Chapter 7
Chapter seven
With the Manor’s annual Halloween festival in full swing, anxiety had become Luka’s constant companion.
Every day, more people flooded onto the grounds, arriving in flashy carriages and fancy clothes. The extra bodies didn’t bother him. It was the waiting.
According to Ruger, the rest of the musical group had arrived on schedule, but Castor—or Envy as he went by now—hadn’t been among them.
For a moment, he had allowed himself to hope that meant the mystic had changed his mind about attending the party. Deep down, however, he knew better. Castor craved attention and adoration too much to resist making an appearance.
Perched on the second-floor railing that overlooked the lobby, he kept one eye on his mate and the other on the heavy double doors at the entrance. He had received a few strange looks from the other guests, but a silent glare or quiet growl had been enough to move them along.
Sure, he could have achieved the same goal from the cafe or the sitting area beneath the chandelier, but he preferred the vantage point of the upper floor. From there, he could see everything from the welcome desks to the bank of elevators without needing to turn his head.
While he had decided to dislike the Celeste brothers on principle since they had caused his mate so much trouble, he couldn’t deny Aether and Ivy certainly had talent. Only a few days ago, the space had been lavish but otherwise ordinary.
Then, seemingly overnight, it had been transformed into a moody, haunted library, complete with floating books that wailed at passersby. He had been somewhat disappointed by the lack of volcanoes with purple lava, but Ruger had been pleased with the new direction.
The décor wasn’t the only thing that had changed, either. The entire Manor seemed to thrum with a restless energy that set Luka’s nerves on edge.
The corridors now flickered with dim candlelight and shifting shadows, and every corner had been transformed into a tableau of ghostly imagery. Cobwebs draped from gilded frames filled with spectral figures. Enchanted spiders the size of his fist skittered up the walls and across the ceiling.
Gods, he hated spiders.
The faint scent of leather and musty book pages filled the air. Though sometimes, when the doors opened and the breeze shifted, he caught the aroma of brewed coffee and warm sugar.
Laughter pealed through the castle, sometimes bright, sometimes edged with something wild. Every so often, though, a hush would fall over the crowd as if everyone sensed the approach of something significant.
Near the grand staircase, a ghostly quartet played eerie melodies on violins and flutes, their music weaving in and out of whispered conversations and nervous giggles.
He watched as gazes flickered to the entrance, searching for late arrivals. Snippets of rumors reached his ears, drifting on the wind like autumn leaves as fans of Midnight Magic whispered among themselves.
When would the famous Envy Castille finally make his grand entrance?
The anticipation built, pressing in on him from all side. It felt almost tangible, like a living thing that curled around the banisters and clung to the velvet drapes, waiting—like him—for the moment when everything changed.
Suddenly, the bands on his wrists started to flicker, the light pulsing to the beat of his heart. Every curving line of the intricate pattern expanded and contracted, as if the magic that bound him had awoken from slumber to take a deep breath.
“Luka?” Ruger’s voice drifted into his mind, cutting through the distractions.
Luka scanned the lobby, easily finding his mate in the throng. Standing near the windows, he looked striking in his soft gray sweater and black pants, but those amber eyes remained clouded with worry.
“Do you feel it?” he asked. “Something is coming.”
“Or someone.”
While every part of him wanted to be as far away from Blackhaven Manor as possible when that happened, he gripped the railing tighter and forced himself to stay. If he asked, he knew Ruger would leave with him, but he didn’t want that kind of life for the male.
Always running. Always looking over their shoulders. Existing but never really living.
Ruger deserved better, and for once, he was starting to think that maybe he did too.
Then it happened.
The front doors of the castle parted with a nearly silent groan, and a cold wind rushed inside, carrying a scent that sent a shiver of dread down his back. Although centuries removed, he would recognize that distinct signature anywhere.
Sunlight spilled across the threshold and gleamed over the tilted floor, the sheen interrupted only by the shadow that darkened the doorway.
“That’s him,” Ruger whispered through their bond.
But Luka already knew. Castor hadn’t changed at all, his appearance exactly the same as it had been the day he’d cursed him.
Tall and lean with broad shoulders and a muscular chest. Fiery red hair streaked with gold that fell to his waist and brushed against his hips. An easy smile on his lips, arrogant yet somehow charming in equal measure.
He paused just inside the lobby and lifted his head, his movements deliberate and unhurried. His gaze cut across the distance, and eyes the color of polished sapphire locked on Luka, stealing his breath and making his heart seize.
The moment stretched out into what felt like a lifetime, the weight of his stare holding Luka immobile better than any shackles ever could.
Castor smirked, an acknowledgment of the control he still exerted over him. Point made, he turned away and strode into the crowd, greeting the fans that swarmed around him like long-time friends.
“Luka?”
Gods, he hated the note of uncertainty in his mate’s voice. Even more, it killed him that he could offer nothing in the way of comfort or reassurance.
He had failed in every way that mattered, but it wasn’t a mistake he planned to make again.
The encounter had shaken him more than he had expected, but he didn’t retreat. Not yet. He needed to sit in that discomfort and accept it if he hoped to face the male again in the future.
He watched Castor, tracking him as he made his way across the room. Only when he had disappeared from sight did Luka finally unclench and allow himself to relax.
Locating an empty space in the crowd below, he leapt from his perch and sailed to the floor, landing in the lobby with a slight bend of his knees.
“We should go,” Ruger said as he rushed over to meet him. “Right now.”
He dipped his head in agreement, but not because he was afraid. Rather, his failure to act had highlighted an important and uncomfortable truth. His disadvantage had been coming at the situation from a place of emotion rather than logic. For now, he needed to focus and regroup.
Because the next time they met, he wouldn’t hesitate.
Neither of them spoke as they made their way from the castle and down the grassy slope to the lake. Rather than their usual companionable silence, however, this time, the quiet was filled with tension and doubt.
“Are you okay?” Ruger asked when they entered the cabin.
“Yes.” No. He didn’t know.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“There is nothing to say.”
Pausing just beyond the door, Ruger turned and took his hands, clutching them tightly and brushing kisses over his fingers. “You know you don’t have to face this alone, right?”
But he did. “This is my burden to bear.”
“Then let me bear it with you.”
Luka shook his head. “I cannot ask that.”
“You’re my mate,” Ruger insisted. “You don’t have to ask. Just tell me what you need.”
He needed Ruger to be safe. He needed him to be happy. Beyond that, he had no right to request anything from him. Not when he had brought nothing but turmoil to the shifter’s life.
“That’s not true.” There was a hard edge to Ruger’s voice now, and his eyes flashed with irritation. “None of this is your fault, and I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions. If you don’t want my help, fine, but don’t pretend to know what’s best for me.”
“You must admit, your life was easier before you met me.”
“Easier? Maybe.” Ruger shrugged, a halted, jerky movement. “Better, though? Not even close.”
“Why are you so angry?” He didn’t think he had said anything offensive or untrue.
“Because I love you, and you keep pushing me away.”
“I do not—” The words died on his tongue, and a knot formed in his throat as the words registered. His heart crashed against his ribs, fast and painful, and a tremor rippled through him as the weight of the confession settled over him.
“You love me?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
Honestly, a little. For so long, he had believed himself incapable of being loved. Yet, with Ruger, so many things felt possible now.
“I love you, too, taavi. More than anything. Which is why I need you to be safe.”
“I can be safe and still help you.” He shuffled closer, molding himself against Luka’s chest. “This is where I belong. Don’t push me away.”
He should. If he had any wits about him, he would. But he couldn’t do it. He needed his mate too much.
“The gods forgive me.”
Lowering his head, he brought their lips together, slow and tender, pouring every ounce of love and need into the kiss that he couldn’t put into words. Their tongues met and twined, sliding together in a familiar rhythm that both soothed and ignited.
Desire burned through his veins, searing him from the inside out, but he kept his touch gentle, reverent.
When the kiss found its natural conclusion, they didn’t pull apart. Instead, they held to each other, to the moment, and to the possibilities of what came next.
“Does this mean you’ll let me help you?” Ruger asked.
Luka swallowed thickly and nodded. He just prayed that he didn’t end up regretting it.