone with her a second longer would put them back even more from getting to Glen Cove.

Exchanging his phone for the keys, Rían and Rory hustled inside the sportscar, his brother not even having clicked his seatbelt into the holster before he peeled out of the driveway.

While they ripped down the road, Rory kept flipping the parchment with his fingers, his eyes glued like a shark circling its prey. Rían knew that look. He made it too, a lot, when they were both plotting something that would most likely piss their parents off.

“Rory, that’s probably for dad.”

“I know.”

“Which means we probably shouldn’t open it.”

His eyebrow rose, and not in the curious way… more like the mischievous way. “I know,” he looked over at him. “But aren’t you the least bit interested in knowing what this is?”

“Sure, but Dad will fill us in.”

“Maybe,” his finger was chipping at the wax seal, but not doing anything that would actually break it. “But he doesn’t share everything with us,” he glowered.

“He shares what matters,” Rían pressed, though knew exactly where this was going. Those determined lines were deepening across his forehead. “Come on, Ror, don’t do it.” Unfortunately, they had to stop at a red light which would only make them even more late. But maybe this was a good thing— now he could full-on look at Rory without worrying about keeping his eyes on the road and use his big-brotherly-scowl to possibly persuade him to not be a jackass. “We’ll be there in under ten minutes, and we’ll know what that’s all about. Besides, I bet dad will want mom to check that thing for curses or something. That guy who gave it to us was just… creepy weird.”

“Yeah, I got that vibe too,” Rory nodded. While looking at Rían, he lifted the parchment between them, his face opening up in faux astonishment as he cracked the burgundy seal and said, “Oppsie! Look what happened.”

“Rory— you asshole.”

He chuckled as he pulled it closer to him and unwrapped the crisply folded sections until it fully spread out into something a little bigger than a normal sheet of paper. His eyes shifted along what looked to be calligraphic lettering, but Rían could barely make out anything written from where he sat.

“Well?”

Rory nodded, “Yeah, it’s for Dad.”

Rían had opened his mouth to tell him to fold it back up and put it away when another car pulled up next to them on his right, revving its engine. And not just any car. A red Bugatti with his sandy-haired cousin Stefan tucked snuggly behind the wheel, smirking at him through the window.

“Hey, looks like we aren’t the only ones late,” Rory beamed, then waved at Stefan. Their cousin nodded in return, then his eyes pitched to Rían as he revved his engine again. “I think he wants to race.”

“Yeah, to hell with that.” Rían growled. “The last time we raced that dickhead, he teleported a cow in the middle of the road, and we totaled the Koenigsegg. Dad was pissed for like— months!” Their cousin was part demon, but Rían was pretty sure he was more demon than Lycan. The guy was amazing with his magic —when he wasn’t cheating, that is.

Rory laughed, “Oh, shít, that’s right. Broke both of my legs.” And so did he, but thanks to the Lycan genes, they healed in good time, yet Rían was pretty sure his pride was still cracked and bruised. Rory rolled down his window and waited for Stefan to do the same. “You want some of this?” he egged.

“If you pussíes want to lose again, sure.”

“You only won because you tossed old Bessie at us. If you want to race, then absolutely no magic and we’re in.” Rory wagered. Rían sighed, rolling his eyes.

“First person to grandfather’s mansion wins.” Stefan smirked as his irises flashed red, “And sure, ok. No magic.”

Rian’s eyes flashed silver, his beast rising up to his cousin’s challenge. And when the light switched to green, he slammed his foot down on the gas and shredded pavement as the car burst forward.

Rory’s hand pressed into the roof above them, laughing his ass off as both cars dominated the road space. “Stef must be using magic! ‘Cuz there’s, like, no traffic!” he hollered in excitement.

That was the kind of magic Rían could tolerate, knowing all he needed to do was concentrate on the bends in the roads and not crashing into any innocent bystanders was fine by him. But even as he navigated over the pavement, a bit of PTSD crawled through his nerves, fearing a farm animal was going to suddenly pop up out of nowhere.

Although they were neck- and- neck for most of the high-speed chase, their car started to steadily pull away from Stefan, especially when they came to fewer bends and turns on the roadway.

“Shít, man!” Rory shouted over the loud roar of the engine. “We’re gonna win!” Although they couldn’t see the coven house, the view of the ocean looming ahead meant they were getting closer.

With Stefan about a car-length behind him, and a straight road ahead, all Rían had to do was shift, lay the gas pedal to the floor and they’d leave the little red Bugatti in the dust.

As Rian was doing just that, a bright light erupted in the cab of the car. Gripping the wheel, he roared at his brother, “Rory, what the hell is that?” blinking madly as he tried to see anything but blaring white, completely blinded.

“It’s--- it’s the letter. Dad’s letter! It’s burning my hands!” he cried.

Panicked that he couldn’t see anything in front of him, Rían let up on the gas, hoping to slow down. But when the ground beneath the wheels started to bounce, he knew they had veered off the road. Afraid he would hit someone, a house, or maybe even a damn cow again, he eased on the breaks. But since they were going nearly 200 mph, the wheels still spun and squealed as the car swerved as they slowed.

Rían sucked breath when there was a sudden feeling of weightlessness followed by a hard dive.

Did we go off a cliff?

From somewhere in the white, he heard Rory gasp, “Fuuuu----” swallowed within the roar of the Lamborghini before the front of the car finally hit what sounded like broken glass.

Yet, when water started rushing in, Rían knew exactly where they had fallen. Reaching across the seat, he fished through the blinding scorch and latched onto his brother when he found him. And at that instant, the confines of the car suddenly became non-existent, as if the vehicle had simply disappeared from all around them. And now, it was all water.

Gallons and gallons of water, soaking through his clothes and threatening to choke down his nose and throat.

Not knowing where Rory was anymore, having lost his grip on his younger brother, Rían tried to orient himself. Tried to figure out which way was up and which way was down. Hoping he had chosen correctly, his legs kicked hard under him, his arms digging into the water beside him, as he struggled to find the exit. Seeing a light ripple above both delighted and panicked him, his heart thumping, his lungs burning, as he kept moving toward it.

Was it getting farther away? Am I getting closer?

When his hand finally broke through the surface, digging at nothing, he shot the rest of himself up. Taking a huge gulp of air, his throat ripped raw when he screamed, “RORY!”

Rían waded in a complete circle, looking over the moonlit waters of the lake for his brother. But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Fear fed through his veins as he circled again, now eyeing the shoreline that wasn’t more than fifteen yards away. Even though it was night, his keen vision had no trouble leering over its banks. But Rory wasn’t there either.

“RORY!” He roared, his bestial voice echoing over the water. Just as he made the decision to dive back down and try to find him in the deep dark, a raging splash showered behind him, followed by a large gasp. “Rory!” Rían cried, swimming the short distance to him. “Are you OK?”

“Y-yeah,” he struggled, choking up water; his expression peaked. Grabbing him close, Rían did most of the work as they swam to the shore. After hitting the coarse, black sand, they both were pitifully crawling, clawing at the dirt as if it were a lifeline, as they pulled in heavy breaths. As Rory coughed, more water gargled from his throat, prompting Rían to clap his back and help get the rest out of him.

Usually it was hard for anything to sneak up on them. Usually they could see, hear, or smell anything yards anyway before it even came close to them. So, when the gentle neigh of a horse burst Rían out of his bubble of near-death exhaustion, he flinched up off of his hands and knees, sitting back on his heels as he looked upward at the four horses in front of him. More specifically, the men sitting on top of those horses.

His brows folded, not believing what he was seeing.

Did I die in that lake?

And now I’ve awakened in medieval Hell?

Because that’s what it damn well looked like! The men were in full plate-mail, sans the helmets, with large longswords sheathed at their sides. The chest of their breastplates had the identical symbol as the embossed seal on the letter, bearing the same burgundy color though now embellished with blacks and silvers.

“My prince,” he nodded his head in a short bow at Rían, though turned a suspicious eye to Rory. After a moment of what looked like skeptical contemplation, he also nodded at his brother before continuing, “King Joel has sent us to fetch you and request your audience…” he looked at Rory again, then said, “audiences.”

Rían looked at Rory, muttering, "Holy shít!"