Shadow Wolf

years. Five or six, I think.”
“Five. I was a few weeks in before I came here. It was made clear to me by Vrost that my time here would not be counted.” But, as soon as he reached New York soil, he would certainly be counting down to the last second until it was over. The reason he didn’t mind going back was that the sooner he could start his service to the New York clan, the sooner he could finish it.
“So, why the move?” the king repeated. “What did Vrost offer you that your original clan could not?”
Delacroix pursed his lips, wondering what was the most diplomatic way he could tell the monarch to mind his own business.
“Darling.” Queen Desiree placed a hand on his chest. “I think we’ve asked enough questions. How about we head back to our apartments, and we can have coffee until Caspar wakes up after his nap?” Keen light green eyes turned to Delacroix. “Can you meet me at the eastern doors at half past two? I’ll need you to accompany me to my meeting at the university.”
The tightness in his chest eased, and he was grateful to the queen for not making him reveal any more about his past. He had already revealed more to her than he had to anyone, and it was vital no one knew about his life before now. About the things he’d done. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
“Are you coming back with us?” King Karim asked with a cock of his head.
“I shall follow, Your Majesty. I would like to enjoy the desert air for a few more moments.”
The king’s brows knitted together, but he said nothing as he led his wife and child back into the palace.
Delacroix turned around, turning his face up to the bright burning sun. Yes, he would miss this place. In the short time he’d been here, he’d become comfortable living in Zhobghadi. It was far removed from anything he’d known, and if anyone had told him that his life would be this way a few years ago, he wouldn’t have believed them.
But this place wasn’t home. He couldn’t even dare dream of it as such, or any place, really. The bayou wasn’t home, and New York would never be home. New York was a way out. Many Lycans would have given their right arm to have been given an opportunity to be part of a powerful clan, but as soon as he was freed from his obligation, he would leave and become a Lone Wolf.
Not many Lycans could keep up with such a lifestyle—not having a permanent place to live or a clan to support them, constantly trying to pass as human. But the Lone Wolf life had something no clan could give him—freedom. The freedom to do what he pleased, when he pleased. Because he’d rather die than be under the thumb of any Alpha. Never again. And his wolf agreed wholeheartedly.
It didn’t take too long for Delacroix and Jacob to settle their affairs in Zhobghadi. While they had been integrated into life at the palace, there was no one either would consider a close friend. They were well-acquainted with the Almoravid, the elite superhuman guards who protected the royal family having been training with them, but the language barrier made it difficult to make friends.
There were two people that had been difficult to say goodbye to. The first was Princess Amaya, King Karim’s young sister. The princess had been distraught as he and Jacob watched over her as closely as they did the queen. She had come to think of them as “her” bodyguards and friends too. She had cried when she heard the news and even begged them to stay, but eventually, she had accepted it, though only because Queen Desiree promised to bring her to New York for a visit soon.
The second person was Ramin, King Karim’s ward, whom the two Lycans had taken under their wing. The young man was strong and ambitious and was determined to join the ranks of the Almoravid someday. He and Jacob had trained the eager young man, and Delacroix could already tell that he would achieve his goal and maybe even become captain of the guard. Ramin took the news of their impending departure well, thanking them both for the additional training and sparring that would surely help him within the coming months as he prepared for his exams.
There was a small, private feast in their honor the night before they left. The captain of the Almoravid had been there, as well as most of the palace staff that they worked with. There was much feasting and drinking, and during the after party, he had rebuffed the advances of a particular amorous and drunk handmaiden who tried to put her hands down his pants. Jacob had merely shaken his head and laughed at him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like women or sex. Once upon a time, he was up to his ears in willing women. And although he still enjoyed the flirting and attention, since he left Pont Saint-Louis, he kept his focus razor sharp on his eventual goal of freedom. Sure, he’d let Nick Vrost and the other Lycans think he was some kind of flirt, but the truth was, he hadn’t been with a woman for more than a year. Being considered a shallow man whore was just one more way he could blend into the background—stay out of sight, unimportant, and serve his time until he could gain what he wanted most. Sex and women were too messy, and there was a danger to forming an attachment that could distract him.
“You okay, man?” Jacob asked.
Jolted out of his thoughts, he turned to his companion. “Oui, mon ami.”
“We’re about to land.” The young man clicked his seatbelt on. “I can’t believe we’ll be landing in New York in a couple of minutes. Man, I’m going to miss living like this.” His hands gripped the soft, buttery leather