Prolouge

Early Spring, 1908

The Vladmir Mansion deep in the woods of Vermont.

Lance Vladmir stood before his father, York Vladmir, and the other nine members of the council. To his left was his younger brother, Phelan. He was here, hopeful in his mission. He wanted the fueding between his brother and himself to end. His father stared at the two of them. He too wanted the fueding to end. He noticed the soft sigh that his old body gave before saying, "You wanted to address the council, Lance. You have us, and your brother, gathered. What is it that you wish to say?"

Lance stepped forward, knelt before the council, and then raised to meet their stares. "I wish this fueding to end," he said loudly so that his brother was sure to hear him. "I am the eldest of your sons, father. And because I'm the eldest, I have tried to live as you have, so that when it is my turn to sit upon the council, I can do so fairly." A low challenging growl came from his brother. He contiuned. "For many centuries now, we have lived in hiding of the world. Our kind has only hunted animals of the forest," he gave a look to his brother and finished with a firm, "until now." He turned back to the council. "Phelan has walked outside of our bounds and have starting taking humans for food. He is young still, only one hundred, but still there needs to be order. I feel that he does this to gain your attention father. And if that is the case, then I shall leave so that he has your full attention."

The council whispered lowly amoungst itself as Lance contiuned. "By my leaving, that will leave only three of your ten sons here. Only I and Sven are older than he, and Sven's life has already gone. The others are younger than Phelan and pose no threat to his rising to the position of council. But I make it clear now, that once your time nears, I will return to take your place, and it will be he that leaves. I will take your place on the council as it should be." He then bowed and stepped back.

The council leaned forward and began to once again whisper amoungst itself. Leaning back, York looked at his two sons. "The council grants your reguest to leave," he said. "And when the time comes, you will be called for. Now go live your life, my son. Find yourself a loving mate to bare your sons. You will be called back to take your place here."

Chapter One

Early Summer 2008

Lance sat in his over sized recliner and flipped through the days mail. The usual bills and junk mail made up the majority of it, but he sat dead still when he seen the old fashion hand writting on the old fashion envelope. There was no need in looking at the return address, he knew who it was from. Turning it over, he saw the waxed stamped seal, sealing the letter closed and confirming that it was indeed from his father. He didn't have to read it to know what it said. The time had finally come for him to return home; to return to Vermont and take his father's place on the council.

Lance opened the letter and read his father's shaky hand writting. York talked of his time coming to an end and that it was time for him, Lance, to return home. He also wrote that Phelan hadn't changed in the past hundred years and still held a grudge towards him. He warned his eldest son that a battle would rage between his two sons and that the winner would take his place. But until that battle was fought, he wished to see his son.

Lance set his father's letter aside and began to write a letter of his own. One to the woman he had taken for a mate. She was at work now and would be home until after he had left. Time was important now and he must hurry to reach his father in time. He wouldn't be able to take her with him. Not now anyway. Even if he did take her now, he would fear for her life. He would continue to fear for it until Phelan was completely gone. He knew what he had to do. He had to finish off his brother. Not only for protection of the woman he loved, but for the progression of the pack.

Lance thought of Anastasia as he packed. She knew of his long past; of who and what he was. Even upon learning of his lycan heritage, she had held up like a rock. She had allowed him the freedom he needed and had never crowded him. And she had given herself so freely to him. Even now he thought of her beautiful body; her long light brown hair and eyes, perfect breasts, and long shapely legs and body. He longed to take her with him; to warm his bed at night, but above all, to calm him. Her touch could calm the beast in him quicker than anything. He knew that his confrontation with his brother would bring about the wolf in him and he would need her calmingness. He would just have to think of her and hope that that would be enough.

Anastasia Rhodes called out Lance's name as she entered their apartment. It wasn't unusal for her to arrive before him, so she thought nothing of him not answering. She found the letter on the table and sat down somberly to read. She knew this day was coming. He had told her of his past and what would happen when his father passed away, but she had thought that it would be sometime before that happened. She sighed heavily as she thought about having to spend time alone. She didn't know how long it would be before he sent for her, but she couldn't wait to her from him either. She laid her head on the table and began to cry for herself.

A month had passed since Lance had left and Anatasia had decided to go to the Valdmir mansion in Vermont. She packed a good supply of clothes and headed off. It took her most of the day to reach Burlington, but by nightfall, and a few wrong turns, she reached the mansion. The large house was just as Lance had described it. The old mansion was definately something out of a dream. But above all, she was glad that she had waited until the full moon had passed. She knew that Lance would not harm her once he had shifted, but his family didn't know her and could see her as a threat.

Anatasia pulled her car up to the front of the house. The large door was answered after the thrid ring. A young man who resembled Lance greatly answered the door. She noted how he smelled her scent and yet continued to look straight at her. "Is this the Valdmir residence," she asked. "Yes," the man, whom she would have guessed about twenty-five, but knew better, answered. "I'm looking for Lance," she said. "You must be Anatasia," he said as he stepped aside.

Anatasia walked behind the man as he led the way. He showed her into a large study before excusing himself. The study was so large, it could have been partention off into at least five rooms. She looked about the room and took in the large amounts of photos hanging on the wall. There were so many to look at; each with a small gold or silver name plate denoting the persons name and age on each one. She noted that half a dozen or more of them were of Lance. They all were in painting form and began with him as a small child. She noted the dates on each of them. They were about fifty years apart each. She smiled at them. The last one done was nearly a hundred years old. She smiled at herself as she realized that of course there wouldn't be a newer one, he had left here a hundred years ago.

Anatasia turned when she heard a male clearing his throat. She smiled at the man who had showed her in and the much older man he was leading in. "Anatasia, this is our father, York," the younger said. She smiled at the older man. She now knew what Lance would look like when he reached five hundred. But it also saddened her because she would long be gone when he reached that age. He was now three hundred and look as if he was maybe thirty; while she was actually twenty. "So you are my eldest sons mate," the older man said. "It is a great pleasure to meet you."

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