Vargar Series

MAGNUS

“Are you seriously expecting me to leave my pack to accompany you to that stupid mating hunt, min kung?” I hiss.

When Sigvard, the alpha king and my cousin, called me to the royal palace, I thought it was for some urgent business regarding the werewolf community, not a stupid idea of him being a matchmaker.

“First of all, don’t give me that Swedish irony,” Sigvard says in English, always preferring his mother’s tongue. “I had enough of it from my own father. Second, it’s not stupid. And last, I need you there for protection.”

Being the alpha king’s cousin is supposed to be a perk. So far in my life, it has only been a pain in the ass.

He has summoned me to the palace—again—with a ridiculous request—again—and he is currently chilling out on the sofa in his vast room like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“You will have your guards,” I try.

“I’ve had my guards all the other four times you saved my life.”

“Five,” I mutter through tight teeth.

“Five. See my point?”

“If you were not this insufferable, maybe people would stop wanting you dead.”

“Nonsense. I’m adorable.”

“I can’t leave my pack to travel across the ocean right now.”

“On the contrary, dear cousin.” He smiles at me. “Now is the perfect opportunity.”

“Perfect? You know what I’m dealing with.”

“I do. And I think coming to the mating hunt will mean a way out of your predicament.”

I scowl. If this man is suggesting what I think he’s suggesting, I’m going to kick his ass. His very royal ass.

Even if I have to face the wrath of the whole werewolf community and the haunting of my late uncle.

But all I do is go to the bar that for some reason Sigvard has in his room and grab a bottle of vodka. I pour a glass and down it straight away before I pour some more.

If I can’t kick His Highness’s ass, I can at least drink the overpriced Belvedere bottle he has here.

“Magnus, I don’t think that that is a solution to your problems. What you need—”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I need!” I turn and pin him with my look.

I’ve had it with people assuming what I need or not. I’ve had it with their ideas and judgment or sympathy and all that other shit. They should just leave me alone and mind their own fucking business.

“Magnus.” Sigvard stands and comes to me. “You need a luna, the other half of your administration. You are faltering, and others can see that.

“Alpha Gunnar is ready to rally the Rött Blod Pack and make a move on your territory and challenge your fitness to be an alpha. Prove them all wrong. Come with me to the mating hunt.”

“I don’t need a luna!” I drink the vodka and pour more. “I need to go after Gunnar and slit his throat, tear his spine out of his body, and feed on his heart. Then we’ll see if anyone else questions my authority.

“And to do that, I need to be with my pack, not going on some stupid trip with you, looking for someone that is not there.”

Sigvard regards me seriously and takes a deep breath. He is far too young for this position, even by werewolf standards, but after his father’s death, the weight fell on his shoulder.

And so far, despite the thousand attempts to get him off the throne, he is doing well.

“Listen, Magnus…”

“No, Sigvard! Plus, I don’t see you looking around for our future queen.”

“It’s not that easy.” His look darkens.

I know it’s not easy. Everyone else can go off and have a normal relationship with their destined mates without anyone questioning it.

Not the alpha king. His mate is not just any female, she will be the luna queen. And it’s tradition for that position to be dictated by politics rather than sentiment or fate.

“Deal with your problems, cousin, and let me handle mine.” I am halfway through the bottle.

“Well, you leave me no choice.” Sigvard smirks. “I command you to come to the mating hunt.”

“Oh no you don’t, you—”

“Magnus!”

He has used all the force of his alpha voice on me, a thousand times more powerful than my own. Though I share his royal blood, I am nothing close to his strength. Even my wolf cowers at his power.

Sigvard may look like an easygoing person, with his sandy blond hair and clear blue eyes, but he is still the alpha king. And the king has just commanded me.

All that is left for me to do is bow my head and accept his order.

“Ja, min Kung.”

***

Days later, I’m in my private jet, heading for somewhere in North America to attend their annual mating hunt.

Such a waste of time.

Now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, I know why my cousin is forcing me to attend, and I don’t like it one bit.

He thinks what everybody else does. That I’m going off the rails, that I’m slipping, and so is the control I have over my pack.

That I need a luna to keep me balanced and focused and to help decompress all the anger I harbor inside.

At the thought, I grab a small bottle from the cabinet beside me and down the vodka in one gulp.

It would be so much fucking easier if I wasn’t an alpha and of royal blood. The alcohol would have a much greater effect on me; I would feel number than I do before my healing power kicks in.

I need to feel numb. I need to forget at some point, to stop the crippling fear that gets to me. A fear a male like me should never feel.

I have charged into the midst of battle without a second thought. I have fought again and again against enemies others wept to face.

But thinking about the loneliness my future holds…terrifies me.

“Alpha, vi landar om två timmar.” Thane, a warrior that I chose to bring along, informs me that we will be landing in two hours.

I nod to him, though I’m irritated by his happy face. He, for one, is anxious to go to the mating hunt.

He has been looking for his mate ever since he came of age, but still no luck. He hopes he can find her in this mating hunt over the ocean.

I hope he does too, because his overflowing testosterone is getting on my nerves and is damaging his focus.

I train my warriors to be aggressive. We are not just any pack.

We are the first line of defense against the rogues who were pushed north into the ice, and the guards of the alpha king’s palace, which is to our western border.

Everyone trains in my pack. And all that aggression makes them possessive. They need a mate to relieve the anger, the rage. To balance them out.

“Du också,” my wolf, Henrar, comments.

Me too, that’s what he thinks.

He is another excited about the prospect of finding someone to lead along with us. To be with us, to protect and care for us.

It’s in his nature. And he is getting even more annoying than Thane, bugging me to find a mate, for him to meet her wolf and bond with her.

I huff at his comment and dive back into the paperwork I’ve brought along with me to keep me busy.

Deep down I know that what my cousin and my wolf hope will not happen. I will not find my mate here or anywhere in the world.

The Goddess will not have granted me one. I am cursed to be alone. And go crazy at some point, like everyone thinks I will.