Seven Mates

The Gods Among The Mortals.

The streets overflowed with cheers as a golden, grand cart rolled through the heart of the city. Four majestic white horses, their hooves pulled it striking the ground with graceful rhythm. The cart glittered under the sun, covered in fine golden carvings and a royal vessel made for heroes.

Laughter and music filled the air. People danced and sang as they celebrated the return of the wolves.

The spearheads of their clans.

These were the warriors who had done the impossible: defeating the rogue army and the bloodthirsty vampires who had plagued them for years. Not even their own strongest fighters had succeeded… but these wolves had.

The crowd couldn’t hold their joy. They threw flower petals, floating lanterns, and colorful paper balls into the air. Balloons swirled above like blessings from the sky. Children screamed with happiness. Singers lifted their voices in praise. Wolves, humans, and even young pups all came together to honor their heroes.

And among those heroes stood one who caught every eye.

Seraphim Rhealm.

The quiet, radiant leader of the group. He was tall and slender, with snow-pale skin that shimmered under the golden light. His beauty was almost unreal. The delicate face of someone half his age, framed by soft white hair that flowed down his back like silk. A gentle bang fell across his forehead, swaying in the breeze.

Eyes like clouds heavy with rain. There was wisdom in them, and a strange softness when they met another’s gaze. People melted under that gaze. They looked at Seraphim as if he were hope.

Their salvation.

His nose had a slight point, and his smooth, youthful jaw completed the look. Though nearly in his late twenties, his face could have belonged to a sixteen-year-old prince. He wore a clean white long-sleeved shirt over his black trousers, with black sandals on his feet and a shining silver sword strapped to his side.

Seraphim leaned his elbow casually on the edge of the cart, his gaze lowered to the people below and his leg switching over to the other. He watched them with quiet wonder, almost as if he couldn’t believe their love was real.

Beside him stood Seraphina, his silent shadow, graceful and fierce. Together, they rode forward like gods among mortals, with their siblings behind them.

“They are cheering for us,” Seraphina muttered in awe. “I can't believe this.”

“Of course, they are, love.” Seraphim agreed with her, smiling.

Seraphim was like the soft light before a storm. Seraphina was a fire hidden behind a veil.

She had long raven-black hair that shimmered blue under the sun, tied in a thick braid that fell over one shoulder like a coiled rope of midnight. Her skin was smooth and fair, like porcelain kissed by morning light. It held a soft glow, almost ethereal, as if moonlight lived beneath it.

Seraphina's eyes were sharp, golden like melted metal, deep like an untouched well. She wore a deep red robe lined with black fur, light yet regal. It moved like water when she walked. Silver chains wrapped around her waist, holding tiny blades and charms passed down from her warrior mother. A long dagger rested on her hip.

As the cart rolled on, she stood tall, one hand resting lightly on her blade, the other brushing the side of the cart. Then, without a word, she moved closer to Seraphim and gently laid her head on his lap, stretching her legs across the seat beside him.

“Are you okay?” he asked and pulled down his hand on Seraphina's hair.

“Yes,” she murmured, her voice soft as silk. “I am well. I'm just tired.”

Seraphim's gaze lingered upon her, heavy with longing. The crowd’s cheer faded into a distant hum. A dangerous thought bloomed in his mind: to strip her bare, to claim her right here in the cart, heedless of the world beyond their golden wheels. His fingers drifted down the curve of her shoulder, a quiet caress, as he gazed upon her resting in his lap.

“I know what stirs in that wicked mind of yours,” she whispered, eyes fluttering open to meet him. “We ride before thousands. The cart is no place for your... passions. Do you wish them to hear the sounds we make?”

But Seraphim’s eyes, burning soft with want, paid her words no heed.

“Seraphim,” she spoke more firmly, lifting her head, her golden eyes searching for him. “Do you even hear me?”

Seraphim leaned a little and kissed her lips. Seraphina, who couldn’t endure it anymore, fell for him and kissed him back. They both sucked each other's tongues.

“Ahh…hmm…” Slurp. “Ahh, Seraphim.”

Seraphim pulled her closer with a sudden hunger, guiding her to straddle his lap. Her robe shifted as her legs fell on either side of his waist, and the space between them grew hot, breathless. She felt his hard boner and knew how rough he wanted her.

He dipped his head, his mouth finding the soft line of her throat, trailing kisses there as if he meant to claim her soul.

“Seraphim…” she moaned.

But before he could go further, a sharp voice cut through the thick veil of their moment.

“No way!”

The curtain of the cart snapped aside, and the youngest of the siblings popped his head through, his face a mixture of shock and disgust.

“In front of the entire kingdom? Are you serious?” Jeremy stared, blinking rapidly. “Couldn’t wait five more minutes for a room?”

Seraphim didn’t stop. His lips continued to press against Seraphina’s neck, his hands firm at her back as if the interruption barely reached him.

Seraphina turned her head toward the boy, her voice breathless but scolding. “Jeremy—”

“Don’t say my name like that,” he grimaced, recoiling. “That’s even worse. Ugh. I swear, not in the middle of a parade. People can hear things!” His palm slammed his forehead.

“He is the one who begins this… not I.”

“Then still his fire, Seraphina. We are soon to face the Vampire King. You do not want his guards scenting desire on your skin.”

Seraphim’s hands slid to her waist, gripping her tightly. The heat between them grew, his body aching with need.

“Seraphim, stop…” Seraphina breathed, her voice low. She was flustered, not ready for such things.

“What’s happening here?” Zephyr’s voice called out, stepping in beside Jeremy. At the sight, he glanced away. “We should head to the king’s palace,” he said calmly. “Save your fire for the night.”

The curtain fell back into place as Zephyr pulled Jeremy back.

“Hey! Don't push me like that,” Jeremy protested.

Inside the cart, silence lingered. Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse still racing. Seraphim only smiled faintly at what Zephyr did.

He was so cute. He thought.

“You should learn to sit still,” Morgana said softly, watching as Jeremy’s butt bumped the seat beside her. “Your voice is sharp and loud, like a hawk’s cry,” she teased.

Jeremy grinned, quick to fire back. “And yours is small and meek, like an ostrich whisper.”

“Spare me the poetry, both of you,” came a tired voice. “Save your words for the moonlight and be quiet.”

“She’s the one who started it!” Jeremy pointed a finger with a mock accusation.

“He is!” Morgana shot back, pointing just as fiercely. “You are the one who started it.”