Fuck, Adres’s body was strong and unyielding, his will incomparable to any vampire or shifter Macauley had ever met. Those characteristics in an alpha’s mate should’ve irritated him, but it was the opposite. Macauley had always been turned on by boldness, by anyone who wasn’t afraid to give him the brutal truth.

The time for coyness and avoidance was over. They both knew who they were to each other, and it was clear that Adres also recognized something was off with their bond. Macauley was going to find out what it was, right now.

He pressed close and wrapped one arm around Adres’s waist in case he tried to flash again. He’d been surprised he’d caught him the first time; a second attempt, he might not be so lucky. Holding Adres felt better than anything he’d ever held. It felt right. Their closeness made his head spin as if he was intoxicated as desire pooled below his waist.

A tortured groan escaped Adres’s lips, and Macauley squeezed him harder. His mate began to mutter words in a language that he didn’t understand, and he wondered if Adres was cursing him or thanking the gods. It could have been either. Regardless, he liked how sexy his accent sounded. Macauley cupped Adres’s chin, and he allowed him to tilt his head back and touch their foreheads together.

“Don’t,” Adres groaned, an edge of panic lacing the single plea.

“Put your arms around me,” Macauley commanded.

He was patient as he waited for Adres to do as instructed. Minutes dragged by, and the tension grew thick around them until Macauley was worried Adres would refuse. But slowly, those toned arms slid over his shoulders until he felt cool fingertips caressing the nape of his neck.

“Mmm. Tighter,” Macauley growled as a full-body shudder tore through him.

Adres’s hands clutched him, and Macauley released a breathy sigh, attempting to calm himself enough to concentrate on what he needed to do. He wrapped his mind around his beasts’, making them one, making them twice as strong, and pushed his power into his mate.

“Too much,” Adres gasped. “It’s too much. Vă rog.”

Macauley stroked his thumb over Adres’s bottom lip, watching it tremble beneath his touch. “It hurts because you’re fighting me. Stop trying so hard to block me, Adres, and let me in. Let me see.” Macauley placed a gentle kiss in the center of Adres’s forehead, letting his lips linger on his pale skin before he nestled his cheek against his temple. “Drop your shields, mate.”

Adres pulled back to gaze up at him, and Macauley had never seen such hopelessness in eyes that were so beautiful. Adres panted inside his mouth, his cool breath mixing with his heated one. “You do not know what it is you ask. I can only condemn you to a life of misery.”

Macauley ran his hand down Adres’s spine, his hand gliding over the black, satiny material of his heavy cloak until he reached the swell of his ass. He was tempted to keep going, his cock thick and leaking in his jeans, but now wasn’t the time to quench that hunger. Adres’s soul called to him more… at least the parts he could sense.

“Drop them.” Macauley squeezed, adding a bit of his strength that time. “Right now.”

Adres released a sensual grunt, and his hips jerked forward, his body sagging against Macauley’s chest as if he’d given up the fight. Gradually, scents of berries and ginger and emotions of fear began to seep into Macauley’s spirit. He moaned with equal parts concern and excitement as he encouraged his mate to give him more. To trust him.

“That’s it,” Macauley whispered, nipping at Adres’s neck near his pulse, hoping he’d bare his throat. He wasn’t given that honor, but he was rewarded with a hard cock thrust against his thigh.

One at a time, Adres’s layers fell at his feet, and Macauley didn’t stop pushing forward until he felt the cement-like boulders crumbling as if they were being deconstructed. He felt the second Adres was fully exposed, and he made sure to keep his arms around him to let him know he was safe.

Macauley inhaled again to see what he’d uncovered so far, and the scent that flooded his system made his cock go from aroused to lead-pipe hardness in an instant. He was able to smell a fragrance so sweet it could rival an omega’s. He suddenly wanted to plunge his tongue into Adres’s mouth and taste the sweet traces of plum that was his mate’s natural scent. He inhaled again, as if he were a cocaine addict, already hooked and unable to get enough.

Macauley smoothed his hands everywhere that he could reach. He stroked the imperfections of Adres’s face and the battle wound along the side of his head. He mapped the curves and muscles beneath his armor. Adres wore a heavy midnight shawl shoulder wrap that had a hood ornamented with intricate beadwork and gemstones. Beneath was a black wool blazer with a standing collar that was longer than a traditional suit jacket and stitched with gold embroidery. His muscular legs were clothed in coal-black lightweight linen, allowing him to fight without restriction.

He was magnificent and regal, whether he intended to be or not.

And he was his. Flaws and all.