Werewolf's Way [Chronicles of the Shifter Directive 1] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) (7 page)

Without looking back, Caelyn fled the ballroom and headed toward the verandah. His entire being was screaming to find his mate, but his friend had warned him beforehand not to, explaining that he’d need to avoid the area for the plan to have more chance to succeed.

As he rushed outside, though, he ran into three figures completely clad in black. Instantly, he froze. It didn’t take a genius to realize they didn’t belong here.

The strange people gave him a once-over. They had masks on, so Caelyn couldn’t even see their expressions to judge what they thought of him. And then, the tallest of the three suddenly said, “Grab him. We have to make haste.”

Caelyn gasped in shock as one of the other two grabbed his arm and pulled him outside. Had these people truly been sent by Sari, or was it some huge mistake that Caelyn would end up paying for?

“Come along,” the man guiding him said, as if reading Caelyn’s mind. “Don’t be afraid. We were hired by a common friend.”

“How do I know that?” Caelyn asked, at last finding his voice.

“You don’t,” his second companion answered gruffly. He didn’t seem at all as nice as the first. “Just keep your mouth shut and let us handle getting your wolf mate out of the draechen prisons.”

Caelyn obeyed. They knew that much, so they must be telling the truth. Or so Caelyn hoped, at least. Karein was completely capable of staging this whole thing for the purpose of getting even with Caelyn or Jenarra knew what else.

“Who are you people?” he asked softly.

Predictably, neither of the two replied. Instead, they rushed him toward the exit of the courtyard, passing through the darkness like ghosts. They walked quickly and stealthily, and Caelyn truly wished he could have mustered the same grace. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to wear comfortable shoes tonight, but his elaborate robe was long, longer than he was used to even, and he kept tripping on it.

Finally, the man in front of him got exasperated with his clumsiness and grabbed Caelyn, draping him over his shoulder. As they hastened through the night, the sound of gunfire erupted somewhere behind them. Draechen roared, but more explosions drowned out the threatening sound. Apparently, the group had come prepared.

As they reached the end of the courtyard, one of the men leapt over it with striking ease. The guy carrying Caelyn tossed him to the other side. Caelyn landed with an
oof
in the arms of his second companion.

In the darkness, he could now see a number of jeeps parked. There were more men stationed around the vehicles, wicked-looking guns in their grip. “Let’s get out of here,” the guy who’d first grabbed Caelyn said.

Caelyn found himself shoved into one of the jeeps, with his bodyguards taking position next to him. Two other men took the driver’s seat and shotgun respectively. The car started with an obscenely loud screech, taking him away from the mansion and his mate.

“Wait,” Caelyn cried out. “What about—”

“We have another group freeing the prisoners,” one of the men next to him said, gripping his arm in a punishing hold. “Just be quiet and let him drive.”

What could Caelyn do? He remained silent and prayed to Jenarra that somehow, he and his other half would get out of this all right.

* * * *

Graham dangled from the chains in his cell, feeling alone, tired, defeated, but most of all angry. Caelyn hadn’t kept his promise of coming to see him again, so here Graham had been forced to stay, the solution to their predicament impossibly beyond his reach. He’d more than underestimated the draechen when he’d thought he could escape this place so easily. If anything, as the days passed, the chances of him succeeding in this decreased more and more.

Shtamakarein hadn’t been away long, and the first thing he’d done upon his return was to reassure himself that Graham remained under lock and key. The guards had been instructed that no one, not even the service staff, was to enter Graham’s cell, which made Graham wonder exactly what Shtamakarein knew.

Under the circumstances, he could understand why his mate hadn’t been able to return. It still hurt, though, more than the silver chains binding him down ever could.

Outside the cell, the guards were pacing and mumbling. “So, tonight’s the party, huh?” one of them asked.

Graham perked up, trying to hear more of what they were saying. “Yeah,” another replied. “Can’t believe His Highness is finally getting married. And to a sprite, no less.”

A sprite. Oh, dear gods, Caelyn. Graham swallowed around the knot in his throat. Shtamakarein had told him about it, but a part of Graham had still hoped it wasn’t true. His blood roared in his ears, but he forced himself to keep listening.

“Can’t say I blame him.” The second guard chuckled. “I’d tap that.”

“I suppose you’re right,” another draechen said. He sounded a little thoughtful, not as pleased as the other two. “The sprite does seem nice, although a little shy. I just wonder if…you know, if it’ll be enough.”

“Mind your tongue,” the first man said, snarling. “I’m sure they’ll be perfectly all right.”

“I’m just saying,” the previous guard replied defensively, “His Highness is getting awfully close to his two hundredth birthday.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing that he’s getting a mate, don’t you agree?”

Graham didn’t understand half of what they meant. They seemed to believe that something was wrong with their leader, which was truly worrisome if it was the case. Graham tried to remember if there was something specific about draechen reaching their two hundredth birthdays, but he couldn’t come up with anything specific.

“Look, our opinion doesn’t matter. This is a good thing, and we should be happy for His Highness.”

“We’re all happy. I guess I’m just surprised they’re holding the celebration here and not at the main palace.”

They were right. It was, to a certain extent, surprising. Of course, an engagement party could be held at either of the residences of the draechen since from what he’d heard, they were all quite majestic. But logic stated that such an important event would take place at the main imperial residence.

“I heard it’s because it was all very rushed,” another guard commented. He chuckled lightly. “Some people claim Prince Shtamakarein compromised his fiancé.”

Graham gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Just the thought of what that implied made him want to howl in anger. Oblivious to his fury, or perhaps enjoying it, another man laughed. “I’m almost jealous. Have you seen Lord Caelyn’s ass? Damn.”

“Overlords help me…” The sterner one groaned. “That’s quite enough. If anyone hears you discuss His Lordship’s attributes… I don’t even want to imagine the consequences.”

Undoubtedly, that wouldn’t have been the end of it, but their conversation was cut short when an explosion sounded somewhere outside. The building shook, but admirably enough, the cell held, no crack appearing in its walls or ceiling. Dust rose, and Graham coughed, all the while straining against his chains. Whoever was attacking the mansion had provided Graham with an opportunity to escape, likely the only one he was going to get. But how to use it? This residence might be smaller than others, but the security remained very strong. More importantly, Graham was still trapped here. If the attackers didn’t actually come here and free him, he would likely lose this one opportunity to save himself and find his mate.

Caelyn. According to the guards and to the draechen prince himself, Caelyn was Shtamakarein’s fiancé. That would make him a target for anyone who hated draechen so much that they would risk an attack here. The thought made panic course through Graham. The anger he felt at imagining Caelyn mating someone else clutched wildly at his insides, threatening to choke the life out of him.

His wolf went wild, and he started to pull at the chains, despair giving him a strength he hadn’t even known he had. The chains burned his skin as he pulled, and blood trickled down his arms as the shackles cut into his wrists. If this went on like this, he might very well poison himself because of the effect of the silver slipping into his bloodstream. But he didn’t care. It was a small price to pay if it allowed him to save his mate.

Impossibly, the chains and the shackles finally began to protest the abuse. Even with the pain assaulting him, Graham endured, pulling harder and harder, until at last, his efforts paid off. The silver didn’t snap, not that Graham had expected it to. However, the spot where they were connected to the wall yielded to Graham’s strength and, on his right side, crumbled, releasing Graham’s bleeding arm.

Graham half expected the guards to rush inside to check up on him, but it didn’t happen. In a way, he guessed it wasn’t really surprising. The draechen had bigger problems than one werewolf losing control while trapped in his cell.

Outside, gunshots and draechen roars created a chaotic symphony, convincing Graham more than ever of the risk on his mate’s life. Huffing and groaning, he clawed at the cuff still keeping him trapped to the wall. Meanwhile, the sounds of the battle continued to approach, until they reached Graham’s cell.

The soldiers who’d just earlier lewdly discussed Caelyn’s looks now found themselves assaulted by a dangerous force. Graham couldn’t focus, so he couldn’t tell exactly who or what they were. But something about them felt familiar. They were definitely shifters of a kind, but not wolves. Something about them made Graham wary, which only fueled the fire of his fear for his mate’s life.

If they’d come here, it had to mean that they were on Graham’s side. He had to believe that. He wanted to. But his wolf was already snarling angrily, rearing toward the door and ready to attack.

Judging by the noises reaching him, Graham’s guards put up quite a fight. However, the attackers must have been very well organized, as dispatching the draechen soldiers took very little time at all. Finally, the horrible wait ended and the cell opened, allowing several men inside. As soon as he saw them, Graham snarled.

“Well, here he is,” one of them said. “Now what?”

“Just give it a second,” another man said. “We’re waiting for the boss.”

“There’s no time to wait,” someone else argued. “Look, werewolf, we have your mate.”

Graham froze, his wolf both fearful and furious at the threat. “You will not hurt him,” he growled.

“We don’t want to hurt him,” one of the men said. “We were sent here to help.”

Graham didn’t know if he should believe them, but he would, at least, pretend. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “All right. Just let me free. I have to go to him.”

They still looked reluctant, and when Graham sniffed the air a little, he understood why. He should have known. Wherever there was trouble, felines usually intervened to make sure they could profit from it.

Like werewolves and vampires, feline shifters of all types had suffered a great deal because of the Directive. They had been assigned to the seventh and eighth castes. As long as they stayed out of the limelight, they weren’t hunted down, but there was a quieter, more passive prejudice toward them. This, along with the natural disposition of the felines to be pissed off for whatever reason, had guided numerous felines into becoming guns for hire.

Graham didn’t blame them. In fact, he suspected that if the situation had been reversed, he might have done the same thing. He even knew a few felines he could have called friends. But normally, cats and wolves simply didn’t mix, and Graham had no reason to trust these particular ones. They were all wearing masks, but their scents were unfamiliar to Graham.

Fortunately, he wasn’t forced to dwell on his doubt. Another man entered his cell. “Why are we all wasting time here?” he asked. “Set him loose and let’s go.”

The familiarity of the voice instantly set Graham at ease. “Lip?”

“Gods, I told you not to call me that,” the new arrival growled.

A panther-shifter, Philip Strange was one of Graham’s oldest friends in the paranormal world, although at one time, he had been more. Their relationship hadn’t worked out, for two very important reasons. They’d both known they weren’t mates, and taking things further would have been futile. Also, unlike the draechen, werewolves and cats weren’t all so accepting of same-sex relationships. With all the problems they had, it wasn’t a priority, but as a rule, homosexuality wasn’t well seen.

Oddly enough, Philip was also the highest-ranking individual Graham had befriended, caste wise. He belonged to the seventh caste, that of noble felines, and as such, had some privileges members of the last two castes could never benefit from. His situation was, in fact, better than that of the cats in breeds that had been deemed common and who now belonged to the eighth caste.

In spite of all their differences and even if they’d broken up, Graham still considered Philip a good friend. However, he couldn’t understand how the other man could have known Graham was here. Had his pack somehow managed to contact him? No, that couldn’t be right. They’d have come themselves, not sent the cats. And how had the felines even known about Caelyn?

Apparently oblivious to Graham’s thoughts, Philip retrieved a key from one of the other men and quickly unlocked Graham’s cuffs. As soon as the shackles fell, the panther cursed. “Fuck, Graham. You have to get those wounds looked at.”

Graham shrugged. He didn’t care about that right now. “Let’s just get everyone out. Where’s Caelyn?”