“Just an observation, my lord, but you have a big night ahead of you. Keep pacing like that and you’re likely to wear yourself out.”
Kael halted and whirled on Liam, arms crossed and leaning against the wall by the door. The warrior’s smirk was good-natured, and Kael chuckled and shook his head. He’d nearly forgotten Liam’s presence in wondering what Shayla would look like. But as his second in command, he’d helped the king ready his clothing and adorn his body for the ritual. His garments all shared the deep crimson and gold of his clan crest, though the red was more significant for its reference to the blood that would bind him and Shayla together. The leather hugged his thighs, tormenting his already sensitive body. He couldn’t don the cloak, though, until the blood marking his skin fully dried.
In front of a mirror, Kael carefully fingered the red smears coloring the knot over his heart. He twisted his torso to see the marks on his arm and back, too.
Liam appeared in the mirror behind him. “Dry?”
Kael nodded, simply mesmerized by a sight he thought he’d never see again—the ancient symbols for fidelity, fertility, protection and eternity painted over his skin in his own royal blood.
They would serve as Shayla’s first tastes of him and fuel the blood hunger her mating mark would already have unleashed within her. A growl rumbled low in his chest at the thought.
Liam laid a hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid any of the marks, and squeezed. “I believe it is time, my brother. You don’t want to be late to your own mating.”
Kael nodded, emotion tightening his throat. He turned and faced Liam, whose eyes were alive with happiness and pride. “Thank you, old friend.”
“You deserve this, Kael. It has been far too long since I’ve last felt joy flowing through your blood. I am honored to stand up for you this night.”
Unable to respond, Kael clasped his grip around Liam’s forearm, who returned the ancient warrior handshake. “You are a good man, Liam.”
“Come. Let me help you with the cloak.” He released Kael’s arm and gestured to the bed.
Kael turned away and awaited the heavy fabric to fall upon his shoulders. Warmth surrounded him. He slipped his arms into the long, loose sleeves. The fine velvet was soft and thick, of the same deep crimson as his pants. Using the mirror again, Kael fastened the three ornate gold clips that held the cloak together over his chest.
Liam crossed the room to Kael’s dressing table, and eased open the lid on an antique carved wooden box sitting there. Liam lifted the crown, encrusted with the same jewels Kael wore in his hair, and returned to stand before him.
“Your crown, Your Highness.” Liam bowed his head and held the golden circle up in both hands.
Like the blood adorning his body, Kael had not expected to wear one of these again. As the sovereign, he had several crowns for different occasions. This mating crown had been made new, completed just a few hours before by the Warrior Ronan, who was also a skilled goldsmith. Kael settled the metal atop his head and adjusted it. “The hood, please,” Kael managed in a raspy voice.
“Yes.” Liam lifted the wide hood over Kael’s head, careful not to snag the pointed ornaments on his headdress or the jewels in his braid.
Now he was ready.
Together, the men made their way through the manor house to an older part of the underground compound. Once again, the halls were empty and candlelit. It seemed to take forever to arrive at their destination, but finally Liam was opening the arched doors to the Hall of the Chieftains, where the mating ritual took place for all who lived herein.
All eyes turned to Kael as he entered the room. Six clan warriors formed a circle around the center of the room, each standing at a marked symbol tiled into the floor—symbols that represented elements of the heraldic badge of Clan MacQuillan. The vampires present were his senior clan warriors, his oldest compatriots, the closest thing he had to a blood family. Indeed, he was tied to each of them by a blood connection.
Kael watched as Liam crossed to the far side of the room and disappeared through a similarly arched door.
Then Kael took his place at the center of the circle, dropped to one knee, and waited.
“I do believe it is time for you to be mated,” Ciara announced.
Shayla nodded and accepted the woman’s hand. With assistance, she rose from the seat in front of the ornate vanity where she had been readied for the ceremony. Nervous energy gripped her, but so too did something else. An urge she’d never before felt, and somehow knew would only be eased by Kael’s presence, flowed through her, held her muscles taut, resonated in an empty ache in her gut. She clenched and released her left hand.