Page 1 of Crescent Warrior

CHAPTER ONE

Cole Lykourgos sat in front of the bank of screens, legs spread indolently as he stared at one in particular.

Sparring day is the best.

He chuckled low in his throat as his cousin Xander was flipped to his back again and given a stiff reprimand for not focusing. Cole swiped a finger down the screen, over the face of Xander’s opponent, the ache in his heart throbbing as it usually did. It was like this since they were children. He rubbed his chest over the organ he found utterly useless for anything but pain.

As Xander stood, side-stepping the female he was fighting, and slapping her on the ass, with a jovial expression on his stupid face, Cole stiffened. He found himself immediately sitting upright, a growl escaping his throat.

Get your fucking hands off what’s mine, asshole.

Cousin or not, Cole would rip Xander’s head off if he needed to. He shouldn’t have worried, though. Within seconds, the male was flat on his stomach, his arm twisted behind his back, and curled painfully as his opponent’s knee dug deeply into one of his kidneys. Cole snorted out a laugh, his body relaxing once more.

He lifted a forkful of his dinner to his mouth, but just as soon dropped it back to his plate. His female was helping Xander up, giving him a huge smile. A smile that should only belong to Cole.

Lifting the plate to throw across the room, he barely checked himself. His Aunt Penelope would not be amused to find another one of her precious porcelain plates broken. Especially after she brought it to him herself, out of worry that he wasn’t eating enough.

Of course I’m not fucking eating enough. My heart is across the ocean, smiling at another male.

Gently putting the plate down on the table, Cole stared hungrily at the screen, hoping there was another spar session lined up. He knew he was supposed to be monitoring the surrounding areas of their Minnesota compound for the Werewolf that no one could sense—the one they called Other—but when his mate was on the screen, he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

As Selene, their new queen, bounced up to the mat, Cole’s eyebrows winged up.

This is new.

When Selene and Damen were first mated, there was a massive attack of Bloodthirsty on their compound. In fact, it was during this attack that Selene was transformed into a Werewolf. Damen saved her life and in doing so, preserved his own, since he couldn’t live without his mate.

Cole understood the need for Selene to learn to defend herself, but until now, their queen usually only learned basic self-defense and had no reason to be anywhere near the grappling mat. His eyes stayed on his mate, though, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as she yanked off her wet t-shirt, clad in only a sports-bra.

Sparring day is the fucking best.

One hand went to his suddenly straining cock, pressing hard to restrain it. If he couldn’t have her, he wasn’t going to use an image of her to get his rocks off. Especially not without her permission. His subconscious did that enough in his sleep.

The subtle rap on the door made him grit his teeth with annoyance as he ignored it. He had very little time to himself, and when he did, he spied on his mate. Everyone else should be able to find something to occupy themselves with for fifteen minutes, he was sure.

Mealtime between him and his female was sacred. Always. Even now, when she barely spoke to him.

Ignoring the disturbance didn’t seem to be working, though. The knock became louder and more impatient. He knew who was on the other side, his uncle’s scent permeating his nose. Whatever it was, it could wait for five more fucking minutes.

Watching his gorgeous mate adjust the queen’s stance, he rested his chin on his fist. The creak of the door made him scowl.

Shit. Forgot to lock it.

“Cole,” his Uncle Castor called from the doorway. “News from the king.”

Cole grunted, keeping his eyes trained on his mate’s lithe figure. From this angle, his uncle would think he was watching the forest.

His mate demonstrated a simple arm-hold for the queen, making him remember all the times they trained together. She had kicked his ass every time. She was a vicious warrior, battle-hardened and ready to take down any opponent.

Gods, to be pinned under her body again, her breasts above my face.

The shudder that ran through him was purely sexual.

“The pack is coming,” Castor called, amusement in his voice.

Cole stiffened, turning his head to stare incredulously at his uncle. The smirk that he received could only be called smug.

“Next week.”

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