Bound by Honor (War of the Five Fangs Book 0) Page 3

  “In your own way, in your own time, you’ve proven yourself a worthy wolf; a wolf deserving of a better father than I have been. I apologize, my son. For everything,” he said.

  “I forgive you,” Rohn said, and he meant it.

  “Truly?”

  “Truly. Now more than ever you and I need each other, and how could we be close if I harbored resentment toward you? It would eat away at us like poison,” Rohn said.

  “And no doubt Shira and the rest of the council would cheer for that,” Aris said, his tone acrid. “They are conspirators all, they have been since I was named pack leader.”

  “Father, I know you dislike being counseled, but if I may be so bold…” Rohn began, waiting for his father’s approval before continued.

  “You may. Perhaps it’s past time I started heeding your word,” Aris said.

  “You distrust Shira and the council, as do I, but I implore you to subdue your contempt. We need each of them on our side if we are to make a success of this,” Rohn said.

  “Bold, indeed,” Aris chuckled. “But you are correct, as much as it grieves me to admit.”

  “We must show them good will and no empty promises if they are ever to trust us again. Bringing Oberon here, negotiation with the enemy as you did, may not ever be rectified in their eyes, but we owe it to the pack and to ourselves to try,” Rohn said.

  “Have you mated yet?” Aris asked, catching Rohn off guard. Blood tingled his face.

  “Not as of yet, no,” he admitted.

  “You must. Tonight. Your heat has already begun, I can smell it. You must act while conditions favor conception,” Aris said. Rohn knew the truth of it but despite the desire he felt for Oberon, the idea of mating with a stranger, an enemy of his pack, did not sit well in the pit of his stomach.

  “The pack needs an Alpha heir, we need an Alpha heir, if we are to keep control,” Aris continued. “And believe me, my son, we must keep control. If Shira has her way, we will never see the end of this damnable war,” Aris said. “I am a born fighter, but even I am growing old and losing my taste for blood.”

  “I will do my duty,” Rohn said, his all-too-familiar tremble returning to rack his body.

  “Do I frighten you?” Oberon asked after he’d shifted into his human form. It wasn’t the first time Rohn had seen him this way—they’d shared sleeping quarters for the last three moons—but it still impressed him. Oberon was beautiful as a wolf, but he was breathtaking as a man, with sun-kissed skin and a body that rippled with corded muscle. Each inch of his physique told part of his story as the great warrior that he was. It struck Rohn how odd it was that he was expected to mate with this wolf, the very same one he’d read dozens of books about. It didn’t seem fair for one wolf to be both heralded and beautiful when Rohn himself was neither.

  “No, quite the opposite,” Rohn answered, his voice trembling. Oberon smiled and laid down on the hard earth beside him, so close that Rohn felt the heat radiating from his bare skin. Rohn had told him that they were expected to consecrate their union this night, and Oberon had risen to the occasion without more provocation than that, almost as if he’d been looking forward to mating with Rohn. But Rohn knew that wasn’t possible.

  “Shift. I would look on your face before we mate,” Oberon said, stroking the soft fur on Rohn’s head and sending a wave of ecstasy coursing across his entirety. Whether it was due to his heat or due to his desire, Rohn couldn’t discern, but it was clear that Oberon had a powerful effect on him.

  “I fear you won’t like what you see,” Rohn said honestly. He was no champion like Oberon; the only muscle of note on his body was in his head.

  “Is that why you’ve remained a wolf all these nights?” Oberon asked, still petting him.

  “It is,” Rohn answered.

  “There is only one way to discover if you’re correct,” Oberon said. “Though I suspect you’re much harder on yourself than you need be.”

  “Flattery has no place here. I am already yours, whether I will it or not,” Rohn said, his mind ablaze with conflicting thoughts and feelings. Oberon’s scent in his snout was so strong, so incredibly primal in its flavor, that it made Rohn slick in his haunches. He didn’t dislike the act of mating with Oberon; he disliked what might come afterward. His bonding to Oberon was intended to be practical but in the short time he’d known the wolf, Rohn had developed feelings for him, which he didn’t doubt had happened to many wolves before him. But Oberon was a warrior, he’d never be content to raise a family and make a home, much less with a wolf like Rohn.

  “Then what is the source of your fear?” Oberon asked. “I won’t harm you.”

  “It’s not physical harm I shy from,” Rohn said, his voice even more meek than normal.

  “Rohn, don’t you see? You, this pack, and our future son are all I have left in this world,” Oberon said. “What good would come to me if I harmed you, in any fashion?” Rohn knew that Oberon had the right of it, but it did not bring him comfort.

  “Oftentimes harm is not intentional,” he said.

  “I will wed you, if you like and if it will assuage your concerns,” Oberon said and Rohn’s heart clawed up into his throat. “I will stand before your pack and your father and make you my husband.”

  “Why?” Rohn asked, all of the courage, the fire he’d found within himself since standing up to Shira, having been extinguished. Oberon chuckled.

  “Do you believe in prophecy?” he asked.

  “I am not sure what I believe,” Rohn answered. “Do you?”

  “Yes, but only because I have lived to see it fulfilled once more,” Oberon said.

  “Once more?”

  “Yes. Many years ago, Pollux Lunalis, the great seer of the Gold Eye pack, prophesied the war in which we now find ourselves. No wolf believed him save for me,” Oberon said and Rohn shivered. “The reason I am with you now is because of another of his prophecies.”

  “And what did the seer tell you this time?”

  “That my destined future mate, a wolf by the name of Rohn, would try to tame me—something I should allow,” he said. “To honor him, I’ve listened. Tell me, Rohn, when you think of the great Oberon Mooneye, do you not think of an honorable wolf?” he asked.

  “Of course I do, your recent betrayal of your pack notwithstanding,” Rohn said and Oberon laughed.

  “Sometimes honor requires more than blind loyalty,” he said. “Sometimes we are bound by it. But it is not only honor that has bound me to you.” The blood in Rohn’s veins turned to ice for a moment and then to fire. “Now, would you honor me with your human form?” Rohn nodded, closed his eyes, and willed his body to change its shape. Moments later, after a series of cracks and pops, he laid nude beside Oberon with his eyes still closed, unable to face the look of disappointment Oberon no doubt wore.

  “You are more beautiful than the Falls themselves,” Oberon said, his voice a mere breath, a kiss of wind against Rohn’s skin that traveled like lightning down his body and engorged his manhood, despite Rohn’s disbelief of Oberon’s words. In Rohn’s own eyes, he was scrawny and pale from too many years in the cave behind some book or the other.

  “Why would you have kept this from me for this long?” he asked, a finger trailing down Rohn’s side and giving him gooseflesh until it slipped through his thighs to find Rohn’s warm, wet entrance between. A whimper escaped him along with his will to resist, and he must have emitted a submissive scent because Oberon growled and climbed on to all fours.

  And then Oberon was on top of him, his thick, powerful thighs forcing Rohn’s apart, his large erection prying at Rohn’s opening. The pupils in his amber eyes narrowed to nothing but slits and he heaved with the effort of breathing, of keeping his wolfly urges in control. They hung there for what seemed to Rohn an eternity, their chests rising rapidly and falling even faster. Oberon’s scent filled Rohn’s nose, driving the intensity of his feelings ever higher. Rohn had never mated but in the fire of his passion he felt no fear.

  “Enter me,” Rohn said, more of a command than a statement. He had no need nor desire for any other act. He wanted, no, needed to feel Oberon inside of him, needed their wolves to connect at the deep level that only such a physical bond could create. Something wild came over Oberon, and he seized Rohn’s wrists to hold them against the cave floor as he thrust himself into Rohn, opening his heart at the same time as his body. Rohn cried out, but it was a cry of pure delight, born from the overwhelming feeling of wholeness that now enveloped him.

  They fit together as if they’d been designed to, molded in the sacred light above the Falls to be the perfect match for one another. Oberon never looked away from Rohn’s face, and his intense gaze only increased Rohn’s desire. He used his hips to squeeze and massage Oberon as he buried himself to the hilt inside of Rohn, which gave them both unimaginable pleasure.

  Their grunting, whimpering, and groaning echoed throughout the sleeping chambers, no doubt to the chagrin of Rohn’s pack mates who so detested Oberon, but as Oberon thrust in and out of him, Rohn found it difficult to care. The only thing of importance now was the bond he shared with Oberon and the child he hoped they’d create together, the child who would save them both and their pack. Yes, their pack, because Oberon was part of them now, part of Rohn.

  As if he’d read Rohn’s mind, Oberon fell forward onto him, his hands forcing their way underneath Rohn’s back to lift him from the floor and allow Oberon to drive as deep as possible into Rohn before his release overtook him. With a powerful roar, he erupted inside of Rohn before biting down on the tender skin of Rohn’s neck to mark him as his own, the pleasure of which gave Rohn his own release.

  They laid together after, their bodies still joined as they attempted to keep their lungs full of air, and Rohn knew that he
would soon be with child.

  PART 2: DUSK

  ONE YEAR LATER

  Oberon

  For the first time in more than a decade, Oberon Mooneye knew peace.

  As predicted, the Black Claws had folded in on themselves only a fortnight after Oberon joined the Grey Fangs in treaty. Though he took no pleasure in it, at Aurora Falls Oberon had accepted the surrender of his brother Valen Mooneye, who had taken rule over the Black Claws in Oberon’s absence.

  His brother and his pack mates had not even put up a fight, though Valen had promised there would be another day and another battle, which Oberon much misliked. Still, Moonvalley Lake had been peaceful ever since; a feeling that was unfamiliar to every wolf.

  In the months after, Oberon had grown to know contentment and even joy as his young son was born and grew faster even than the weeds around the southern Grey Fang den. Summer had arrived and with it came new life, new growth, and new opportunity.

  Oberon watched Zion run about in the grass, his wild, dark tangles of hair bouncing and his tiny wolf’s tail wagging, the only part of himself he’d yet learned to shift. In truth, Oberon had brought Zion into the fields by the Sea of Stars to train him in secret, away from his overprotective husband who insisted that books were better suited than battle for their son. But now that they were here, Oberon knew it had been a mistake.

  Zion was still a child, barely more than a pup, so what could Oberon have hoped to trained him in? Instead, he delighted in watching the boy run, his laughter and giggles overpowering the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks far down below.

  Even at one year old, the little Alpha was fearless. More than once Oberon had had to dash forward to take the back of Zion’s tunic in his teeth in order to keep the child from running off the edge of the cliff.

  Maybe Rohn had the right of it, he thought with a laugh to himself. This child is twice as wild as I was at his age. Still, Oberon wouldn’t have traded fatherhood for anything else in the world. In fact, it bewildered him that he’d been given such a gift in the first place. All his life he’d anticipated dying on the battlefield, leaving nothing behind but the songs that told his tale.

  “Oberon!” a voice called on the wind from afar. Oberon turned to find Rohn standing on all fours at the entrance to the den. Something about his stance struck fear into Oberon’s heart. Rohn bounded toward him and skidded to a stop at his side.

  “What is it, my love?” Oberon asked.

  “I didn’t know where you’d gone, I feared the worst had happened,” Rohn said. Oberon nuzzled Rohn with his snout.

  “That fear still hasn’t vacated you after all of this time?” He asked.

  “It never will,” Rohn said. “Not now that we have Zion. He needs you. I need you.”

  “I haven’t gone anywhere, love,” Oberon said. “And I won’t. The war is over. This is my home now.”

  “War is never over, not truly,” Rohn said. Oberon pulled back and searched Rohn’s face. A feeling of dread swept over him despite Zion’s high-pitched laughs.

  “Has there been news?”

  “Yes,” Rohn answered, looking out at the sea and Zion, who was now rolling in the grass. “A Silent Shifter came in the night, sent by the Gold Eyes,” he continued and Oberon’s blood turned frigid. It could only have been Noxis. He understood well what this foreshadowed.

  “War is never over, indeed,” Oberon said, feeling separated from his own body. “I need to speak with your father,” he said when he’d come back to himself. He bounded across the field and stopped at Zion’s side.

  “Hi father,” the child giggled, sitting up in the grass, his hands and face turned green.

  “Come, Zion,” Oberon said.

  “Scary,” Zion groaned, grimacing as he sensed Oberon’s unease.

  “No need to fear, father will keep you safe,” Oberon said and though the child seemed reluctant, he obeyed. Oberon kneeled and let Zion climb onto his back, where he took tufts of Oberon’s fur in his tiny fists to hold on. Oberon dashed back to the den with Rohn astride, and when they were inside, Zion dismounted and Rohn took him to their quarters. This was no place, no time for a child.

  Oberon trotted into the council’s chambers, where he knew they would already be gathered and waiting for him. Despite the birth of Zion, the Grey Fang elders still had not accepted Oberon as one of their own; Shira in particular still feared he would cross them, though he’d given them no indication of any such intention.

  The council sat in a circle on the earth with Aris at the head, as befit his rank. Oberon entered with his head low, a gesture of deference.

  “Speak of the traitor,” Shira said, her voice cracking across Oberon like a lash.

  “With respect, I am no traitor,” Oberon said, keeping his gaze on the floor in front of him so as not to be seen as haughty.

  “Then explain to me how a Black Claw rebellion has formed with your own name on its members lips,” Shira said. Oberon’s head shot up.

  “My name?”

  “I do not repeat myself, Black Claw. You heard it true.”

  “Aris, by the heir I’ve borne you and the peace I’ve brought you, you must know this is a Black Claw ploy,” Oberon appealed to his pack leader. Aris considered him for a moment and Oberon’s heart thundered inside his ribcage.

  “I suspected as much, yes,” he said and Oberon let out the air he’d been holding. “Though to what end I cannot—”

  “A ploy, indeed,” Shira interrupted. “You Black Claws are all the same. Beguiling, flattering, all while readying your attack from the shadows.”

  “Oberon is not at fault here, Shira,” Aris said. “How and when could he have contacted any of his ex-pack mates? I’ve seen the wolf with my own two eyes, he dedicates his every waking moment to his son.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Oberon said, the first time he’d ever used the label for Aris.

  “Ex-pack mates? Forgive me, Aris, but I was unaware that Mooneye had been initiated into the Grey Fangs,” Shira said.

  “There’s a time and place for everything. The time for Oberon’s initiation is now. If what the Silent Shifter said is true, war is again at our feet,” Aris said. “If you’d prefer to fight without Oberon at your side, that is your prerogative, but I prefer to win when it comes to war.”

  “What news did the Silent Shifter bring?” Oberon asked.

  “Last night the Black Claws held some sort of gathering at Aurora Falls. According to the Silent Shifter, it was a gathering of banners and arms, a call to rally together against us,” Aris said.

  “Why? What grievance could they possibly have with us? We brought peace to the entire region,” Oberon said.

  “One would think, yes. But apparently some of your ex-pack mates don’t think it was our responsibility to do so.”

  “And what would they prefer? Continued warfare? Continued death and bloodshed? And for what?” Oberon asked, his pulse catching fire.

  “So that they could rule,” Aris answered and realization washed over Oberon. Of course, he thought. Valen and the Black Claws will never settle until they rule Aurora Falls.

  “It’s what they believe,” Oberon said. “That they were created to rule the realm.”

  “Why?” Shira asked. “What right do they have over any of the rest of us? I presumed we were free wolves in covenant around the Falls.”

  “From our perspective, that’s correct. From theirs, however, their faith says otherwise. From the youngest age, Black Claws are taught that the First Shifter was also the First Black Claw, and thus they are the true, living incarnations of shifter kind,” Oberon explained, shaking his head even as the words left him. “They believe that Aurora Falls belongs to them, that it’s their birthplace.”

  “As do the rest of us,” Aris said. “Yet unlike the bloodthirsty Black Claws, none of the other packs have any desire to rule over Aurora Falls. It belongs to all of us.” A year ago, Oberon might have bristled at the characterization of his pack mates as blood thirsty, but now, in the midst of the peace he’d brokered, he agreed with Aris.