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The Wolf’s Prince
A novel by
Sienna Sway

Published by
Blue Crescent Books
Copyright © Sienna Sway 2023
Cover design by: Cristal Designs

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form
or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission from
the publisher and author.
978-1-990307-28-7
 CON T E N T S

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue

Afterword
About the Author
Also by Sienna Sway
 CHAP T E R 1

NIKOLAI

P rince Nikolai stepped into the ballroom, grinning.

Human-like beings towered over the rest of the crowd, dressed in garb that the
average gentlemen would find scandalous. Others were draped in fabrics and jewels in
colors the likes of which he had never seen before, accented by pointed ears and
vibrantly colored hair. There were humans too. They were just as easy to pick out. Like
Nikolai, they were looking around in wonder at the variety of beings, all in one room for
the first time.
Nikolai knew of the magical beings of their lands, but Casetro was a smaller country
and they were limited to those that lived in the mountains, and in the ocean. Here in
Tasnia, they were overrun by elves, oves, and even shapeshifters...
“Wow,” Andrey breathed at his side.
Glancing up at his older brother, Nikolai took in the look of awe and trepidation on his
charming face.
If not for the somber expression he carried permanently, Andrey would have been
very pretty with his gentle features and sandy-colored hair. But because of his anxious
disposition, Nikolai took the honor of cutest face in the family.
“Relax brother,” he sighed. “Mingle with only the people you know. Then they’ll
introduce you to others if the moment is right. Look, there is King Jareth. He will be
pleased to see you.”
Andrey paled.
“Where are you going to be?”
“Dancing, of course!”
Andrey sighed and nodded, dismissing him, so Nikolai strode confidently into the
room.
He loved a good party, and this one promised to be more fun than most.
Taking a glass of wine from a passing server, he drifted around the edges of the
dance floor, watching the couples swirl to the orchestral music.
Quite notably, only humans were dancing. The other races probably didn’t know their
dances. Well, all anyone needed was a good lead and Nikolai was an excellent one.
He tipped the rest of his drink back and turned, scanning the crowd.
Almost immediately, he caught eyes with a rather remarkable-looking elf. She was
pale as moonlight and all of her hair was completely white. Her lashes were like
snowflakes on her cheek, surrounding her pale gray eyes.
At her smile, Nikolai swept toward her, offering a hand and his trademark charming
smile.
“Care to dance?” he asked.
“I'm afraid I don't know how.”
“That's all right,” he insisted. “I'll show you.”
That seemed to be enough to convince her and she allowed him to lead her into the
middle of the floor.
“It's quite simple for the ladies, all you have to do is allow me to move you around,”
he said with a wink.
She laughed.
“Very well, I won't fight you.”
At her word, Nikolai began to move, moving slowly at first until she began to fall into
the movements. Soon enough, we were swinging around the dance floor laughing
because Nikolai kept going faster and faster to see how much she could handle.
“Are you trying to test me?” she demanded, grinning wide.
“Not at all,” he argued.
“I may not know the human dances,” she said, “but I believe we're supposed to at
least keep beat with the music.”
Chuckling, he slowed down their pace.
“I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself.”
“Come, let us get a drink. I'll introduce you to some of my friends.”
Mirra turned out to be her name and true to her word, she walked me around the
party, introducing me to the other elves.
Aside from Mirra, they all appeared to be like the worst parts of the human
aristocracy. Extremely formal, uptight, cunning, boring. Andrey would probably love them.
After speaking to a dull green-haired elf by the name of Seneca for far too long,
Nikolai tugged Mirra away the moment he was distracted by someone else.
“Let’s get that drink,” he said as an excuse.
“Are you the only interesting elf?” he asked the moment they were out of earshot.
She laughed.
“In our defense, this is our first time mingling with humans like this. I think everyone
is on edge, deciphering what is to come next.”
“Tell me, how did you all come to be invited? I must ask Prince Allard what the
reasoning for this was.”
“You know him?”
“Oh yes, he's a friend. Us royals of the area have a way of sticking together.” Nikolai
snorted. “It can be quite annoying, but Allard isn't bad. A bit closed-minded, perhaps, but
kind, really.”
“Oh, you know Prince Allard too?”
At the sound of a deep, masculine voice, he turned and looked up—and then up some
more—at the extremely tall and handsome oaf who stood behind him. He had vibrant red
hair and was muscular with beautiful, tanned skin, almost all of it on display under thin
strips of what Nikolai gathered to be a garment.
“Well, hello,” he managed.
Nikolai wasn't exactly tall, to begin with. Most of the time he was lucky to stand
higher than the average woman, but he more than made up for that with his face and
body. In this case, it would have made no difference. He was sure that everyone looked
quite the same from the oaf’s vantage.
Suddenly, an identical oaf slid up next to the first.
Like the elves, the oves had long silky hair that they styled with braids. Where the
elves favored jewels, the oves seemed to favor stones and bones. That didn't take away
from their striking beauty though.
“I am Nikolai,” he said, and then, because he didn't know what else to do, offered a
hand.
“I am Tuboy, this is my twin brother Memet.”
They took turns shaking Nikolai’s hand, seeming to take effort not to squeeze too
tightly. Mirra received a nod and a smile but did not return it.
“Excuse me,” she muttered.
Nikolai watched her go, surprised. He’d once heard that elves didn’t care for their half-
brethren. The oves were half-ogre and apparently that was enough reason to
disassociate. He didn’t see the problem though. Aside from being large, they didn’t
appear much different from the elves.
And he’d thought Mirra would be a fun new friend…
Shaking the disappointment away, he turned back to the oaf twins who seemed
unbothered by her reaction to them.
“So, you're friends of Prince Allard's?”
“Oh yes,” Memet said warmly. “We got to know each other quite well when our
brother Soluc first bonded with Prince Nemir.”
Nikolai remembered finding that particularly hilarious at the time. The prince from
Suvahl had accidentally entered into an unbreakable marriage union with a male oaf.
Even now that made him grin with glee. Suvahl and Tasnia were both known for being
closed-minded countries. They frowned upon same-sex partners. Add to that the non-
human mate and it was downright ironic.
“I had never seen an oaf before, so I found that story hard to wrap my head around,”
Nikolai admitted, grinning.
They both chuckled, exchanging an amused look.
“Yes, well Nemir is quite tiny,” Memet said. “But they make it work.”
“I’m sure they do,” Nikolai mused, following their gazes.
There at the back of the room, he spotted Prince Nemir, looking lovely with his dark
curls hanging around his face, his hand linked with another large, redheaded oaf who
seemed to be even bigger than his brothers.
Nikolai raised an incredulous brow.
“Prince Nemir never showed interest in men before. It hardly seems fair that he
should up with such a big one…”
Memet snorted.
“Do you feel left out?” he teased. “That could easily be remedied.”
Nikolai laughed, looking up at him with interest, then at Tuboy.
“Is this a two-for-one offer?” he asked boldly, feeling his cheeks heat at the suddenly
flirtatious turn in the conversation.
They both grinned. Interest glinting in their eyes.
Perhaps the oves would be the most fun part of the party.
A prickling heat suddenly burned Nikolai’s neck, drawing his attention away. He
glanced over his shoulder and froze.
A breathtakingly beautiful man was glaring at him from only a couple of feet away, as
though he had been personally offended by Nikolai. No human eyes caught the light like
that, like a wild, dangerous animal and Nikolai couldn’t move under his scrutiny. Even
without the glint in his eyes, they were quite striking. Narrow, slanted, and intense.
“What are you?” Nikolai blurted by way of introduction.
The man blinked, his eyes suddenly dark as midnight on the new moon. He was a
magnificent specimen, tall, broad, muscular, decked in earth-toned leather with fur
accents all over.
All of these beings were stunning in their own unique ways. But this one, his intensity,
and focus made it impossible to look away.
“Have you never seen a shifter before?” he finally asked, still seeming annoyed by
Nikolai.
“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?” Nikolai joked.
The shifter’s lips didn’t even twitch.
“Do you throw yourself at everyone with a hard cock to offer you?” he asked.
Nikolai’s lips parted in surprise, his brows shooting up. He was so surprised that he
had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud.
Finally, a snort burst free.
He glanced back at the oves, just remembering them. Luckily, at some point, they had
been pulled into a conversation with someone else.
Turning back to the shifter, he shrugged sheepishly.
“We were just playing,” he said. “That doesn’t mean we would end up in bed
together.”
This didn’t seem to mollify his new companion.
Nikolai spent a moment admiring him, while he wondered about his mood. His hair
was long, silky straight, and jet black, his features masculine and sharp, with those
piercing eyes and soft-looking pink lips.
“I would have tried my luck with you had I seen you first,” Nikolai divulged.
He wasn’t sure if jealousy was the reason for the shifter’s hostility but he hoped it
was.
To his delight, the anger faded from the shifter’s face. Suddenly, he watched Nikolai
as though unsure of what to make of him.
“I am Nikolai,” he said, offering his hand.
The shifter took it.
“Soren,” he said in a low voice.
Nikolai found himself holding Soren’s hand for too long, feeling the warmth of his grip
as fireworks erupted in his chest.
“Can you turn into anything you like?” he asked.
That finally drew a smile.
Soren shook his head.
“No.”
A man of few words it seemed. That suited Nikolai just fine. The things he wanted to
do with the shifter had little to do with talking anyway.
He bit his lip.
“Then what do you transform into? Will you show me?”
Soren tilted his head, considering.
“Perhaps… if you can guess.”
Nikolai's lips tilted into a smile. He loved men who played games. It made everything
more fun.
“Let me see,” he said coyly, using the excuse to step closer. “Hm, you're dressed well,
but in so many layers. This fur collar...”
Nikolai allowed himself to touch Soren's broad shoulders, feeling the muscles under
thick fur as he walked around Soren under the guise of examining his outfit.
“What about it?” Soren asked, turning his face to meet Nikolai's eyes as he came back
around to the front of him.
There was amusement in his hooded eyes. And interest.
“It suggests that you are a hunter,” Nikolai said, lowering his voice. “Perhaps you turn
into a predator of the wilderness in the dark of the night?”
“Like a monster?” Soren asked, his voice suddenly husky, eyes glinting on Nikolai’s.
“No,” he whispered. “But perhaps... like a wolf?”
Suddenly, someone bumped into his back, sending him lurching forward.
Soren caught him, his hands firm and strong, holding Nikolai longer than necessary as
he swiveled, in turn catching the man who'd lost his step.
“Careful there, friend,” he said, catching the man’s shoulders as he stumbled.
Nikolai was surprised to realize that it was Prince Allard, looking dashing as usual, in a
fancy white suit accented with gold and blue to bring out his pale blond hair and grey
eyes. His worried eyes widened in surprise when their gazes met.
“Prince Nikolai! You’re here too?”
“Of course! Everyone is!” Nikolai laughed.
Nikolai had been looking forward to talking to him since receiving the invite, but now
that Allard was here, he would have to get the short version of Nikolai’s commendations.
His mind was fixated on the shifter standing behind him with a firm grip still
surreptitiously on Nikolai’s hip, burning through his suit.
“What a revolutionary moment! I commend you and your family for choosing to bring
the creatures of the wood to light. Such a daring idea,” he grinned, patting him on the
shoulder.
Allard shrugged helplessly, seeming distracted as well.
“Uh... yes.”
He looked around, as though still unable to wrap his head around his own party.
Perhaps it was shocking to see so many creatures mingling in one’s own ballroom. Nikolai
wouldn’t know, but he was thrilled by it.
“Have you met Soren?” Nikolai asked, catching his sharp dark gaze as he glanced over
his shoulder. “He's an actual shapeshifter!”
Before Allard could reply, his mother approached, smiling at Nikolai and placing a
delicate hand on her son’s elbow.
“There you are, dear. I was looking for you.”
“I was about to do the same,” Allard informed her. “May we speak in private?”
“Of course.”
He waved to Prince Nikolai as she led him quietly from the hall into one of the
adjoining chambers.
“Hm. Prince Allard is normally quite decorous. I’m surprised he didn’t even
acknowledge you,” Nikolai said, feeling a little awkward on behalf of his new
acquaintance. Even his mother had been tense, and the queen was normally quite fond of
Nikolai.
“He was distracted,” Soren said, sounding unbothered. “As was I.”
Nikolai shivered as the hand on his hip slipped up to his waist.
“Ah yes, I believe you were about to show me your wolf form?”
Soren grinned an altogether feral expression on that handsome face with incisors too
long to be human.
“I don’t believe I said you were correct.”
He tilted his head, another predatory expression, like he was watching Nikolai’s every
flickering move. It took his breath away. His heart started to pound.
“I have an idea,” Soren said in a low tone. “How about you show me your form first?
Then I’ll show you mine.”
Nikolai had to bite his lip to hold in a moan.
“Oh I can do that,” he promised, blood rushing to fill his cock. “Quickly.”
Soren’s gaze darkened.
“Where?” he breathed.
Nikolai had a room here at the castle for the duration of his stay, but it was a shared
suite with his brother so that wouldn’t do. He was sure Soren had one too. They weren’t
going there either though, because Nikolai already had an erection working fast to tent
the front of his trousers and he wasn’t about to sift through an entire ballroom of people
with that on display.
Instead, he glanced around, finding one of the wide balcony doors open to allow the
spring air to flow within.
 “Come,” he said under his breath.
Avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze, he darted through the crowd, hoping he was going
unnoticed at the same time that he prayed to all the gods above that Soren was
following.
He emerged into the cool night air and saw that the darkness of the night was
interrupted only by the candles that led to the garden.
The moment he swiveled around to see if Soren was coming, or if he'd run out here
alone like a fool, the shifter was there, catching Nikolai in his arms.
Nikolai took a startled breath, realizing how close he had been followed.
“You should never just run like that from a predator,” Soren hissed. “Don't you know a
predator can't help but chase?”
Nikolai let out the breath he'd been holding, feeling the way his heart raced.
With the light from the ballroom behind him, Soren was a menacing halo and Nikolai
wanted badly to be devoured.
“That's what I'd been hoping for,” he whispered.
At that, Soren yanked him against his hard chest, making Nikolai grunt as Soren’s lips
closed over his.
They were barely through the doorway, hardly hidden at all, but as he felt the hungry
taste of his mouth, Nikolai found what little bit of decency he possessed vanished.
Nikolai’s arms came around his back, his hands just as hungry as his lips, feeling
Soren’s masculine frame. Such broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and hips cut out of
marble that he couldn’t help but grab onto.
Soren’s mouth was like fire, white-hot kisses seared Nikolai’s lips like he’d been
wanting Nikolai forever and was desperate for him.
His tongue sent electric tendrils of pleasure shooting through Nikolai, practically
making his hips buck.
Altogether too close for comfort, someone giggled, and Nikolai broke away with a
gasp, swinging around to see a couple watching from behind the hanging drapes.
Soren's eyes were glowing silver like moonlight as he leaned toward Nikolai again. He
truly looked like a wolf at that moment, about to devour Nikolai, very much like they had
been joking—like Nikolai had thought they had been joking.
He swallowed, leaning away.
“Let's go for a walk,” Nikolai said, clearing his throat. Might as well pretend they were
going to be decent. Even if it was obvious they wouldn't be.
He took Soren's hand firmly in his own, leading him down the narrow steps, following
the candles to the gardens.
He was already searching out hedges and trees, his gaze scanning what he could see
in the dark shamelessly.
“This way,” Soren whispered, and Nikolai realized that he could see better than him.
Those eyes, he realized, must be for more than just show.
Gripping Nikolai’s hand in his, he led him away from the candle-lit path until they were
surrounded by darkness. Nikolai’s heart was racing with anticipation.
“I’d been hoping to meet someone exciting tonight,” Nikolai said as Soren pulled him
into his strong embrace, letting out a low moan.
“You are so naughty,” he growled.
Nikolai chuckled breathlessly.
“Let me show you how naughty I can be,” he suggested.
In the dark, he reached down, feeling the long length of Soren’s hard cock, his breath
hitching at the size.
Soren groaned and with a sudden movement Nikolai couldn’t predict, he was flat on
his back on soft earth with his hands pressed over his head.
For a moment Nikolai wriggled but Soren only held him down tighter, pressing his hips
against Nikolai’s, grinding their erections together.
Nikolai stilled, letting Soren thrust against him while his head fell back.
“Oh… I was going to tell you not to mess up my clothes, but I think it’s too late for
that,” Nikolai gasped.
“Forget your clothes. They’re not important.”
In demonstration, he gripped the front of Nikolai’s suit, tearing it open.
Nikolai wasn’t sure if he should be upset or aroused. His body chose the latter.
Soren's unforgiving grip moved to Nikolai's exposed skin. The chilly night air had made
his nipples pebble and Soren wasted no time rubbing the hard nubs with his thumbs, a
deep growl reverberating through his chest.
Trembling, Nikolai reached up, blindly feeling Soren through all his clothes.
“Not fair,” he mumbled, but Soren did not seem in a hurry to match Nikolai's level of
undress.
Instead, he allowed his hands to drift down even further, to the edges of Nikolai’s
trousers which he then slid deft fingers within.
Nikolai gasped at the brush of fingertips on his damp tip.
Another finger pressed between his parted lips and he sucked it at once, relishing in
the deep moan it elicited.
“You’re gorgeous,” Soren breathed.
Nikolai paused, eyes widening as he realized that Soren could see him.
“Now that's really not fair,” he said around Soren's finger. “We should go inside. I
want to see you too.”
His first time bedding someone who wasn't human and he couldn't even see the
beast. Calling him that, even in his head, made a shiver travel Nikolai's body. He truly
was about to have sex with someone who was part animal and that thrilled him to the
core.
“No. This is better. Here under the moonlight, as is natural.”
Nikolai hadn’t even noticed the moon. It was shrouded in clouds and he had been
distracted. Now that he searched for the pale glow of dim light in the sky, he could see it,
but it wasn't an obvious presence.
Perhaps to Soren's instincts, it was impossible to ignore.
Soren pulled back and there was the sound of fabric rustling.
Nikolai reached out eagerly, his hands meeting soft skin, hard muscles, and course
chest hair.
 He let out an appreciative moan, letting his hands skate over the defined chest and
stomach, lowering until he reached what he had been seeking.
Soren's length was out, exposed to the air and straining toward Nikolai's touch and it
was big.
He bit his lips, letting his fingers fun down the full length of it, moaning at the thought
of taking it all within him. He closed his hands around Soren's length.
“So you approve?” Soren asked gruffly, remaining still while Nikolai examined him.
“Oh yes,” he breathed. “I made a good choice tonight. I want you inside me.”
Soren let out a low inhuman growl at Nikolai's words and suddenly, he was off him,
yanking Nikolai's trousers down.
Nikolai struggled to help kick them free, managing to get his boots off and probably
scuffing them beyond repair without care before he was completely nude, and Soren
finally climbed atop him.
Their naked flesh met, an electric touch of skin that seemed to tingle the nerve
endings in Nikolai's entire body.
He shuddered, spreading his legs, pressing up to grind against the large cock he'd so
recently held in his hands.
Soren moaned and his lips pressed down against Nikolai's again, ravishing him with
hot passion the likes of which Nikolai wasn't sure he had ever felt.
Nikolai was clutching the shifter’s back, nails digging into his flesh, ready to come from
the thrill of it and they had barely started.
“Soren,” he groaned. “Fuck me. Please. Quickly.”
Soren's entire body shuddered.
He reached between them, his fingers finding Nikolai's soft entrance. For a moment,
he felt him there, his kiss slowing while he explored.
“Would you really have let those big oaf cocks into this tight little hole?” he growled.
Nikolai let out a breathy chuckle.
“What can I say, I like a big boy.”
“I can give you that.”
“Yes,” Nikolai groaned. “Stop teasing and give it to me.”
Suddenly, Soren moved down, lowering himself and without warning, sucking his cock
almost fully into his mouth.
Nikolai arched off the cold ground instinctively. His fingers tangled into Soren's silky
hair. For a moment, he almost pulled his sleek wet heat down to further bury his cock
down the other man's throat, then at the last second, he shoved Soren off.
“I want to come with your cock inside me,” he gasped. “Not in your mouth.”
Soren moaned in response, slipping lower, putting his mouth to other uses.
Nikolai's eyes rolled.
He loved having a hot wet tongue against his hole and so few people did it, especially
on a one-night fling.
Steadying his breath, Nikolai pulled his knees up, allowing better access.
Soren wasn't shy either. He gripped Nikolai's cheeks, holding them apart, and started
to thrust his tongue within him, not stopping until Nikolai was shaking and mewling, his
cock leaking. He knew he was completely shameless. If anyone caught them, his brother
would be mortified. A prince wasn't supposed to get fucked out in the open, during a
party, and with a total stranger. But it gave Nikolai a thrill.
“Deeper,” he begged, and Soren drew up, positioning himself at once to give Nikolai
what his body craved.
“Deep, and big,” Soren whispered, pressing his tip to Nikolai's entrance. “Anything
else?”
“Yes,” Nikolai gasped. “Do it now.”
“So demanding and impatient too,” Soren mused, pressing his hips forward.
Nikolai cried out when Soren's tip breached his entrance. The pleasure of being
stretched apart was intensified by Soren's generous girth.
His thighs trembled so hard he had to clutch his legs to his chest and force air into his
lungs, trying to clear his head slightly so he wouldn't come immediately. He wanted to
ride this out, no pun intended, to the very limit.
“Does it hurt?” Soren asked, sounding concerned.
Nikolai chuckled breathlessly.
“Do you want me to repeat the part about loving a big cock inside me?” he gasped.
“Because I will. You feel incredible.”
Soren released a breath he had been holding and slid in further.
Nikolai moaned loudly.
He clutched his knees, holding on for dear life as Soren started to thrust into him, long
and deep, just like he wanted, pressing down at the end of each thrust and grinding in a
little bit further.
He relaxed his weight onto Nikolai, folding him up even tighter and grinding deep.
“Like this?” he growled, and Nikolai could feel the reverberations through his body,
that slightly inhuman sound again. He shuddered, head falling back as he cried out in
pleasure.
Somehow, his hands found Soren's back, skating over the muscles, sleek with sweat,
then tangling in his shockingly soft hair, then grabbing his ass and squeezing it hard,
controlling the speed and angle that Soren fucked him while he completely lost himself.
When he started to come, Soren kept going, gasping at the way his muscles tightened
and flexed inside but unrelenting in his movements, and to Nikolai’s delight, his orgasm
stretched on, continuing in spurts. He would have a moment to breathe and then the
wave began again, overwhelming pleasure washing through him.
Soren didn't stop, pressing him into the ground with the strength of his thrusts,
clutching Nikolai's shoulders as he pounded into him, groaning in time with Nikolai's gasps
of pleasure.
“Stop exposing your neck to me like that,” Soren suddenly gasped. “It is too tempting
to bite.”
The idea of a shifter losing control on him, for this session of passion to become even
more animalistic, was irresistible.
Nikolai tilted his head away even more.
“Do it,” he gasped. “Bite me.”
 Soren let out a guttural growl and without any more hesitation, he lurched forward.
His teeth sank deep into Nikolai's neck, just above the collarbone, the angle of his
cock shifting. Nikolai gasped. Soren's entire body jerked with pleasure. It was an
explosion of pain and rapture unlike anything Nikolai had experienced before. Again, he
came hard, barely registering the fact that Soren was coming inside him, filling him with
his seed.
Everything faded to white hot pleasure.
When Nikolai slowly returned to his body, his toes were numb, and his ears were
ringing. Soren had collapsed on top of him, gasping hard, his thick cock still buried deep
within Nikolai's hole.
It took Nikolai a minute of lying there, feeling the air cooling his skin, and the brush of
grass and dirt on his back, to find a voice. Still, it came out quiet and distant when he
spoke.
“What is that?” he asked softly.
Soren pressed his hips down, letting Nikolai feel the extent of his cock and the
thickening base.
“My knot,” he whispered.
His lips pressed to the side of Nikolai's throat, just above the bite which now ached.
“Your knot?” he repeated, feeling the swollen member stretching him from within.
His eyes fluttered shut.
If he had any energy left, he would have tried to ride it.
As it were, he remained still, simply enjoying the pleasurable sensation without
pushing it.
“So, you really are a wolf then,” he whispered. “Or some type of canine.”
“Wolf,” Soren agreed gruffly. “And now you are an honorary one too.”
“And all it took was hot sex?” Nikolai asked, smiling softly, his fingers tracing over
Soren’s cooling back. “I’m honored… Perhaps we can make me a wolf a couple more
times before we leave. How long will your stay here be?”
“We leave tomorrow,” Soren said, and he lifted himself onto his elbows to look down
at Nikolai. “Of course, I will satisfy you over and over again. As much as you desire and
more.”
Nikolai shivered.
Despite himself, he clenched around Soren’s swollen cock, making the shifter moan.
He dipped down, pressing their lips together once more before lifting to look at Nikolai
again.
Nikolai’s eyes had finally adjusted to the night. He could see Soren’s form over him,
the beautiful curve of his muscular shoulders, a halo of blue moonlight on his black hair.
He reached up, touching the shifter’s cheek, marveling at the silver sheen on his eyes
as they fluttered shut.
“How does it feel?” Soren whispered. “To have found your lifemate?”
Lifemate?
Nikolai blinked.
In his experience, it normally took a couple of sessions of lovemaking for a man to
think they were a serious item.
He smirked.
“Am I that good?” he teased. “You want it to be forever?”
“Of course,” Soren agreed. “I wouldn’t have given you the mating bite and my knot
otherwise.”
He lowered, pressing their lips together again, softly, lovingly.
When he lifted enough for their eyes to meet, Nikolai stared in confusion.
“I thought this night would be tedious,” Soren whispered, fingers brushing Nikolai’s
smooth cheek. “Instead, I was blessed by Suku and her moonlight to meet you, my
Nikolai, my mate.”
 CHAP T E R 2

NIKOLAI

N ikolai managed to wait until Soren's swollen cock softened, before freaking out.
The moment the shifter slid free, unbinding them, he pushed Soren off of him
and sat up.
Lifemates...
Lifemates?!
Soren was insane. Perhaps all shifters were. If fucking meant marriage, then why the
hell had he been just as easy as Nikolai was himself? Nikolai found it incredibly hard to
believe he hadn't done that before. If Soren tried to claim such a thing Nikolai would fight
him on it. No one was that good with their equipment on the first try. And wouldn’t that
mean he had a harem of spouses on his mountain or forest, or wherever he lived?
“What's wrong?” Soren asked.
Nikolai shook himself.
“Nothing. I just want to get back and get cleaned up.”
He patted the earth around him, finding nothing. Soren handed him his pants.
Nikolai stood up to pull them on, catching a glimpse of his white shirt a moment later
and stooping to pull that on next. The front was entirely torn. His jacket was no better.
He would have to hold them closed and hope to not be spotted on the way to his room.
Soren seemed to be having no trouble dressing in the meantime. Why would he be? His
clothes were intact.
Nikolai’s heart was racing as he spun around shakily, looking for the castle. He was so
disoriented it took him a moment to realize the dark form of a hedge near them was
blocking the view. He could still hear the party, music, and laughter carried in the night
air, making him realize how close they still were to the open doors.
“Oh god,” he said, flooded with embarrassment. “I was so loud.”
“So?”
“So, someone must have heard me! The whole party probably did!”
 Suddenly, Soren's arms were around him, engulfing him in a tight embrace.
“So?” he asked again.
Nikolai melted, sagging against Soren's strong arms for support.
He took a shaking breath.
Soren was right. Why was he panicking? Maybe Soren thought they were forever now,
or maybe he was exaggerating for the sake of making Nikolai feel good. Men did that
sometimes. Hell, Nikolai had told a particular bed friend that he loved him once without
even meaning to. A good orgasm could do that to a fellow.
All he knew for sure was that he'd just had the best sex of his life. And he would be
here for another day, at least. And so would Soren... and the shifter had already promised
him more.
Before Nikolai knew what was happening, or could even think about arguing, he was
suddenly hoisted into the air.
He squeaked, arms wrapping instinctively around Soren's neck.
“What are you doing?” he gasped.
“Taking you to my room.”
Nikolai bit his lip, heart racing as Soren carried him back the way they had come.
“Please, no one can see me like this.”
He wiggled, about to jump free, but Soren stopped walking at once.
“Your legs were shaking like a baby deer's taking its first steps,” he informed him.
“You look like you were rolling in the grass and your clothes are in pieces. I hardly think
me carrying you in is any worse than that.”
Nikolai felt his entire face heat.
“I will take a side entrance,” Soren promised, and Nikolai sighed, nodding his
permission.
Still, he buried his face against the crook of Soren's neck while he was carried, at least
hoping to avoid eye contact with anyone they might pass.
They were already around the side wall when he peaked, having gone in the opposite
direction to the ball. A minute later, Soren pulled open a door.
It was a servant’s entrance, he guessed by the narrow hallway and rickety staircase.
Somehow, Soren seemed to know his way around.
He took the dark staircase up with Nikolai held in his arms like he was weightless.
When they emerged from the dim hallway, somewhere on the second floor, into a
marble-floored corridor, Nikolai realized that they were somewhere in the guest quarters,
near the room he shared with his brother.
“Let me walk now,” Nikolai insisted quietly, catching a guard's eye from across the hall
and feeling his cheeks heat.
Soren didn't bother to respond, because he had already reached his door.
He shifted Nikolai enough to grip the handle and push the door open, carrying him
through the threshold into his bed chambers.
Somewhere along the way, this whole night had taken a surreal turn.
Nikolai had expected to meet a lot of new people, dance half the night, get tipsy, and
fall into someone's bed for fun. But when Soren reverently laid him down on his large
bed, it did not feel fun. It felt momentous.
Their gazes were glued together and meaning dripped from Soren’s every movement.
He took Nikolai’s hand in his own and gently pressed his lips to the knuckles, never
breaking eye contact.
Nikolai shivered.
He wanted to demand answers. Suddenly panicked at Soren’s words about lifemates
again, but he couldn’t even begin to find words.
“Rest here,” Soren said gently. “I will take care of you.”
Again, Nikolai was powerless to do anything but what Soren wanted.
He remained on the bed, spread out, leaning back on his elbows as Soren went to the
wash basin.
He didn't ask Nikolai to remove his clothing, but when he returned to him, sitting on
the edge of the bed, with a washcloth and the basin, he began to carefully undress him
again.
Like this, in the brightness of his room, laying on a bed, being cared for, Nikolai
suddenly felt self-conscious and simultaneously aroused all over again.
By the time Soren came to the waist of his filthy pants and began to unbutton them,
the front was bulging.
Soren slowed there, letting his fingers brush over the mound sensually, making Nikolai
shudder before he pulled the pants open, freeing his length from within.
Nikolai bit his lips, his face hot with embarrassment and hopeful desire.
He doubted that he could handle that big cock inside him again so soon, but he
wanted more.
Soren didn't deliver though, at least, not at once. He simply undressed him.
Then, with a long look at Nikolai, he took the wet towel and began to gently clean
him, starting with the dirt on the palms of his hands and in his fingernails, then moving to
the elbows.
Then, although Nikolai's chest was clear, he moved the towel there, rubbing the fabric
over his nipples, one at a time, the whole while, carefully watching the way Nikolai bit his
lips. Finally, he moved to the true mess, gently cleaning the dried crystals of come from
the faint hairs on his belly.
Nikolai gasped at the feeling of the wet fabric sliding under his cock as Soren cleaned.
“You're such a tease,” he gasped as Soren worked.
A mischievous smile quirked Soren’s lips.
“Is it teasing if I plan to deliver?” he asked.
Nikolai's mouth went dry.
He pushed his hips toward Soren's confident hands.
“Not yet,” Soren said, avoiding the thrust. “I'm not done with my task.”
With that, he took Nikolai's knees by the hands and pushed them apart.
For a moment, he stared down at Nikolai's abused hole and his eyes went entirely
silver.
Nikolai expected the towel to be used to clean him, but Soren suddenly groaned,
shoved Nikolai's hips up, and dove down, choosing to use his tongue instead.
 Nikolai shuddered and gasped.
The shifter was so good with his instruments. He hadn't wanted any more ass play,
but the idea alone of Soren down there, using his tongue to lick his own semen away
nearly made Nikolai come apart.
He cursed.
“Yes!” he cried out and then reached down, gripping his cock and tightly jerking it
while he was devoured.
He only lasted a minute and didn't care because it was the most heavenly sensation,
coming with a hungry tongue inside him.
It took forever for shivers to stop raking his body. The whole while, Soren held his hips
and kissed his entrance, helping to drag it on as long as possible.
When he rose, he looked down at Nikolai, his silver eyes glazed.
He remained there, on his knees, watching him catch his breath as though stunned.
“You are the most satisfying meal I have ever had,” he informed Nikolai, hands tracing
his spread inner thighs.
Nikolai let out a breathy chuckle.
“Will I take care of that?” he asked, indicating the bulge in the front of Soren's already
tight pants. “I can suck it for you.”
Soren visibly shivered, squeezing his eyes shut before shaking his head firmly.
“No, you are too tired.”
Nikolai opened his mouth to argue but was distracted by the shifter pulling his clothes
off.
He'd felt the defined muscles already, but seeing Soren's body was different. His body
was sculpted, and his every movement made muscles flex. His fawn-colored skin was
perfection, with no blemishes in sight, looking just as soft to the touch as it felt. His
shape was the type that no nobility could achieve. No, it took living a certain lifestyle to
need to be so strong.
When he kicked his pants off, Nikolai's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
“You're telling me that was inside me?” he squeaked.
Soren grinned, moving to the lamps.
“All of it and more,” he said.
He certainly hadn't been lying about his size. Not that Nikolai doubted that after being
fucked so thoroughly. Still, seeing it, he was impressed with himself. He grinned. He'd
taken that like it was his profession.
The room was plunged into darkness as Soren extinguished the lights. A moment
later, Nikolai felt the bed dipping as Soren crawled in next to him.
He pulled the blankets out from under them, slid up right behind Nikolai so he could
cradle him in his arms, and then tucked the blanket in all around them.
When he wrapped his arm around Nikolai's waist, he tugged him in close and buried
his face in his hair, inhaling sharply.
“I feel bad leaving you like that,” Nikolai whispered in the dark, wiggling his backside
against Soren’s thriving erection.
He moaned and chuckled.
 “Don’t tease me,” he chastised. “I want you to rest. We’ll have plenty of time for you
to make it up to me tomorrow.”
Nikolai shivered at the thought.
The temptation of another ride before they left tomorrow was enough to keep him
securely in Soren’s arms, even though he wasn’t typically one to cuddle. To his surprise, it
felt nice being in the shifter’s embrace. He smelled so warm and inviting. For some
reason, it almost made Nikolai want to nuzzle against him.
“I’ll have to check in with my brother first thing in the morning, just to let him know
I’m alive,” he said sleepily. “After that, I’m all yours.”
Soren kissed the back of his head.
“Of course. We must make arrangements for our journey to pack grounds,” he said
sleepily. “Normally, we run, but I don’t think you’ll be able to keep up with us wolves.”
He pulled Nikolai in a little bit tighter
“I cannot wait to discuss everything with you. To get to know you in all ways, inside
and out, my Nikolai, my mate.”
Nikolai could feel Soren’s smile against his hair, but all the blood had rushed from his
face.
So much for telling himself that Soren had been exaggerating.

IT TOOK FAR TOO long for Nikolai to disentangle from Soren's arms. As much as he wanted to
get away, Soren's arms were incredibly warm and welcoming. In fact, Nikolai didn't think
he had ever been quite so comfortable in his life.
Although he'd been trying to wait for Soren to fall into a deep sleep, Nikolai had fallen
asleep first.
He woke hours later, facing the shifter, their legs tangled. His arms were around that
lovely narrow waist and Soren's were around his back.
Heart to heart, Nikolai thought. He shook that fleeting idea away.
Whether Soren was enticing or not, whether he was caring and incredible in bed,
Nikolai could not be here when he woke up.
He did not know what life mates meant to the wolf shifters. If it was as serious as it
sounded, he needed to leave before it became a problem for him or his family.
Nikolai was already quick to get in trouble for things like this. His father had been
particularly frustrated with his lack of interest in politics lately, saying that he was “Too
preoccupied with getting his cock wet,” to which Nikolai had replied, “Actually, I'm more
preoccupied with getting other people's cocks wet.”
Thank goodness Andrey had been there to step in the middle of that fight.
If Nikolai returned home attached to a shifter, for that very reason, he didn't want to
think of the fights and consequences he'd have to deal with.
Soren will defend you, an inner voice said, and he shoved that thought down.
He didn't even know Soren. He'd seen him naked far more than he'd seen him
dressed. That said it all.
 Swallowing, he braced himself to move and—couldn't bring himself to.
He could feel Soren's heart pounding, yes, against his own, dammit. He couldn't shake
that thought any longer. Their hearts were beating together, and he had never felt like
he fit against someone so perfectly before.
What would it be like to be mated to a wolf shifter? he wondered. Would Soren take
care of him every night? Bringing him to ecstasy and then washing his body and cradling
him in bed, giving him feather-light kisses that were filled with so much tenderness it
made him ache.
He squeezed his eyes shut, strangely overcome with emotions.
What had come over him? He was being even more ridiculous than Soren was.
To say someone was your mate was one thing, for them to believe you, was quite
another.
Nikolai wasn't like this. He didn't have the inclination for commitment. He wasn't
searching for the one. He liked meeting people, making connections and new friends, and
trying new bodies along the way. That was what interested him. He couldn't be with only
one person no matter how attractive they were, or how warm their embrace.
As carefully as he could, Nikolai extracted himself.
The moment that he was free though, Soren, still fast asleep, reached out and tugged
him back into his lovely warmth.
Nikolai shut his eyes, allowing it for another minute before he tried again.
It took three tries, but eventually, he was free.
Soren sighed in his sleep, rolling onto his back.
For a minute, Nikolai stood next to the bed, watching him as a strange feeling settled
over him. He didn't know how to label it, whether it was good or bad, he just felt strange.
Finally, internally shaking himself, he turned to look for his clothing. It was all spread
out over the floor. Nikolai only remembered the state of it as he picked up his shredded
shirt.
His pants and undergarments, though filthy, were at least in one piece, so he pulled
them on. He paused and then picked up Soren's suede jacket with the fur collar. It had
been tossed near the door and Nikolai couldn't resist slipping it on.
He looked back at the bed, one more lingering look at Soren's form, sleeping
peacefully.
What had gotten into him?
He couldn't have possibly developed feelings so fast. It made no sense.
Even so, he had to force himself through the door.
While trying to sneak away as quietly as he could in the early hours of the morning,
even the clicking of his boots on the marble floor sounded too loud.
He looked back twice, expecting Soren to appear behind him, ready to drag him back
to bed before carrying him off to a wolf's den in the wilderness somewhere. He
shuddered, even as he pulled Soren's coat closer around his shoulders.
Panic was filling him by the time he stepped into his room.
Inside was silent and dark. The curtains were tightly sealed and there was not a
sound to be heard. For a moment, Nikolai had the worrying thought that Andrey wasn't
there. What if he'd spent the night in someone else's bed, just as Nikolai had?
That wouldn't be like him though. Andrey tended to keep his buttons tightly done up.
“Who is there?”
Nikolai sighed in relief at the sound of his brother's whispered voice.
“Oh, thank goodness,” he groaned. “Andrey, you're here.”
“Of course,” Andrey said in the dark, suddenly sounding annoyed. “And you weren't
here. All night. I could hardly sleep worrying about you.”
Nikolai swallowed.
“You should have slept,” he said, creeping in the direction of Andrey's bed. “You know
how I am.”
“Yes,” Andrey said sharply. “I know how you are. That was why I didn't worry when
you left the party early. But you always come back, or at least come to your own bed
after you've had your fun.”
Nikolai grimaced.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out, somehow
finding Andrey's hand in the dark.
His older brother sat up and gripped his hand in return.
“As long as you’re okay, that is all that matters.”
“Yes, I’m okay but… I’m in a bit of a bind… Please don’t hate me.”
Andrey was silent for a long moment.
“What have you done?” he asked, his voice full of trepidation.
“I may have done the wrong shifter.”
“Nikolai…”
“We must leave before he wakes up. Please don’t fight me on this. I want to be gone
as quickly as possible.”
Andrey began to splutter at once about proprietary obligations, like thanking their
hosts and showing appreciation for their hospitality, but Nikolai squeezed his hand tightly.
“I’m afraid if my partner from last night sees our departure, I don’t believe I’ll be
getting far.”
“What?”
“Let’s just say he’s become attached. I don’t recommend sleeping with any unknown
magical races,” Nikolai warned. “You never know what they’re thinking.”
“You’re joking.”
Nikolai tried to sound light-hearted.
“One man’s fling is another man’s forever?” he joked.
Andrey groaned.
“Nikolai—”
“Please,” he whispered. “If he comes for me… I don’t think I can refuse him.”
Once again, Andrey fell silent.
“I will go fetch our party,” he said. “You stay here.”
Nikolai nodded, relieved.
It was well before their servants would arrive to rouse them. They were probably fast
asleep in a room somewhere off of that corridor Soren had carried him through.
 Nikolai remained sitting on the edge of the bed while Andrey stood, ready to fix things
as always.
This is the right thing to do, he told himself, but even in his own head, the words
sounded hollow.
 CHAP T E R 3

SOREN

S oren knew that humans did not react to wolves well. They were so removed from
the very nature that they were spawned from that the sight of a predator, whether
peaceful or not, sent them into a panic.
Before departing pack lands to the human kingdom, he had been the one to enforce
the no-shifting rule. Despite that, Soren was ready to shift right now and ransack the
castle. He would leave no leaf unturned until Nikolai was found.
He was ready to cause a scene.
“Your claws are out,” Botan informed him.
Soren swung around to face his friend.
They were outside now, the shifters he'd arrived with had already congregated to
leave before Soren had even started to really fret.
“I don't care,” he snarled.
Botan rolled his dark eyes, a sneer touching his lip.
“Do you have a problem?” Soren demanded, stalking up to him.
Despite Botan being an alpha, Soren was larger than him by a few inches. He was one
of the biggest alphas of the pack and although that did not guarantee becoming pack
alpha, it certainly helped. Normally the others respected that fact.
But Botan had known him closely all his years and he was not the type to be bullied.
He raised his chin, sharp gaze on Soren's.
“You should not have mated that human,” he said firmly.
“Or any human,” Eri added at his side.
Soren turned to look at her, managing not to glare or open his mouth.
Eri was an omega, here with her brother Homare as a chaperone. She had made it
clear more than once that Soren could have her. He wasn’t surprised that he could feel
fury billowing off both her and her brother.
He found it hard to feel guilty though because soon, White Water Pack would have a
new alpha and all eyes had pointed to him.
Eri had only shown Soren interest when the pack alpha, Jin had first become ill and
that was a disgusting reality for him. The fact that she was more conniving than
compassionate wasn’t something Soren could ignore.
He hadn't considered any of that last night though. He had been too overwhelmed by
the sight of Nikolai to think straight after his eyes had first landed on him.
Nikolai had immediately screamed of danger. He carried an open air of sexuality, a
love of life, and fun and laughter that drew all eyes to him. And Soren had hated that fact
as much as he was drawn to it, because the moment he'd seen Nikolai, he'd known; he
was his fated mate.
If not for that fact, Soren would feel guilty now. As it was, he did not feel regret, but
he did feel foreboding.
He had awakened to Nikolai's absence and now, he would have to face the wrath of
his pack. At the exact moment that he was meant to be there for them, he had
disappointed them.
Finally, Soren saw Fusa sauntering toward them from the direction of the castle. Still
in human form, it was clear that the beta looked wilder than the humans did. She moved
like the animals of the forest, always alert.
As she reached them, she slowed, shaking her head at Soren.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “The prince you mated with departed in the early hours of the
morning to his kingdom.”
Soren felt his mouth go dry.
Prince?
That was only mildly more alarming than the fact that Nikolai was gone.
It wasn't as though the sky was falling, yet Soren felt like it had already started to
descend and crash down around him.
He gritted his jaw as a multitude of questions ran through his head. Where is Nikolai’s
kingdom? How long would it take to get there? Would he come willingly, or would Soren
have to drag him home? Would Nikolai even be accepted with his pack? Would Soren be
shunned for mating with someone who had already abandoned him after their first night
together?
Was Nikolai worth it?
He looked around at his group slowly, most he normally considered friends. Not one of
them had sympathetic eyes. They thought he deserved this.
They couldn't all be wrong.
If Soren stood in their shoes, it looked like their leader had chosen to mate an
outsider on a whim—probably from too much drink. Those were the actions of the young,
foolish, and particularly reckless alphas. It was odd that Soren had done it. Actually, just
as their alpha was ending his reign, it was more than odd, it was foolish.
Soren wanted to be the new alpha. It was something he had prepared for his entire
life. Gritting his teeth, he nodded curtly.
“Let us return to White Water.”
Botan raised a skeptical brow.
 “How can you leave without your mate?” he asked. “Neither of you will handle it well
for long.”
“He is a human,” Soren said stiffly. “And it was not a proper mating. It was nothing
but a mistake.”
The day was bright with sunlight, but the early spring air was chilly. Inhaling a deep
breath, Soren shifted.
After two days surrounded by humans, trying to keep his instincts at bay, it felt good,
like a deep stretch after wearing clothes that were too tight.
He took off at a lope, a slow and steady pace, relaxing marginally as the others fell
into step around him.
Running together helped to clear his mind.
Nikolai had disappointed him.
Fated mate or not, he was a human. He would never be able to run with Soren or
truly understand him. We were from different worlds, and… he did not want Soren.
Nikolai had made that very clear.
When wolves mated, it was meant to be for life, yet Nikolai slept with anyone at a
whim. For all Soren knew, he had been claimed by countless bodies before and Soren was
only the most recent, not the most important.
And, notably, Nikolai hadn’t known to bite Soren back. That had surprised him at the
time. In fact, Soren had found it quite sweet. He had planned to explain it to Nikolai in
the morning and let him return Soren's bite while taking his knot again.
Now, Soren was glad they hadn’t finished the bond properly.
Silently, he prayed to the wolf goddess Suku that their bond would be temporary,
watered down by Nikolai’s human genes and Soren’s unmarked mating gland.
But the further they traveled, the more Soren felt him and the more frustrated he
became.
They were fated, lucky enough to have found one another in the physical world, and
they had mated under the light of the full moon.
If Nikolai had stayed, Soren would have fought for him with everything that he
possessed.
But Nikolai had chosen otherwise.
Now, even if Nikolai somehow found their pack, even if he begged for him, Soren
would send him away with just as much cruelness and disinterest as Nikolai had shown.
That was a promise.

THE JOURNEY BACK WAS GRINDING, but only because Soren wanted to arrive in pack lands as quickly
as possible.
He hadn't wanted to leave to begin with, it had taken Alpha Jin ordering him to go for
him to grudgingly leave while the older shifter was mostly bedridden.
And Kamon had remained.
Remembering his fear of leaving Alpha Jin ill and in the presence of the shifter who
wanted his position as pack alpha made Soren itch with worry now that he was thinking
of it again.
They had been gone for over twenty-four hours already. If Alpha Jin passed, the
position of the next pack alpha had to fall on the strongest alpha present. Without Soren
there, Kamon would have no competition.
It was with that thought in mind that they finally breached the White Water Pack
lands.
Nestled in the morning mountainscape, White Water Pack was hidden from all but the
birds and goats. They dwelled in caves that had been their homes for centuries.
Clearing the last path felt particularly hard on muscles that ached from unrest, but
Soren pushed them to continue. The closer they got to home, the more he feared he
would return to the worst.
But when they climbed to the flattened peak of their pack square, all appeared to be
normal.
The shifters that he had known all his life carried on with normal life. The evening
bonfire was lit. A goat carcass was on a spike, already roasting, filling the air with the
smell of smoke and sizzling meat.
Some were sitting by the fire sewing, others sat talking. Pups scampered around his
legs. Knowing each one by name, Soren bent, nuzzling them and pushing them back
toward their parents who had finally noticed the party's return.
“Soren and the others have returned!” a young rambunctious beta named Arine
hollered, then to them, she said, “You decided not to remain with the humans after all.
We all thought that they would win you over.”
Soren finally shifted back into his human form, stretching as his limbs popped back
into their upright arrangement.
“Now why would you think that?” Soren asked, smiling.
Behind him, Homare snorted.
“Why indeed,” Eri said quietly.
He turned, glaring at his companions. The others avoided eye contact.
Homare raised his chin in challenge, and Soren had to stop himself from reacting. The
fact that the beta felt he had a right to challenge Soren, arguably the strongest alpha in
the pack, was a bad sign.
Yet, he was the one who was in the wrong.
They were right to be mad at him.
In front of him, the wolves who had been approaching to welcome them home and
discuss the trip slowed in their strides.
Multiple sets of noses lifted into the air, sniffing in confusion.
Arine had stopped, her normally jovial young face frozen in a frown.
“Soren,” she said slowly. “You smell different.”
The news of Soren’s misguided mating would spread fast, but he did not want to be
here to see the faces of all his friends and family turned toward him in disgust just yet.
“Where is Alpha Jin?” he asked. “Is he okay?”
“Of course, he is okay,” a deep voice said from the back of the forming crowd.
 Kamon's large form emerged from between the people, striding confidently toward
Soren with a cold smile in place on his sharp features.
“Tell me Soren, why would that be your first question?”
An equally cold smile fell onto Soren's lips.
“You know why,” he said.
Kamon's jaw tightened.
“You think I would hurt my alpha?” he asked, voice low.
Soren could see in Kamon's eyes that he was right. He had the look of someone
caught red-handed.
“Perhaps if you'd been left alone with him?” Soren suggested.
Kamon opened his mouth, ready to splutter a response before his frown suddenly
deepened in surprise. He sniffed the air around Soren's face and then grinned, his fangs
on full display.
“What's this?” Kamon demanded. “The priggish Soren has finally chosen a mate?”
He took a deep inhale of the rest of the party.
“And to someone not of our pack! Tell me, were you drinking?” He laughed loudly. “It
must have taken a skinful for you to mate with someone out of passion.”
Soren shoved roughly past Kamon, trying not to look at all the shocked faces as he
shouldered through them.
He didn't stop to speak to any of the others who tried to stop him to say hello. He
didn't want to see the expressions on their faces when they realized he was no longer a
free wolf.
His heart ached by the time he reached Alpha Jin's dwelling.
The guards did not say a word, or even react to Soren's new scent, even though he
knew they could smell it.
For that and for keeping Alpha Jin safe, he was eternally grateful to them.
“May I enter?” he asked.
They nodded, moving aside for Soren to step through the hanging drapes.
Alpha Jin's cave was dark and warm, the air stale.
He didn't mind though. It was familiar and comforting to be surrounded by his alpha's
scent.
In the corner, he saw the still lump on his bed.
“Alpha Jin,” he said quietly.
There was silence for a beat and then the lump shifted.
“Soren, you have returned.”
He began to sit up, and Soren moved swiftly to his side, helping him.
“What's this?” Alpha Jin asked, looking up at him with sharp eyes that although heavy
with age, were still so much like Soren’s.
“You smell different.”
Soren swallowed.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I may have made a huge mistake.”
“Come, sit. Tell me about it.”
Soren did as he was told, taking the stool next to Alpha Jin's bed. As his eyes
adjusted, he could see the alpha's face more clearly. Perhaps it was because he hadn't
seen his weathered skin for two days, but whatever the reason, his grandfather looked
much older than he had before. With a sinking feeling, Soren realized that he would not
be here much longer.
The thought staggered him for a moment. Even though he'd known for a long time,
now he felt like he could see Alpha Jin's remaining days and they were in the single
digits.
“What happened?” Alpha Jin pressed, patting the back of Soren's hand.
Somehow, he managed to keep his voice even when he answered.
“I met a human man at the celebration...”
“And? What possessed you to make him your mate?”
Soren swallowed.
“I believed he was fated for me, Alpha.”
He could feel Alpha Jin's eyes boring into his face.
“Then he was,” he said firmly. “There is no reason to feel shame over that. You were
given a gift from the universe. It is a sign of your place in it. Those who are meant for
great things, are given great gifts.”
Soren's heart raced.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“I wish that could be true,” he whispered. “But he left me. Without a word. I do not
even know where he is now.”
Alpha Jin hummed thoughtfully.
“That is unfortunate. It will make it much harder for you to find him.”
Soren stared.
“What do you mean?”
Alpha Jin leaned forward, gripping his hand with surprising strength.
“You must find your mate Soren. You cannot live without him.”
Soren found himself chuckling darkly. Images of Nikolai laying beneath him, skin
gleaming brightly in the dim moonlight flashed through his mind.
“He left,” he repeated firmly. “I can live without someone who chose that.”
“But what about him?” Alpha Jin asked. “Can he live without you?”
Soren blinked.
“What do you mean?”
“You are an alpha. You are strong. You will survive. But him…”
Again, Soren saw Nikolai’s willowy frame in his mind. His small stature and soft skin.
He took a shuddering breath.
“No,” he insisted. “He is human. Their kind is not affected by the whims of the moon.”
“But he has been mated to a wolf… What if he goes into heat for the first time and
you are not there to help him?”
Soren’s chest tightened at the thought.
But if that were to happen, Nikolai would find someone else to ease his aching body.
He would be fine.
“He did not return my bite,” Soren insisted weakly. “Surely that means my bond will
fade.”
“Perhaps.”
For a moment, Soren felt overwhelmed by all the what-ifs. Then, he returned to the
moment, and to the sound of his alpha’s labored breaths.
“He chose his people. I am choosing mine,” Soren said firmly.
As time went on, their bond would grow weaker, he was sure. Right now, he would
have to be dragged away from his dear alpha on his last days.
Fated mate or not, they had made their decisions.
 CHAP T E R 4

ANDREY

T heir parents, although typically attentive, pleasant people, did not seem to think
much of Nikolai's mood since returning from the ball nearly a week ago. Perhaps
they thought Nik had decided to turn a new leaf and fall in line.
He hadn't spoken back once. He hadn't playfully mocked their brother Viktor's fashion
sense. He hadn't snuck anyone into his room late at night, as far as Andrey had seen, and
he was bad at hiding it when he did—which was frequent.
Viktor had noticed, though he hadn’t said anything about it. Talking wasn’t his way,
bless poor Maya’s heart, Andrey didn’t know how the lovely woman handled him.
Today, in an attempt at catching Nikolai’s attention, Viktor had shown up to breakfast
in a lime green number that hurt Andrey's eyes to look at.
Nik hadn't said a word, even after Viktor's wife, Maya insisted he had to change after
breakfast.
Nikolai only smiled politely when Viktor asked if he liked it and then, the moment the
meal was done, he'd asked to be excused to his room.
“What the devil has gotten into him?” Viktor grumbled the moment he was gone.
“Probably love trouble,” Maya said. “Stop trying to rile him up.”
“Maybe. He hasn’t been right since they came home from Tasnia a day early.”
Viktor fixed a suspicious glare on Andrey who quickly looked away.
“Can I be excused?” he asked, taking Nik’s lead, and perhaps that had been too
obvious because now everyone was looking at him like he was hiding something.
“Nothing happened at the ball,” he blurted guiltily. “You would have heard by now,
right? There would have been some sort of gossip or something.”
Finally, his father waved him off.
“Yes, yes. We know you would have told us of any trouble. You're excused.”
Andrey's guilt increased tenfold, but he nodded and pushed to his feet.
He didn't ever lie to his parents, and he always did as they said. Andrey didn't like
getting in trouble or dealing with conflict of any kind, really. That was why he kept such
control over his life, always trying to prepare for anything that might happen.
Ultimately, that was why he would have to go talk to Nikolai as soon as possible.
There was no denying that his brother was acting strangely.
He'd had so many bedpartners Andrey didn't even want to know the number, yet
when he had returned to their room that night after the festivities had long been ended,
he had sounded shaken.
The fact that Nikolai hadn't brushed the situation off yet filled Andrey with worry.
He had a very bad feeling that Nikola had done something that couldn't be swept
under the rug this time.

NIKOLAI

NIKOLAI IGNORED the knock on his bedroom door.

He was bundled up under the covers, much as he had been since arriving home days
ago.
“Nikolai, it's me.”
Andrey's worried voice, muffled through the door made him sad somehow.
His brother only cared about him. His whole family did and yet he could barely
summon the energy to even talk to them.
“Go away,” he muttered and hoped Andrey heard him because he didn’t have the
desire to repeat his words. He was too tired.
He felt like he was wasting away, although that sentiment made no sense at all. He
didn't feel sick perse. Just exhausted and world-weary. He did not want to stand or move
or eat. Nikolai supposed he was just depressed.
For the hundredth time, his hand drifted to the raised skin on his neck. Soren’s bite
was healing now, but a scar would remain.
Perhaps shifter bites were full of venom, like a snake.
“What the hell did you do to me Soren?” he whispered sullenly.
The damn shifter must have known that their mating would be too much for him, yet
he'd done it anyway.
And now, Nikolai, the man who could never get enough of a good cock inside him,
might die because of one.
The irony!
He groaned and spread out on the bed, hoping that he was just being dramatic.
He had felt strange since arriving home... if he was being honest, it was before that.
Crawling away from Soren while he slept had felt wrong.
And now his skin crawled at the thought of their night together and he couldn’t tell if it
was the feeling of spiders and bugs, or the gentle touch of a lover’s hands skating over
one’s body.
It was like the good and bad were fused and the longer Nikolai lay there, the stronger
the sensation grew.
Agitation filled him.
He didn't know whether he should scratch his skin profusely or find someone to hold
him tightly.
Scratching didn’t work.
Frustrated, he leaped from the bed and began pacing the length of his room, kicking
things out of the way, namely the chair at the desk, then the small table that sat in the
corner, then the items that had fallen off of it. He didn't even care when his foot met the
beautiful glass ornament his friend Harrod had given him years ago.
It was a rose that Harrod had sent Nikolai after they’d spent an entire weekend
fucking just before he'd had to travel for his studies.
Nikolai thought of that, agitation mounting until he stomped down on the thing,
feeling it crunch under his slippers.
A shard of the shattered pink glass went up past the sole and sliced cleanly through
the skin of his ankle. For a moment, he froze in shock, then he dropped down to the floor,
staring at the mess, alarmed by the steady drip of blood pouring into the thick white
carpet.
He pressed a palm to the shallow cut for a minute, stopping the bleeding.
When he pulled his hand back, it was trembling.
And his cock was achingly hard.
And all he could think of was Soren.
Groaning, Nikolai pressed his face into his hands.
“Get a grip,” he whispered, but he couldn't stop the mounting desire as it continued to
grow, swiftly passing from need to pain. His entire body tingled and itched with it.
Then, he remembered Soren’s jacket which was tucked away neatly in the wardrobe.
Before Nikolai knew what he was doing, he was there, whipping the wardrobe open and
pressing his face to the soft fur.
Peace washed over him at Soren’s subtle scent.
For a moment, Nikolai stood there, breathing him in, then, he yanked the jacket out
and walked to the bed, laying back on it, letting the fabric completely cover his face.
He’d completely lost his mind. It was official.
When he touched his cock, it was too sensitive and hurt too much. Even the fabric he
wore felt uncomfortable and constricting. Pushing his pants down, and exposing himself
to the air helped, but not enough.
Unable to take it any longer, he gripped his length loosely, hissing in a breath at the
tender sensation, but he forced his fist to remain closed around his member and gently
began to stroke.
Nikolai was in tears before he gave up, but somehow, not touching himself felt worse.
As he lay there, shaking, it suddenly occurred to him that he needed to be relieved
from the inside, where he could be pleasured and made to orgasm without his cock being
rubbed. That would give him relief. He was sure.
He reached down, spreading his knees and plunging a finger into his hole. To Nikolai's
shock, he was wet.
He withdrew his finger, trembling even harder as he lifted his hand and the edge of
the jacket simultaneously, to stare at the sheen coating his digit.
What the hell had Soren done to him?
He was producing something like a woman did, not that he knew from first-hand
experience.
He let the fabric fall back over his face and reached down again, noting the ease with
which his finger slid inside. It immediately offered him some relief to press against his
prostate.
Seizing that, he hugged his knees to better his reach and went into it with renewed
vigor. If he could just climax, this strange feeling would finally pass.
With that thought in mind, he tried to hurry the process. There was no need though,
he was so aroused and the feeling of his tight hole, slippery wet around his single finger
alone was nearly enough. He added another finger, clenching around them, liquid
dripping from his hole as he continued to massage his prostate with quick pleasurable
thrusts.
Crying out, Nikolai threw his head back, pressing in deep while come spluttered from
his tip. It still hurt a little bit, but as soon as the last lingering tremors ran through his
body, the pain began to subside.
He nearly cried in relief, collapsing flat, his body exhausted.
His cock began to deflate against his smooth stomach, his hole was slippery wet, and
felt so strange when he clenched his cheeks.
Really, what the hell had Soren done to his body?
He'd affected him somehow. The wild, shifter seed must be potent in more ways than
one. First driving him mad, acting as an aphrodisiac next, then making his very body
change to better suit Soren's cock, it seemed.
Despite himself, he imagined the ease with which that large cock would slide into his
hole now. Even his knot could most likely slide in and out, stretching him further with
each thrust.
Nikolai's breath caught at the thought.
His cock swelled with excitement, and he groaned.
“No,” he muttered helplessly. “Not now.”
But his cock did not listen, so he reached down taking it in his hand.
Now that it had been relieved, it didn't hurt as much to touch. Still, he was gentle with
it, stroking while he remembered Soren stretching him.
He turned into his pillow, letting the jacket finally fall off, then pressed his face into
the pillow it covered, moaning as he came onto his rumpled sheet.
As soon as he did, he was pushing onto his knees, face still buried in Soren’s jacket
while he reached back, pressing his fingers in again.
It wasn't enough.
No one he'd ever been with would be enough.
 He needed Soren.

ALL NIGHT NIKOLAI tried to satisfy himself. He fell in and out of consciousness, waking up
exhausted, his hips moving against the bed desperately seeking relief that he could not
get.
He was covered in sweat, the slick wetness from his hole, and come. He felt dirty but
was too sore to get to the wash basin.
It wasn't until a knock sounded on the door that he even realized that it was morning.
He shuddered at the thought of his valet arriving to ready him for the day. He couldn't
do it. He couldn’t go to breakfast and pretend to be normal. He couldn't even get out of
his soiled bed.
“Nik, are you awake? It's me again…”
The sound of Andrey's voice nearly made him cry.
He found himself sagging in relief even before he replied.
“Come in.”
His voice was so quiet he wasn't sure if his brother could have heard it, but a moment
later, the door creaked open.
Before Andrey entered, Nikolai remembered his state and dragged the blanket up
around himself.
Andrey shut the door behind him and stood for a long moment looking into Nik's dimly
lit room.
His face was stricken with worry as he approached the bed.
“Nik,” he whispered. “Are you ill?”
Nikolai felt incredibly weak. That was perhaps why he immediately burst into tears,
quiet sobs wreaking his body.
Andrey came forward at once, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking his hair
back.
“Nikolai, what happened?”
“It was S—Soren,” he gasped. “He did something to me.”
Andrey stared.
“The shifter?” he asked. “What do you mean? How could he have?”
“Sleeping with him did something,” Nikolai choked, feeling ridiculous even as he said
it. “I feel like I'm dying. I need him.”
Andrey's grey eyes were wide, watching in horror.
“I'm telling our parents!” he said, jumping to his feet.
Nik nearly did die, right there and then.
“No! Andrey! This is already embarrassing enough. Don't tell anyone.”
Andrey shook his head regretfully.
“This is beyond my level Nikolai,” he said sympathetically. “I don't know what is wrong
with you. I don't know anything about shifters. I don’t know how to fix this.”
“I can tell you what's wrong with me,” Nikolai insisted, “and how to fix it.”
 Andrey waited and dammit that meant Nikolai had to open his mouth and force the
embarrassing facts out.
“It's like I've been drugged by... an aphrodisiac.”
Andrey's lips parted in surprise.
“Oh... then, perhaps I should call one of your friends—”
“No!” Nikolai interrupted. “I want Soren. He's the only one.”
“But you wanted to leave him behind. You woke me up before dawn to run—”
“I know!”
Nikolai shuddered.
“Please,” he finally whispered. “The thought of anyone else touching me makes me
feel ill.”
Indeed, this conversation alone was turning his stomach.
Andrey leaned over him, squeezing his arm warmly.
“I’ll be back shortly,” he promised. “Try to rest.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I’m going to try to get you your shifter,” Andrey said resolutely.
 CHAP T E R 5

NIKOLAI

N ikolai’s dirty laundry being aired turned out to be not nearly as humiliating as he’d
thought it would be. For one, he was in too much discomfort to care about
embarrassment. It also helped that nobody seemed to find it remotely funny.
Nikolai had been assisted in bathing, barely able to stand being touched without
twitching or crying. Then he was dressed in soft clothing before being taken to face his
family.
He had to be helped into the sitting room where they were waiting for him.
The stricken looks on their faces made the severity of the situation weigh down on
him even more than anything else.
His father had told him countless times that the way he so flippantly jumped into bed
with boys would lead to trouble. Somehow, Nikolai didn't think he had meant this.
Even Vik didn’t crack a single joke.
They all stared at him with worry in their eyes.
“Leave us,” his father said to the two servants helping Nikolai walk.
He felt weak on his feet but made it to an armchair before collapsing.
“Andrey told us the full story,” his father informed him.
Somehow Nikolai doubted Andrey had told the full story. After all, he didn't know the
details.
“So, you slept with a shifter,” the king carried on.
Nikolai nodded weakly.
“And now you are ill...”
His mother sniffled and Nikolai tried to ignore the guilt filling him.
“Andrey said that you feel like you’ve been doused with an aphrodisiac… How do you
know that is not what happened? Perhaps you have been drugged since returning home?”
Nikolai shook his head. His gaze fell to his lap because it was too hard to meet any of
their eyes when he next spoke.
 “No, it was him. I’m sure because…”
Unable to bring himself to say it, Nikolai reached for the high collar of his shirt and
pulled it aside, exposing the mark Soren had left him with.
Eyes trained on the floor, he heard their collective gasps.
“There's more,” he admitted, letting the fabric fall back into place. “He may have said
that we were now life mates.”
“H—he didn't tell me that part!” Andrey said and Nikolai looked up to find his father
fixing his older brother with an accusatory stare. “I would have told you at once had I
known.”
“It's true,” Nikolai said, jumping to his defense. “I didn't want any trouble. I convinced
Andrey to leave early but didn't tell him the true reason.”
He swallowed, looking at his father as tears filled his eyes.
“I feared the prospect. Now, it seems that being apart is even worse. Please, can you
send word to the wolf shifters?”
They all exchanged looks.
“What is it?” Nikolai asked in trepidation. What if something had happened to Soren?
“Shifters of any sort are hard to reach, love,” his mother said.
Nikolai stared at her.
“They can't be that elusive. The ball was full of shifters. Andrey, tell them.”
“Yes, but the Tasnian carrier birds kept being eaten, Nikolai,” Viktor jumped in, voice
full of irritation. “Nikolai we all laughed about it. Remember? They had to send
messengers out into the wilderness to invite them properly.”
The story came back to Nikolai. He remembered finding it hilarious at the time. The
thought of getting to meet beings so different from humans had thrilled him. He'd been
so happy that the others had made prior engagements. He would have begged to be at
that ball if he hadn't been sure he was going. He'd wanted to meet the different races, to
see how they interacted and spoke, and yes, even how they fucked. Although he'd been
hoping for more than one such excursion seeing as they were supposed to be there for
two full days, but that thought felt strange now.
How could he have peeled himself away from Soren if they had stayed longer?
“I will call for the doctor,” his father said. “We will find another way for this to leave
your system.”
“No,” Nikolai found himself whispering. “There is no other way... Their bonds use
magic, Father. You know what happened to Prince Nemir.”
“He was mated to an oaf,” his father argued. “They use elf magic. The shifters are
hardly casting spells.”
“True, but we don't know how their bonds work.”
“Go to him,” his mother said, agreeing with his unspoken words. “Andrey will keep you
company, won't you Andrey?”
She placed a hand on his arm, giving him the hopeful, motherly look that no one could
say no to.
Andrey sighed heavily and didn't argue.
“Doesn't it make more sense to send someone to fetch Nik's shifter?” Viktor
interjected. “Why would they go there? They may not be greeted with open arms. After
all, Nikolai mated with the man and then ran.”
Although Nikolai had been holding it together through this meeting, and although, the
idea of traveling anywhere but to his bed made him feel like he was going to cry, he
shook his head.
He looked at each of them, hoping they saw the sincerity and desperation in his eyes
before he spoke.
“I can’t wait that long.”

SOREN

SOREN STALKED across the plateau of the pack square, lost in thought.
“You should be out hunting with the others,” Anzu said, drawing his attention back to
the real world. “Or, at the very least, you should go for a run.”
Soren looked down at the omega. She was heavily pregnant, sitting with the other
omegas around the fire, working on small projects while lunch was cooked.
“I wish I could,” Soren said.
“Why can't you?” she asked, piercing him with a look.
Soren glanced up the mountain walls behind them. He could just see the entrance to
Alpha Jin's dwelling.
Jin would be safe. Most of the pack's alphas were currently bounding through the
trees, stretching their limbs or hunting for food.
Soren looked out over the view. Below, mountains and valleys stretched, trees
reaching high. Now that they were past winter, the chill in the air growing milder by the
day, the trees were regaining their leaves and the entire land appeared to be blossoming.
It was like the very earth was waking up. He'd always loved this season. Normally, it
filled him with hope and excitement for the year to come.
Apparently, Anzu saw his answer in his expression, because she reached out, picked
up some of the fabric she was working on, and held them up for Soren to take.
“Come sit,” she said. “Help me.”
Soren did as she said, taking the scraps and the seat next to her.
She seemed to be stitching something.
“Socks, she explained, showing him her progress on the tiny pair.
He smiled gently.
They were so cute.
At some point, he had thought about children. A little flock of them with a loving
omega of his own. Now he wasn't sure if that would ever happen. He had hoped the bond
would fade faster than it was. Instead, Soren only felt more agitated and frustrated the
longer he and Nikolai were apart.
Mating was supposed to be an incredible experience. A blissful connection that could
not be broken.
For a few hours, he had tasted that. He had felt the love and warmth and connection.
Now he felt only emptiness and disappointment.
“How have you been feeling?” Anzu asked casually.
Soren shrugged.
“Fine.”
“It can't be easy, losing your mate—”
“It's fine,” Soren insisted, only cutting her off because he noticed the other omegas
listening carefully. Eri was among them, on the opposite side of the fire, her lips pursed
into a sour expression.
He sighed. They were already listening, so he may as well try to right this now. The
time since his arrival home had been frustrating enough already. He wanted to end it. He
wanted things to go back to how they were. He wanted to pretend that Nikolai did not
exist out there, shunning him somewhere in a palace while Soren faced ridicule and
disgust for giving him the most precious gift he possessed.
“It wasn't a true bond,” he said, just loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I can
already feel it fading.”
He paused. Not used to lying, the fact that he was doing so now made the rest of
what he wanted to say flee him.
“What were you even thinking?” Eri suddenly demanded. “There are plenty of suitable
omegas here.”
Soren took a moment before meeting her hurt glare.
“You're right,” he said. “I was intoxicated, and the human seduced me. In my delirious
state, I believed that we were fated mates.”
He laughed bitterly.
“That couldn't be further from the truth. I'm glad that he did not bite me and I'm
relieved that those feelings are now fading.”
Soren wanted to go on, he wanted to further secure his previous position as a
desirable alpha, one worthy of mating with, but he simply could not force another false
word out.
Luckily, Eri said it for him.
“That is good news,” she said, and a smile lifted her lips and brightened her eyes,
turning her back into the pretty girl that he knew her to be. “As soon as that near-bond
mark fades from him, you will be free to pick a new omega. One worthy of you.”
Soren swallowed and nodded resolutely, but he simply could not bring himself to
return her smile. He could not pretend to be hopeful. He could not pretend for another
moment that he was not crushed.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, handing back Anzu’s supplies and pushing to his feet but
before he could make it to his den and into bed where he could nurse his wounds, there
was a great commotion.
 CHAP T E R 6

SOREN

S oren ran.
His heart hammered, body insisting it couldn't be true. He shifted mid-stride to
get there faster, still unable to believe what he was hearing as Nikolai's voice became
clearer to his wolf's ears.
When he spotted the approaching group, his entire body stilled in shock.
Nikolai was here, in his homeland, unmistakable with those round brown eyes and
Soren’s coat draped over his shoulders.
He was with another human, being practically dragged up the last of the incline by
two of the alphas. Soren only noticed that one of them was Kamon when the other alpha
turned his face toward Nikolai, pressing his nose behind his ear and inhaling with a
sickening grin.
At that same moment, the wind shifted, and Soren smelled the sweet scent of his
omega in heat.
A growl tore through him.
He shot toward the group who were jostling Nikolai, jumping with a ferocious snarl
that made the other human scream.
Soren threw himself between Kamon and Nikolai, not thinking about how close they
were to the ledge. Fury drove him to act, and the others could handle it. Kamon caught
himself on the rocks at the edge, the other alpha jumped before he fell, but Nikolai was
not as agile and stumbled.
Soren was shifted and reaching out before he even knew what he was doing.
His hands closed around Nikolai's arms, catching him just before he fell.
Nikolai gasped and their eyes met.
For a moment, it was like nothing else existed.
Then the scent of Nikolai's heat enveloped him, flooding all his senses.
He pulled back from the edge, taking Nikolai with him and suddenly he was aware of
the other alphas watching.
Kamon smirked.
“It's a false bond. Isn’t that what you’ve been going around telling everybody?” he
asked, taking a step toward them as more alphas arrived from their hunt, their path up
the pass blocked by the scene. “Doesn’t that mean this one’s up for grabs?”
Soren snarled, baring all his fangs, his body itching, fur on the verge of coming
through his skin.
He would have attacked already, but he couldn't leave Nikolai unattended, not when
so many other alphas hovered near. The fact that they were all close enough to smell
him was bad enough.
“Here, omega,” a soft voice said to his side.
Soren swirled, snapping, ready to fight whoever was trying to take his mate.
At the sight of Anzu, he stopped himself at the last second.
She bowed down in submission.
“I'll take him to your den,” she said softly, reaching out with a trembling hand for
Nikolai, clearly worried that Soren would not be able to control himself while he was in
this state.
“Go with her,” he snarled in Nikolai's direction.
Nikolai only hesitated for a moment and then took her hand, allowing her to pull him
away.
With steel-like force, Soren remained where he was.
“You too,” Anzu said, offering a hand to the other human who was standing trembling
against the rocks, looking pale.
He hurried to her side.
Soren sniffed the air.
Beta. Good. He wouldn't be affected by Nikolai's heat the way the rest of them were.
An omega in heat was dangerous for everyone involved unless their alpha took care of
them quickly, the temptation could be too much.
Case in point, as soon as Nikolai was far enough away that they could no longer smell
him, Soren felt reason slowly return.
His hackles lowered, his muscles easing. He saw the others shift, the fight leaving
their form.
“How did you get him?” he demanded.
“We didn't,” Kamon snapped. “We found your omega searching the mountainside for
you with an entire human entourage.”
“We agreed to bring him to you, but not the others,” Botan said, stepping to the front.
“He insisted on his brother joining though.”
Soren stared at them all.
“If any of you so much as touched him—”
“Relax,” Kamon sneered. “No one wants your seconds. Why else would we bring him
to you?”
Why indeed.
It wasn't out of goodwill.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
been running along without much change. Several
Russian destroyers came into the harbor this afternoon.
July 7th. A lot more of the men got Paris liberty to-day.
We had a bad little accident on board. The hook at the
bow of the small motor sailer pulled out when the boat
was suspended about forty feet above the water. It fell and
three men working in it were spilled into the drink. Mr.
Mason, assistant engineer, struck his back and head and
was badly bruised.... 9th. I certainly will be glad when the
other signal-men get back from Paris. These twelve-hour
watches are wearing me out. There are two rumors—one
that we are to go to sea again for three days, put in at
Saint-Nazaire, out again three days, and then back. The
other rumor is that we are going to England. I hope this is
correct. This is the first time I have felt homesick, and for
some reason to-night I do. I guess it is because poor old
Art Coffey is to be shipped back to the States. His eye
trouble can’t be treated over here. Nothing has happened
aboard ship excepting that the commander told Art that
the Corsair would not go back home for a long, long time,
if he could help it. Golly, but I would like to go; not to stay,
but just to get a glimpse of home and the folks.
July 13th. Spent the morning washing my white clothes.
A new rumor! We are to leave here Saturday for five days,
put into Queenstown for coal and then back to the States,
spend a couple of weeks there and then convoy the
National Guardsmen or more of the Regular Army back. I
hope this is true. How I would like to see a real country
again. France is beautiful, but dead. Brest is no livelier
than Edgartown and there is only one Paris. Its name is
New York. This was Friday, the 13th, so I was mighty
careful to watch my step. To-morrow is the French Fourth
of July and it is a big fête day. Wish I were going ashore to
see the celebration. Met some Yale men off the Harvard
and they are very nice chaps. I am improving on the
blinker signals and feel encouraged. No more dope!
 The Corsair sailed next day on her first patrol cruise, and the
author of the foregoing observations affords us a glimpse of what the
job seemed like while they were becoming hardened to it. He goes
on to say:
July 15th. At sea. A cold, rough day. I feel a bit shaky
and have a sore throat. Our work out here is answering
S.O.S. calls, looking for submarines, and convoying
merchant ships. We convoyed one Dane and two
Britishers most of the day. One of the Limies had swapped
shots with a sub.... No chance to take off my clothes or
wash. Took a practice shot at a barrel and hit it at half a
mile.... 17th. Ran over a submarine at 2.15 a.m. but could
not get a shot at it. This trip has been awful weather most
of the time, rain, mist, wind, and fog. Nothing is dry on the
whole ship. Anybody that says life in the Navy is a cinch
has never been in it. If this war lasts a year we shall all be
changed men.
July 20th. Back at Brest. The Harvard came in with
survivors of two torpedoed ships. One crew had been
blown up twice within twenty-four hours. They had been
picked up and then the rescuing ship was sunk. The
submarine took the captain and the gunner along as
prisoners.... 21st. At sea. This has been a very exciting
day. We have seen three submarines. We fired at one
periscope and either hit it or near it. When the splash
cleared away the submarine had disappeared. We were at
our battle stations almost all day. We passed a great deal
of wreckage, some of it barrels of oil and gasoline. Also
passed an upset lifeboat with two masts and a beautiful
big life-raft. We always cruise around such objects before
approaching them, as they may be submarine bait. I stood
the midnight watch and sighted a light which we headed
towards. It turned out to be a large American schooner,
deserted and on fire. The masts were gone and it was a
complete wreck. We met a British Naval Reserve ship
bound to Africa, a funny-looking craft for ocean work, flat-
bottomed with side wheels.
July 23rd. To-day we had lots of excitement. In my
watch I discovered an object five miles off which looked
exactly like a periscope. I sounded the alarm and we
approached it very carefully. It turned out to be a large
piece of wreckage with a ventilator on top. More empty
lifeboats to-day, and no clew to tell where they came from.
At night Captain Kittinger sighted a strange ship which he
swore was a submarine. It proved to be a British destroyer
and the joke was on the skipper.
July 26th. In port. To-day as per our weekly schedule we
coaled ship with the usual results. Filth and coal dust
everywhere. Instead of coaling I had to stand a twelve-
hour signal watch. In sending a semaphore message to
the Vidette I was nearly killed. A Spanish freighter was
between the two ships and I had to climb into the rigging
about fifty feet above the deck. As I could not hold on with
either hand, only with my feet, it was ticklish work. I
slipped and started to fall, but luckily caught hold of the
rigging in time and saved myself. It was too close for
comfort. A torpedo missed the Noma by ten feet. Wow!
July 27th. Sailed this morning to meet and escort U.S.
troop-ships. The Aphrodite is supposed to be with us, but
she blew a boiler tube and has gone back. We had a
pretty close shave this afternoon. Ran into a mine field,
but zigzagged through it and, thank God, dodged them all.
A mine would blow every one of us to kingdom come
without a chance to get a boat over.... 29th. Left the
transports we were convoying at Saint-Nazaire and then
put out to patrol our regular area. Escorted several ships
to-day, most of them British. One of the Limies was an
awful bonehead and when we demanded to know his
nationality he showed no colors. We hoisted our battle flag
at the fore, but he came to and ran up his ensign just as
we were about to throw a shot across his bow. We
convoyed a big Cunarder, the Tuscania, carrying mail and
supplies from America to Falmouth and dropped her at the
end of our patrol area. Our Queenstown destroyers
probably picked her up after we left her.... 31st. Early this
morning a Greek steamer got mixed in her bearings and
nearly ran into us. We had to stop and back at full speed.
This is the roughest day I have ever seen on the ocean.
The waves are half as high as the mast. We are shipping
water almost constantly and it is dangerous to walk on
deck.
August 2nd. Left Saint-Nazaire convoying the
Bohemian. This is the largest cargo ship afloat, and it is
quite a feather in our cap to be given the escort duty. The
roughest sea yet and it is impossible to enter our
compartment below. Almost everybody seasick. A big
wave carried away our hatch ventilator and mess gear last
night with a terrible crash. I was asleep, and when the
noise came and the water poured down on us I thought
we were sinking. I grabbed my life-preserver and started
for my station, but got word that all was well, so went back
to my bunk. It was soaked, with six inches of water on the
deck under me, but I slept anyhow.
STARTING THE SWIMMING RACE FROM A MOORING
BUOY
 WATER SPORTS ON THE FOURTH OF JULY. THE
RACE BETWEEN LIFE-RAFTS WITH COAL SHOVELS
FOR PADDLES

August 15th. Convoying the Celtic. We had been at sea

only two hours when the fo’castle began shipping water
which lavishly deluged the “hell-hole” below, as usual. I
slept in the motor sailer and got wet, as usual. It rained on
me all night and all I had was one blanket. My clothes
dried out in the wind.... Left the Celtic and started for
Brest. Got an S.O.S. call and headed for it. Found three
ships there, but no sign of a torpedoed vessel. I
understand that she was not sunk, but got away under her
own steam. I slept in a boat again. Couldn’t stand it below
decks. Hear we coal to-morrow and put to sea again at
night. Hope it’s a lie.
August 19th. Got liberty after coaling ship and went
ashore. Was hungry, so bought quite a dinner—one
omelette, two steaks, two orders of peas and potatoes,
tomato salad, three plates of ice-cream, five small cakes,
 two peaches, coffee, and some champagne. Wasn’t at all
hungry when I got through. The life begins to agree with
me.
It may be noted that in these extracts from the day’s routine of
several weeks of active duty, the Corsair was engaged in patrolling a
certain definite area of ocean and in escorting single ships through
her block, like a policeman on a beat, or in saving mariners and
vessels in distress. Incidentally she endeavored to lift the scalp of
Fritz whenever opportunity offered. These areas, as laid off on the
chart in degrees of latitude and longitude, would measure perhaps
sixty by one hundred miles. The same system was employed by the
Queenstown destroyer flotilla during the early months of its service.
Some protection was given shipping and the submarines were driven
farther offshore, but as an offensive campaign the patrol system was
a little better than nothing. Of the destroyer patrol, Admiral Sims had
this to say:
The idea is sound enough if you can have destroyers
enough. We figured that to make the patrol system work
with complete success, we should have to have one
destroyer for every square mile. The area of the destroyer
patrol off Queenstown comprised about 25,000 square
miles. In other words, the complete protection of the trans-
Atlantic trade would have required about 25,000
destroyers.
The alternative and by far the more effective scheme was to group
a number of merchant vessels or transports and send them out from
port or take them in with a sufficient force of destroyers and yachts to
screen the convoy from submarine attack. Valuable ships could not
be allowed to run by themselves. This was the procedure worked out
and generally adopted after the United States had come into the war,
and it made possible the enormous task of placing two million men in
France and feeding a large part of Europe besides.
When the Corsair was on the Breton patrol, in company with other
American yachts, it was difficult to realize how few U-boats were
actually cruising at one time and how great were the odds against
finding one in a designated patrol area.
Now in this densely packed shipping area [declared
Admiral Sims], extending, say, from the north of Ireland to
Brest, there were seldom more than eight or ten
submarines operating at any one time. The largest
number I had record of was fifteen, but this was
exceptional. The usual number was four, six, eight, or
perhaps ten. We estimated that the convoys and troop-
ships brought in reports of sighting about three hundred
submarines for every submarine actually in the field. We
also estimated that for every hundred submarines the
Germans possessed, they could keep only ten or a dozen
at work in the open sea. Could Germany have kept, let us
say, fifty submarines constantly at work on the great
shipping routes in the winter and spring of 1917, before
we had learned how to handle the situation, nothing could
have prevented her from winning the war. Instead of
sinking 850,000 tons in a single month, she would have
sunk 2,000,000 or 3,000,000 tons.
With such handicaps it was all the more creditable to the Corsair
and her sister yachts that they were able to accomplish so much in
the summer of 1917, before they were shifted to the troop and
supply convoys. It was knight-errantry, in a way, this work of the
Breton Patrol—rough-riders of the sea whose spirit was akin to that
of the impetuous regiment which Theodore Roosevelt led at
Santiago. The Breton pilots were eloquent in admiration, but
shrugged their shoulders at the notion of weathering a Bay of Biscay
winter in these yachts, so slender, so elegant, of such light
construction, of a certainty built for pleasure and le sport!
The programme of patrol duty sent the larger yachts out two and
two, each pair to be relieved after four days at sea. The Corsair and
Aphrodite were coupled as cruising in adjoining areas, and when
they returned to port the Noma and Kanawha went out to take the
same stations. The smaller yachts of the “Suicide Fleet” were
assigned areas nearer the Breton coast, where they guarded the
shipping that flowed alongshore between the Channel and the ports
of France and Spain. The Patrol Instructions included the following
plan of operation:
When on an area patrol, vessels shall steer courses to
cover the area but the method adopted must be irregular.
Do not proceed with such regularity that the vessel’s
position may be plotted.
When on a line patrol, vessels shall proceed along the
line of patrol until reaching its extremity when a return over
the same line will be made. The courses steered must be
such that the advance of the vessel will be along the base
course.
When on patrol, vessels shall speak all ships sighted.
Obtain the following information:

(a) Name of vessel

(b) From where bound
(c) To where bound
(d) Character of cargo
(e) Nationality
(f) If defensively armed or not
(g) If escort is desired

If the vessel spoken is a valuable vessel, and is bound to a port on

the west coast of France, below Latitude 48° 30′ North, she may be
escorted. The fact that you have taken her under escort is to be sent
to the Base by radio, in code, in following manner:
Example: “Baltic under escort, bound to——”
When acting as escorting vessel, keep on exposed bow of convoy
and about 1200 yards ahead of her. Insist that all vessels zigzag day
and night. Escorting vessels to break joints when courses are
changed. Leave patrol and return to Base in time to arrive at or
about scheduled time.
 A WET DAY FOR THE DECK WATCH

FRENCH AND UNDERHILL ARE DOLLED UP FOR THE CAMERA

 Calls for assistance from vessels will be answered and in case of
disaster crews are to be rescued if possible. Report rescue of
survivors by radio in order to receive instructions.
Ordinary cruising speed of the faster vessels should be at least
twelve knots. Fires should be kept under all boilers. The slower
vessels should maintain a speed of nine knots or over.
Ships returning from patrol will signal, using numerals, the amount
of coal and water needed. Coaling may commence upon arrival in
port or be done the day after arrival.
When it was desired to have the Corsair find and escort some
particular ship or assemblage of them through part of the danger
zone, such instructions as the following were sent to her
commander:
United States Patrol Squadron, Flag Office
Brest, France, 27 July, 1917
Group Operation Order No. 2.
Force:—Group D.—Corsair, Aphrodite.
American convoy, speed 12 knots, escorted, should
arrive Saint-Nazaire 27 July. Make preparations so that it
can be piloted to destination without anchoring and
without stopping at sea. Saint-Nazaire has been informed.
Proceed in company as far as practicable, 28 July, to a
position about 50 miles west of Belle Isle, relieving
Kanawha and Noma.
Communicate with and join convoy. Radio FFK and FFL
for IL (use AFR) the probable hour of the entrance into the
Loire. Pilot the convoy as far as G’d Charpentier where
river pilots will be ready. Unless otherwise ordered, steer
to pass south of Belle Isle. The convoy must not stop at
sea or anchor.
The Corsair’s log-book and the official War Diary, which was sent
as a record to the Navy Department, are so laconic and technical
that one might conclude the Breton Patrol to be lacking in all
adventure. They serve to check up the yarns spun by the crew,
however, and have the merit of accuracy. Omitting the daily entries
of courses, position, and speed which could interest nobody, the
commander’s record of the first cruise out of Brest reads like this:
July 14, 1917. Under way from Brest for patrol area.
Spoke to British steamer Ardandeary bound for Falmouth
with general cargo.
15th. Speed 14 knots to investigate intercepted S.O.S.
Spoke to British steamer Itola for Falmouth with general
cargo. Spoke to Danish steamer Alf from Montreal for
Havre, course east, speed 9 knots, with general cargo.
She was not zigzagging and was making a great deal of
smoke.
16th. Exchanged recognition signals with three French
destroyers, escorting cargo ships. Intercepted S.O.S. from
British steamer Devon City, light, for Newport News. She
had sighted a periscope and fired five rounds at same and
it disappeared. Fired one shot from No. 2 gun at a floating
barrel, making a hit, distance about 400 yards. Arrived
south limit of patrol area. Changed course to west, parting
company with steamer Devon City.
17th. Headed for steamer on horizon. Spoke to British
steamer Medford for Plymouth with cargo of mineral
phosphate. Changed course to escort Medford. Held
target practice on floating wreckage. Changed course to
east, speed 12 knots, making best of way to Brest.
18th. Moored at Base.
19th. Coaling ship.
20th. Cleaning ship and preparing for cruise.
Two more cruises were made in the month of July, but they
furnished no thrilling episodes beyond the discovery of the burning
American schooner Augustus Weld which, no doubt, had been
shelled by a U-boat. What had become of her crew was left to
conjecture. This noble four-master was one of many Yankee sailing
vessels which dared the war zone, tempted by the chance of
fabulous profits, until the War Risk Board refused to grant them
insurance. The easiest marks in the world for submarines, they
loafed along in infested waters, at the whim of the fickle winds, or
drifted becalmed with towering canvas that was visible for many
miles. Some of them were sailed by sun-dried skippers from Maine
and Cape Cod who vowed they “would take her to hell and repeat if
the bonus was big enough.” The episode of the blazing, derelict
schooner profoundly impressed the crew of the Corsair. It was their
first glimpse of the heartless havoc of the U-boat.
They were learning that the service in the war zone was not all
adventure and exhilaration, but, for the most part, monotonous toil
and discomfort, just as the soldier in the trenches had found it out for
himself. To be wet and cold and slung about in a rolling ship, to
return to port and shovel coal until almost ready to go to sea again—
this was to be their lot month after month. The danger of it was
always present, but they soon became cheerfully indifferent. It went
without saying that at the explosion of a torpedo the yacht would fly
apart like a box of matches, but these young men snored soundly in
their uneasy bunks until the cruel boatswain’s mate bade them
“show a leg” or “rise and shine.”
With the elasticity of the American spirit they adjusted themselves
to this new manner of life and to the ways of the Navy. Their
language suffered an extraordinary sea change. They talked the
lingo of the bluejacket, which is not so much slang as a strong and
racy sort of expression. The officers were called “bolo-men” because
they adorned themselves with swords on official occasions. One
spoke of the ship’s cooks as “food destroyers,” or “belly robbers,”
which was sometimes unjust. To pipe down for mess, or the call to
meals, was shortened to “chow down,” and the meal pennant was
the “bean rag.” “A hash mark” had nothing to do with food, but was
the service stripe on a sailor’s sleeve.
 THE BURNING AMERICAN FROM THE CORSAIR’S
SCHOONER AUGUSTUS MAIN-TOP THE CONVOY
WELD STEAMS OUT

A “canary” was a man who slept in a hammock instead of a bunk,

and when he got up in the morning he “hit the deck.” The Corsair
never departed from port, but always “shoved off,” and when her
crew was granted liberty they “hit the beach.” Instead of putting on
clean clothes they “broke them out.” This phrase was used in so
many ways that a boyish seaman whose best girl had discarded him
for a doughboy was heard to confide that he “had broke out a pippin
of a new one.”
The period of enlistment was a “hitch” or a “cruise.” The depth
charges were seldom called such, but figured as “mines,” “ash cans,”
or “battle-bricks,” and the deck upon which they were carried was
always “topside.” Almost any foreigner was a “Spic,” barring the
Briton who was always a “Limey.” The yeomen, gunner’s mates, and
quartermasters of the Corsair were “politicians,” which slurred their
habits of industry. “Four bells” meant to move rapidly, and the weary
sailor did not fall asleep, but “calked off.” At the mess table it might
divert a landsman to see the catsup bottle pass in reply to a request
for the “red lead,” or to hear, “Put a fair wind behind the lighthouse”
when the salt cellar was desired.
During these early months of foreign service, both the morals and
the morale of a ship’s company were bound to be tested. Jack
ashore was traditionally presumed to take the town apart to see what
made it tick. But this was a different navy, just as the American Army
was to set new standards of behavior and self-respect. Among the
crew of the Corsair were all sorts and conditions of youth released
from the restraints of home ties and subjected to all the demoralizing
influences which must ever go hand-in-hand with war. It was a
saying among troops freshly landed, when they were inclined to run
riot, that France had gone to their heads, and there was something
in the excuse.
It was most noteworthy that the conduct of the sailors of the
American naval forces was everywhere commendable, whether
ashore in Brittany, or at Queenstown, or with the Grand Fleet at
Edinburgh. They were, in a sense, on honor to acquit themselves as
became the flag and the uniform, and in character, intelligence, and
upbringing a large percentage of them represented the best blood of
the United States. This was true of the Corsair and also typical of the
other ships manned by the Naval Reserve Force on the coast of
France.
Shore liberty at Brest was diverting as a respite from the crowded
ship and its routine, but the novelty was soon dispelled. It was
picturesque and colorful to ramble in the Rue de Siam where the
soldiers and sailors of many races jostled each other, but until the
Y.M.C.A. established its social centre in the port there was not much
else to do than eat and loaf and drink white wine and red. Of the
three days in port, coaling ship consumed so much time and energy
that leisure hours ashore were brief. There was no coaling
machinery at this important French naval base, and the American
yachts had the back-breaking job of filling baskets from barges
alongside and heaving the fuel aboard to be stowed in the bunkers.
The grimy slaves of the shovel envied the Queenstown destroyers
when these smart, immaculate craft tarried to fill their fuel tanks with
oil by inserting a hose in the deck and then fled back to their own
base.
Among the songs inspired by the day’s work it is no wonder that
the fo’castle or the “black gang” quartets should have led the close
harmony in such stentorian plaints as the following:

C-O-R-S-A-I-R,
Spells the old Corsair.
At home she used to be hard to coal,
And always made us swear;
But since we crossed the ocean
We have coaled at Saint-Nazaire!!
Wow!
C-O-R-S-A-I-R,
Spells the old Corsair.

COAL ON THE CORSAIR

(Tune of “Cheer for Old Amherst”)

Coal on the Corsair

Fill every bin,
We work like hell, boys,
Till it’s all in.
Boom, boom, boom!
We’ll never rest, boys,
When we’re in Brest, boys,
Corsair will coal to-day!
 There were temptations enough, Heaven knows, to live recklessly
when the liberty boats hit the beach, but the Corsair’s record was
excellent and her officers were proud of it. During July and August of
1917, when the crew was new to the game and the tendency to run
wild was perhaps strongest, almost all the offenses for which the
commander held mast and which were passed upon by deck court-
martials comprised overstaying liberty by a narrow margin of minutes
and other small infractions of the strict disciplinary code of the Navy.
And it should be mentioned that the enlisted force was permitted to
be ashore no later than nine-thirty o’clock in the evening. During the
whole sojourn of the Corsair in foreign waters, not a member of her
company was punished by a general court-martial. By way of
indicating how naval justice was dispensed, the entries in the log will
be found to read like this:
Lose pay amounting to
20 minutes overtime from liberty.
$5.00
35 ” ” ” ” ” ” ” ” ”
47 ” ” ” ” ” ” ” ” ”
Smoking below decks. ” ” ” ” ”
Disorderly and creating a disturbance after pipe
” ” ” ” ”
down.
Insubordination and insolence to a warrant officer. Warned.
Not keeping an efficient lookout. ”
Not making up bunk. ”
Not relieving watch on time. Excused.
 “COAL ON THE CORSAIR, FILL EVERY BIN.”

“WE WORK LIKE HELL, BOYS, TILL IT’S ALL IN.”

 As was bound to happen, an occasional “drunk and disorderly”
was included in these lists, but there were many kinds of men
aboard and such entries were amazingly infrequent when one
considers the circumstances. And the exiles of the Corsair learned
that there was possibly as much truth as poetry in the jingle which
ran through the ships of the Breton Patrol: “The Guy that Rates the
Croix de Guerre”:

’Tis not the man who, single-handed,

Kills ten or fifteen raging Huns,
’Tis not the man who safely landed
A bomb on Wilhelm’s long-range guns;
’Tis not the darling Red Cross sister
Who nursed the wounds in No Man’s Land,
’Tis not the ingenious mister
Who makes the lion lick his hand.
We must admit that all these guys are there.

But take the guy that crosses over

And lives in Brest a year,
The one who to a wife or lover
Returns with conscience clean and clear,
Who daily walks through Rue Guyot,
Gives icy stares to girlies wild,
And when approached, says, “Little Willie
Is mother’s darling angel child.”
Now he’s the Guy that rates the Croix de Guerre!
 CHAPTER IV
TRAGEDIES AND RESCUES

D URING the first three months of war duty, June, July, and
August, the Corsair steamed 11,738 miles, which was the
greatest distance logged by any of the yachts during the same
period. There was little time or opportunity for the grooming and
tinkering which a pleasure craft is presumed to receive. Blow high,
blow low, she went to sea at the appointed hour and the fires were
never dead under the boilers. In her forward deck-house was a
couplet, carved on a panel of wood, which she was living up to in full
measure:

“North, East, South and West,

The Corsair sails and knows no rest.”

The first cruise of August took the yacht to Saint-Nazaire, on the

4th, in company with the Aphrodite, Kanawha, and Noma, to escort a
group of empty transports to sea. This was safely accomplished, and
the Corsair returned to Brest where the Celtic was waiting to be
guarded through the danger zone. For lack of destroyers it was the
business of the yachts to take the big ships out after they had
discharged their troops or supplies. Having parted company with the
Celtic at Fourteen West and wished her good luck, the Corsair
hastened back for coal and further orders, which were to cruise in
the regular patrol area. The American steamer Carolyn was
expected, inbound and running alone, and the Corsair searched a
waste of waters until the magic of the radio found the unseen ship
and whispered to her this comforting message:
I am thirty miles west of you. Pass north of Belle Isle
and I will intercept you at daylight, in time to escort you
into Quiberon Bay.