Dreams swept over Eli, one after the other, endless and exhausting. They didn’t hold of him like normal dreams do. Always he was aware of the unfamiliar room he rested in. He heard voices, footsteps, distant laughing. At one point gentle hands rolled him over, and pulled the blankets up to his shoulder. They touched his forehead with rough hands. The course feeling made his heart jump in old recognition.

The images that whipped by solidified.

Eli stood in the marine city of Asura. He tried not to look around himself, wide-eyed, as he often scorned the servants at home doing when they saw the inside of his father’s estate, but it was hard not to. Even in the busiest port town in his home-country there was always plenty of landscape to admire. Here all that surrounded him were brick buildings, obscuring the horizon.

There was also the smell. Humans weren’t inherently foul-smelling, but there were clearly too many here packed in together. Sweat, feces, disease all hung heavy in the air. It killed a considerable amount of the wonder inside him. He didn’t come all this way to rule a stinking city.

“King Nedith eagerly awaits your arrival in the palace,” the delegate was a dark-haired youth that clasped his hands respectfully in front of him, and only offered the old wolf the appropriate amount of eye contact before lowering his head toward the dusty ground.

While he did this Eli’s mate came close to him. Eli easily held onto his arm, like was proper.

“He offers his congratulations on your son’s engagement,” the delegate added, unwisely.

The old wolf’s teeth flashed, though his snarl was basically soundless. Eli’s mate stiffened, his back straightening, his chin rising. Ready to stare down his father and show his defiance. Ready to fight for the mate he’d already claimed. Eli’s blood started to hum. There had been so many close calls on the road where they came close to fighting, and he was so impatient for the old wolf to be gotten rid of already. The men that followed them answered to the old wolf. They would do so as long as he lived.

They were escorted to the palace.

Halfway there, Eli became alerted to the scent of blood and death. He spied a building that towered above all the others.

“The colosseum, my lady.” The delegate quickly noticed Eli’s attention drifting. “King Nedith sponsors the gladiatorial fights and games in the arena. There are even Lycans that participate.”

“Lycans?” Eli questioned in surprise. The delegate faltered, his fingers clenching, the pupil of his eye blowing wide to black, and he stared at Eli, in a way that he shouldn’t. Eli almost sighed but didn’t want to let out an audible sound. He’d spoken little during their travels for precisely this reason; siren blood was rather potent. And it was not an ability that needed to be drawn upon, but rather held back. His voice hid nothing of the power he’d consumed.

“There—” the delegate rushed out, seeing the hard stare of Eli’s mate on his face, “there are prizes, and honour and glory to be won. Lycans are more successful than most when it comes to winning.”

The old wolf also stared. His dark eyes covetous, and angry.

King Nedith received them in the throne room. It was a large gathering. One that would usually be loud and clamorous if not for the unease that hung in the air. Nedith was the only human in the world that dared claim the title of king. And even then, he only dared because something that wasn’t human supported him.

Eli wondered what it was that lended its power to the thick, ox-like man sitting on the throne. What creature had blessed a man with such a scowl with such beautiful and numerous children? The delegate that had escorted them ran to a man possessing a similar face to his own, and received a smile, and a hand on his shoulder. Brothers. There was at least a dozen scattered around the great hall.

“You are most welcome, King Varun. I congratulate you on your recent conquest of Griza. It is a fine country to claim.” King Nedith’s voice filled the space of the hall. Eli was impressed; he had not expected much, but the human held his ground even in the face of a conqueror. A conqueror with an heir. With soldiers he couldn’t hope to match. “I wish you a pleasant stay in Asura. I hope you see all that our humble human city can offer.”

There was a tight smile offered by the King. Too tight for the statement to be seen as a joke.

Eli tried not to smile. It did not afford a King to show his weakness so soon, so clearly.

King Varun, the old wolf, tilted his head. Eli noticed the way his pupils dilated, the same way his sons did. They were both keen to fight, as was the way when one was accustomed to the road. Or so his father always told him. Eli always thought the road was not necessary to grow hungry for more. For a city. For king’s blood. His gaze slipped to the throne that King Nedith sat uncomfortably in.

Eli would not be uncomfortable.

“I also,” King Nedith spoke into the charged air, “wish to congratulate your son on finding a bride. May you be blessed with many children.”

More silence. King Varun shifted his weight, his eyelids shuttering down, enough to kill the predatory appearance of his stare. “If we share even a fraction of the blessing afforded you, we would be most grateful indeed.”

There was a sigh of relief. King Nedith let out a chuckle. “Indeed, I have been blessed.”

Eli wanted to growl, or grumble, his blood calling for action. Here was a city, ripe and ready and… he turned his chin up—and accidently caught his mate’s gaze. Except it wasn’t accidental. He’d let his mood slip through. His mate felt it. Sensed it. And Eli saw in those dark black eyes—he also mirrored it.

Eli shivered. He’d made the right decision, choosing the young wolf.

A young wolf, as hungry as he was.

One of King Nedith’s many sons led Eli and his mate to their room. Eli stopped in surprise when crossing the threshold. He had anticipated something large and grand; King Nedith was no fool, but he had not anticipated this. It was a room open to the outside. Stone steps led to a stream that flowed through a grand garden, walled in by carefully cultivated oak trees. The half of the room that was roofed had sparce furniture. A bed, the frame beautifully carved with wolves. A matching divan. A golden marriage chest.

The son left them alone.

Eli’s keen hearing picked up on no eavesdroppers. He was drawn to the river and took off his slippers to step into the water. He shivered as his mate joined him by the water. Just having his feet submerged was enough to stir the siren’s blood within. It started to sing and course through him, bringing power, and the feeling that he could conquer the world.

“Do you like the city of Asura?” Eli turned to his mate.

His mate offered his hand, which Eli took. It was worn and scarred from battle. Strong. “It is a formidable city.”

“Would you like it,” Eli asked, “as your wedding present?”

*

Eli woke in his room with the image of the young wolf’s face in his mind. His eyes, gleaming with excitement and intrigue, and that hint of silver to show that it wasn’t simply curiosity that had him captivated. His hair, kept long, and his jaw, tightly shaved, as was custom for the time. Eli rubbed his hand. He swore, he swore, that he could feel his warmth against his skin.

That was the Luna’s mate, right? Their king. Eli couldn’t remember his name, and now that he sought it in her memories, it eluded him. The word that came to mind was mate, and that just made Eli shiver, his own instincts rejecting the title. He said Cameron to that word bouncing around his mind.

“Eli?”

Eli flinched, jolting upright.

Matthew jumped back, narrowly avoiding their heads colliding. He was on the edge of the bed, sitting so that Eli felt the weight of him against his thigh. His nerves fizzled. The room was empty, no Noah, and the only light came from the bedside light next to Eli’s single bed. Matthew was dressed in a loose t-shirt, and sweatpants.

All the anger Eli had let go of while sleeping came back. His proximity, and the fact that Matthew had been so near while he’d been unaware sent all of his body into an alarmed state. When he spoke, it was basically a growl. “What the hell—”

“Lower your voice,” Matthew’s response was quick and harsh. He grabbed Eli’s wrist, squeezing it. His eyes darted between Eli and the door. “You’ll wake everyone up shouting like that.”

Eli snatched his hand back. At least he tried too. Matthew didn’t let go, and it was if a shackle was on his wrist.

“What are you—”

“Eli.” Matthew gave him a heated look. “I said lower your voice.”

It was a commanding tone. Imposing. “Why?” Eli snapped back.

“Because Noah has only just fallen asleep, and he badly needs the rest.” Matthew let go of Eli’s wrist. “You can give out all you want, so long as you do it softly.”

Eli pointedly looked at the empty bed, and then Matthew.

“He’s on the couch out there.” Matthew nodded to the door. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Eli. I’m sorry for that. I came in to check on you, and I was hoping we could finally take those bandages off your eyes.”

Eli reached up, feeling the smoothness around his temple. Upon further inspection, he saw the bandage unravelled and in Matthew’s hand. Eli must have slept through him taking it off. Eli knew that he often slept through Jenny and his dad coming into his room to check on him, but he didn’t think he’d sleep through a stranger, one he pointedly didn’t like, literally touching him in his sleep.

“I was getting worried for a little while there,” Matthew said, speaking normally, as Eli processed the feeling of deep disturbance in his body. “I couldn’t wake you up at all. Not to mention you’ve been sleeping since lunchtime yesterday, that’s, what? A good sixteen, seventeen hours?”

Eli twitched. Of course. Just because his life was thrown upside down didn’t mean his cursed sleeping habits suddenly disappeared. “That explains why I’m so hungry.” Eli muttered, more embarrassed than anything else now.

“I thought you might be.” Matthew reached over to the bedside table, handing Eli a tall glass of water. Next to it was a turkey sandwich, a selection of fruit in a bowl, yogurt, and a plate of waffles with a bottle of maple syrup next to it. Matthew saw him looking at it. “Noah mentioned yesterday about your lack of an appetite the past few weeks. It’s better if you can manage the healthier options, but the sweet one is there if you really can’t.”

Eli sipped on the water.

“Do you need painkillers?”

Surprisingly, Eli didn’t feel half bad. “I feel okay.”

“I thought you might,” Matthew gestured to Eli’s cheek. “Even for a werewolf, it’s impressive for bruises to disappear overnight.”

Eli blinked, touching the spot. If there was any trace of a bruise left, he certainly couldn’t feel it.

“Do you mind lifting your shirt?” Matthew asked.

Eli gave him a look that said he did. To which Matthew lifted the medical kit he had resting on the ground. “Noah already got his treatment, and I left you to sleep as long as I could. But it’s either I treat you, or you can go to the clinic my organisation runs, and I’m sure you’d rather not get poked and prodded by needles just to rub some arnica on your chest?”

Eli put down the glass, toying with the bottom of his shirt. “Is it even safe for me to be here?”