ALEXANDER, PRINCE OF THE NORTHAuthor: Leigh Jarrett
Genre: Gay Paranormal Romance
War has a way of binding unlikely creatures together.
Alexander, Prince of the North, Alex, should have anticipated that his profound love for Oleander would blind him—fuel his desire to protect his forbidden love and his love's human companion—far beyond reason.
His actions send his small group, including Oleander and Timothy, fleeing into the forest, aligning themselves with distant allies and negotiating with Seraphine, Queen of the North.
Grimmr Coven and the Garam Horde are caught in the middle of two enemies bearing down upon one another; Drakkar Coven and the Queen of the North. Something has provoked the queen to march south with her entourage of animated dead, out of her frozen ancestral lands. She has a weapon, in fact two, the taming of which will surely bring about her victory.
Alexander stood,
staring at Oleander, blinking, blood obscuring his vision. The smooth skin of
his bare chest slick with it—his breathing labored, a growl lingering at the
back of his throat.
The urge to
protect had been strong. His wolfen instinct to preserve his pack had overshadowed
what it might cost them. He should have seen it coming. Tempered himself
somehow. Anticipated that his profound love for Oleander would blind him—fuel
his desire to protect his forbidden love and his love's human companion—far
beyond reason.
His powerful jaws had torn into Drachen's flesh
without pause, leaving the purebred son of Drakkar standing in momentary
stunned stasis, blinking in disbelief as he clawed at the pulsing shreds of
severed arteries, the remnants of his throat—unable to draw breath, finding
only the splintered bones of his ragged spine atop a gurgling, bloody mess.
Sinking to his knees, Drachen had remained so,
perfectly balanced, until his spine relented, unable to support his head, and
snapped, releasing the weight of his skull, backward, where it lolled for a
moment between his shoulder blades in a lurid, upside down grimace before
pulling the rest of his body over with it—
Alexander would have
continued if Oleander hadn't ordered him to withdraw. Separated Drachen's
twitching, cumbersome limbs from the bulk of his body, strewn his seeping
bowels across the white marble floor, and torn the putrid fangs from Drachen's gurgling,
gaping skull.
He wrinkled his
nose, the stench of death clung to the nostrils of his human form as he slipped
into Oleander's chamber. Oleander's human companion, Timothy, was rousing from
slumber, the scent of vampire and human semen hanging thick and distressing in
the air around him. In wolfen form, Alexander's hackles would have been
bristling, stabbing into the chill air, his jealousy of the human who had
captured Oleander's heart, visible to all.
A tingle ran down into the tips of Alexander's fingers as the need to shift undulated through his body. Oleander had insisted he shift out of wolfen form to temper his desire for carnage. Honoring Oleander's request required intense concentration and commitment to the only being he had ever loved. Alexander snorted and shook his head, focusing on their plan to escape from the castle. Their meeting in the war room with Oleander's father, Count Drakkar, and the High Council had not gone as planned. It had gone quite the opposite.
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