Part One

Time stood still as another form emerged from the shadows, clothed completely in black like his father, the Lykae prince seemed to be as much a part of the shadows as the darkness itself. There was no doubt in Dorien's mind that he was just as powerful as his father as well. With each step closer, the Lykae Prince's power grew stronger, crawling across Dorien's skin like fire. A sense of Deja'vu overcame him at the sensation...he'd felt it somewhere before, but where?

And as the Lykae Prince's face emerged from the shadows it struck him where he had felt it. "You!"

The impossibly handsome face of the Darknar Laird was devoid of emotion as his cold obsidian gaze looked over Dorien scathingly. He was almost the exact replica of his father except whereas the Lykae King was ruggedly handsome, his son was what one would call 'beautiful.' His face would have been feminine beautiful but for the one scar bisecting a perfectly winged brow and the other more jagged scar on the underside of his chin.

"She is not going anywhere with you." Dorien gritted out through clenched teeth, canine incisors lengthening as rage swelled inside him. "It is because of you that she is in the state she is in."

The air was charged with male challenge, each male letting their power out in waves as they readied for a fight. The Darknar Laird's power scalded Dorien's skin like boiling water, growing hotter by the second until Dorien pushed out with his own and lashed out at the Darknar Laird like a whip. He managed to deflect the brunt of it but what had managed to land left a visible cut across the side of his neck.

A blood curdling growl rose in the Prince's throat as he readied his power to strike back, but before he could release it they were both hit with an instantaneous bolt of lightening, sending each crashing into a wall and holding them there. The King's dark laughter rang out, his black eyes glowing with a red sheen as he observed his handy work.

"Such power from ones so young." King Lyndstrom laughed heartily. "Takes me back to the days I sparred with you father, Lucus."

With a bone jarring thud, they both crashed to the floor as the King pulled his power away, but the threat of it remained like an enemy in their peripheral vision. "My son has informed me of his lack of control where Desari is concerned. Even now, he is most anxious to have her within his grasp where she should be. I acknowledge your distrust of my son...I would feel much the same if my sister had been harmed in that manner, but the fact still remains that she has been claimed by my son and that she is his true mate."

"I have taken control of the situation between your two clans, and I declare this war over. Your next focus is to rebuild what has been lost, and take both clans one. I have made my decision concerning this matter." The King approached Dorien slowly, his massive arms crossed about his chest as he contemplated him throughly. "I have appointed another Laird in charge of the Darknar clan and I have appointed you as the new Laird of SarVein. You will be meeting him shortly to discuss plans to rebuild. Desari will be going back to Banesrauld with my son, and I until they complete their bond. Then, if she chooses, she may travel back here to visit you at her leisure, but as my son's mate she will be flanked by the royal guard wherever she goes. She has a new set of responsibilities now, and she will uphold them from here on out."

The King then turned serious as his black eyes burned into his. "I give you my word, Dorien, that no harm will befall your sister in my son's care. She will be safe."

"Your son tried to wipe us out." Dorien stated angrily, his emerald gaze latching onto the Prince's as they sat across from each other. "There will be no way she would ever forget that. She loves her people to much to ever willingly tie herself to him. And what of the poisoned blades he has been using to destroy us?"

"Rivendale has been dealt with as per my orders. The poison was a ploy of his malice and has been destroyed permanently. To brew it once more will invite death upon whomever has done so. I can not account for why my son had been so harsh to your clan, and I do not claim to know his thoughts on the matter. All I know is that I have complete control of the situation now." The King replied darkly as he turned to regard his son. "He may have burned his own grave with her at this point, but we will never know until we try. Maybe she will surprise us by taking to this arrangement swiftly or she may even make my son suffer a while before allowing him his rights. If its the later it will be rather fun to watch, but I will definitely be taking Desari back to Banesrauld with me. My decision is final."

"He will fail." Dorien stated as he slowly rose to his feet at the same time as the Prince. "She will not bend to him."

The Prince remained deadly silent, his intent gaze never leaving Dorien's face until he suddenly looked beyond his shoulder to stare at something behind him.

"We are ready, My Liege." Came the disembodied voice of a hooded man behind him.

"Dorien, Dorien!" Sorben shouted angrily as he tried to fight the infallible grip of the two soldiers that held him. "You have to stop them! They're taking Desari!"

Dorien turned just in time to see the King's guard carry Desari's tiny form out on a stretcher. Her pale form barely moved as the four guards carrying her jostled her slightly. It took every ounce of restraint Dorien possessed not to run after her as he silently watched them carry her away.

"Dorien, what are you doing!" Sorben shouted angrily as he renewed his efforts of escape. "Go after them!"

"Enough!" With one word from the King, Sorben was successfully silenced. "Her fate rests with me now."

She is doomed. Dorien couldn't suppress the shudder that wracked him at the thought of his sister's future. He turned his gaze upon the Prince, taking in his dangerous form. There was no doubt in Dorien's mind that if Desari were to go against the Prince's wishes, she would lose. And in doing so...He will destroy her.

Part Two

Mine. The word and the emotion behind it were as foreign to Danyael as the sun was to a mole. He had never felt anything like it in all of his six hundred and fifty-two years. It was an all consuming urge to grasp her to him and hoard her away from the world. To demand that she want him and him alone...but with that possessiveness came jealousy.

Even as his rational mind countered that his father's soldiers were no threat and only meant to carry his mate to their camp, the uncivilized part of his mind howled to tear the bastards limb from limb.

"Control, Danyael." His father murmured as he placed his hand firmly upon his shoulder.

"He has none." The young whelp claiming to be his mate's brother, growled angrily.

Danyael gathered his power once more, intent to strike the idiot down when his father's lethal claws sank beyond the thick wool of his plaid. "Control, boy."

A rumbling growl escaped his throat as he once again locked eyes with the boy. Emerald eyes glared back defiantly in the face of Danyael's wrath. It was almost admirable to see one so small trying to exert their dominance over him...if he'd have been in a mind to he would have out right laughed at the boy.

"No, young Dorien, but I do." Danyael's father stated, irritation lacing the words. "My son will do no harm to her."

Before the stubborn brat was able to reply, another voice rang out. "Pretty words, Lyndstrom. I almost believe them."

Instead of the anger Danyael expected, a loud bark of rusty laughter escaped his father as he turned to see who had spoken.

"So, you are here, Conri, you demented bastard." His father laughed as he moved to clasp the hand of the old Lykae who had entered. He appeared to be well into his sixties, but as the wolf's scent reached him Danyael knew he was much older...he smelled nearly as old as his father.

"I've always been here." The old wolf, Conri, replied as he shook Danyael's father's hand. "I've even been here long enough to have seen the birth of the new Princess."

" I see your angle, old friend." His father laughed before moving a step back. "I suppose you don't trust my boy either."

Danyael watched the exchange silently, torn between being angry and curious. There was something so familiar about the man...almost as if he'd met him before.

"I don't care whether your son is trustworthy or not. My opinion will not sway you one way or the other." Conri replied, his sharp metallic gaze moving away from Danyael's father to reside on him. "I only came down here to caution you to be careful with the young lass. She's still in the throes of the fever and has not fully healed. Yes, she's healed the damage you wrought, but the poison is slowly leaving her system. I expect her to make a full recovery...given time. Give her the time she needs, boy, before you start making demands on her. You probably won't give her much considering she is your mate but consider how fragile she is right now. She almost died."

Conri's last sentence struck Danyael like a physical blow. The hard truth settling on his chest like dead weight. He'd known he'd hurt her badly, but he'd never even thought about how much. He'd only been thinking how angry he was at Rivendale's wrath when he'd scented her. She'd stood among the savagery of his soldiers like a warrior goddess, her long platinum hair blowing wildly in the breeze as her heavenly sky blue eyes scanned the area. At that very moment he knew that she belonged to him...and he wanted nothing more than to lay his kill at her feet.

He hadn't been expecting Rivendale to dare try and fight him and his temper had exploded into rage. He'd wanted nothing more than to tear the bastard limb from limb and he had. What Danyael hadn't expected was for Rivendale's dead body to go flying once he'd slashed him the last time. The bastard had landed perfectly on her feet.

Danyael then acted on instinct. He let his blood thirsty beast take over and marked her. He'd only meant to just break the skin but the second her fear the sweet taste of her blood hit his tongue...he was lost...

The only thing that had been able to pull him away was his second in command, Grayson, and he'd nearly had to tear the skin from Danyael's back to do it.

"I don't know why I'm bothering, really. You're to much like your damn father in that regard. He was the exact same way with your mother...he'd nearly killed her when he marked her too." Conri stated, his deep baritone voice becoming cold before he stated." But I care about that little girl. Her father had given her into my care just before he died and I've been watching over Lucus's family since then. I will not stand by and let you destroy her...I can let this once go, but if I ever hear of you hurting her again I'll kill you."

With that said, Conri turned away from them all and grabbed the brats arm to drag him along beside him. Even fighting like he was, the whelp was no match for the older Lykae's superior strength. His father's soldiers trailed behind, dragging the younger brother with them.

The matter had clearly been settled. Silence followed him until Danyael relented and asked the only question on his mind.

"Who is that old wolf?" Danyael looked to his father for answers and was shocked to see the toothy grin spreading across his face.

"Didn't you feel it, Danyael?" His father laughed as he moved toward his son, merriment dancing in his black eyes.

"Feel what?" Danyael asked, the confusion showing clearly on his face. He didn't know what surprised him more, the old wolf's threat or his father's curious mood.

"You know him."

"No I don't." Danyael replied, his eyes searching his father's face.

"Of course you do." His father laughed. "He's your uncle."