Witches, Wolves, & Warlords (Shifters of Bastion Keep #1)

Chapter Nine

Sergiy sat in the Great Hall, poking his way through a late breakfast. It was Saturday morning, a rest day for his pack. He knew several were taking advantage of the lull that immediately followed an incursion to spend a few days visiting family, or hitting the books for higher education—no guardian planned to be at Bastion forever, his own family excepted.

In his chest, he could feel the presence of his mate, an increasingly insistent tugging. He tried to put it out of his mind, and focused on his food.

It wasn't very palatable, though. Being Saturday, breakfast was served upon request rather than made whole batch, and off of the menu he'd asked for bacon, eggs, and a cinnamon roll. Leona herself had delivered his plate to him, banging it down on the table. Somehow, the bacon had ended up soggy, the eggs looked and smelled strongly of char, and the cinnamon roll was mostly stale with half the icing scraped away. At least the tepid water was drinkable.

He'd have to ask her what he did to get on her bad side.

Marka and Markos emerged from the kitchen, taking seats next to him. Their own food smelled divine, and they each had a cinnamon roll that looked fresh, plump, and smothered in home-made cream cheese frosting.

Marka leaned forward, using her fork to poke at his own roll. "Poor brother. I think Leona let her granddaughter make your breakfast today."

"Tami already knows how to make four-star gourmet meals."

Markos shook his head. "Not Tami. Pommy. I think she just turned four a few months back?"

Sergiy sighed, then pushed his plate away.

"I take it that things aren't going well on the whole mate front?"

"He's avoiding me."

"Is he, though?" Markos said, putting his chin on his fist and looking at their sister. "Marka, how many times has Ser talked to the witch since his confession?"

"Zero, by my count."

"And how has our dear brother tried to approach him?

Marka began counting off on her fingers. "Well, on Wednesday he became more and more distracted trying to train the pack, which resulted in him getting hit on the head and needing a visit to Teresa, and then spent the rest of the day sulking in his room. Then on Thursday, he spent four hours here in the Great Hall in the morning, waiting for the witch to appear…"

"Pointlessly, because the witch slept in until noon, which anyone who wisely spoke to Roland would have known, as he would have been told that all three witches stayed up until almost dawn doing coven moon magic."

"Mmhmm. Unless of course, Roland himself is giving you the cold shoulder for some unknown reason."

Sergiy gestured wildly. "Yes, that! He's been curt to me the last few days."

"Probably for the same reason that Leona is."

"Which is…"

Markos shrugged. "Think on it. I'm sure a clever warlord can figure it out. But back to our brother's mate. Which day were we on again?"

Marka nodded. "Friday, of course. Yesterday, the witch was out doing one of the medium-length anchor walks. Six hours, nearly!"

"Exactly right, sister of mine. Six hours outdoors, on a planned out walk, perfect for a chat. Especially for any paramour who is willing to run, fly, or drive the trail to get to him."

"I didn't want to disturb them. And isn't the mate supposed to come to me?"

"Says who?" Markos said.

"Says… says…"

Marka shook her head. "No. Maybe you're too young to remember the stories—"

"You're only a year older than me!"

Marka just shook her head, grinning.

"—but Grandma said that she'd glimpsed Grandpa as he'd been leaving on a train when her mate instincts kicked in, and she had to hunt for him for weeks before she found him. And then after that, she still thought to win him over. And Big Bad didn't wed Little Red in a day, he followed her for months, and rescued her thrice from nefarious ne'er do-wells before she let him taste the goodies in her basket. You've read those stories dozens of times, you should know this."

"In other words, brother, you're being a dingus. Stop being a dingus, and show him why you're Lord of the castle, and why you're fated to be together."

Sergiy drummed his fingers on the table. "And this will also stop Leona from sabotaging my food?"

"Nope, that's a separate issue. But it'll help quiet your screaming instincts."

Marka put her hand on his. "How's your head and heart, by the way."

"Tolerable," he lied.

It wasn't. He felt as if there was an inferno in his chest at all times, pressuring him to find out where the witch was at. It did not like the fact that they were not yet reconciled, which didn't help with his own inner turmoil.

Marka and Markos looked at each other, then stood up from their benches and came up on either side of him, sniffing around. He tried shooing them off, but they ignored his half-hearted shoving.

"Sergiy, go shower," Markos said. "You smell like sweat and stress."

"And then put on pants, not a kilt, and then that sleeveless tunic of yours, the nice one made of silk that has the golden accents."

Markos raised a hand when he tried to speak. "You need help. We're helping."

"Go," Marka said, returning to her food. She broke her cinnamon roll apart, then gave him half. "Come back here right after."

He sighed, looking between his siblings. Not for the first time, he wished he were a wolf so he could more easily smell what they were feeling, but fate had seen fit to do otherwise. He only got vague impressions. His drake-self had its own special senses, true, but they were only of real use on the battlefield.

He went to do as he'd been directed by his siblings, munching on the pastry that he shoved whole into his mouth

He jogged upstairs to the third floor where he had his quarters. His modest sitting room, with couches and a rarely used television. Then several adjoining rooms,including a study, a sunroom where he did his painting, and his bedroom. Going through his bedroom to the master bath, he bypassed the porcelain tub and stepped into the open shower.

When his mate moved in, he'd need places for his things. The witch did a lot of Earth and Crystal charms, right? That meant plants and such. He could share his painting room, he supposed, split it in half so they each had space.

Sergiy took a quick shower, shaved, then donned clothes as he'd been told. A dark pair of pants with just enough stretch in them that he could perform a high kick or play games at the arcade without ripping, then the shirt, socks, and one of his more lordly pairs of shoes, in that they were shoes rather than sneakers.

Markos gave polite applause when he returned, and he tugged at the bottom of his shirt.

"I'm dressed.So?"

"Now, we go see the witch."

Markos stood from the table and headed towards the Sage's Quarter, with Marka falling in behind them as if to cut off any escape.

"Your problem, little brother, is that you've been treating him like an object and not a whole person. He's more than just your mate. You need to find out why he's your mate. What makes Bruin from Chicago an ideal person to be with?"

"It's certainly not his stature," he muttered, and the twins froze.

"Brother," Marka growled, halfway shifting into her werewolf form. "If you weren't wearing your nice shirt, I'd bounce you off the wall, then carry you to the closest mud patch and drown you in it."

Markos shrugged. "If muscles are all that matter to you, there's plenty of men in the keep and in Town that fit the bill."

"It's not that!" He took a step forward, glaring right back up at his brother. "My life is all about doing my duty for Bastion. Training the guardians. Handling incursions. Fighting an endless war! I just thought, I'd always imagined… "

"Ah, brother." Markos grabbed the back of his neck, massaging it. "You thought you would end up with a husband who could join you in the field."

"Yes."

"Especially a promised mate."

"Yes! Why ? I've watched him, and listened to what the other guardians say. He jokes, he makes ribald, sassy comments, he tries to pet everyone , like, like…"

"Like we're a bunch of good puppers?" Marka teased.

"Which we all absolutely are," Markos added.

Sergiy shook his head, not rising to the bait. "But he doesn't seem like a warrior. He's kindhearted, and gentle. More like—"

Sergiy shut his mouth, but he noticed the other two exchange a look.

"Come on, we're nearly there," Markos said, and proceeded to head up to the second floor where the witches lived. As did Russ.

He noticed Bruin's and Rosemary's doors were both cracked open. Maybe a sign of open invitation?

Markos looked back at him, adjusted the shoulder of his shirt, then turned back to the Green witch's door and politely knocked on it.

He heard the sound of crystals clacking together, and a moment later his mate appeared, wearing only a pair of tattered shorts as apparently he was wont to do. The witch had a cheerful expression on his face, which became increasingly amused as he noticed the three of them together.

The flame in his chest flared at the sight of him, but then quieted as if allowing him to focus.

"Good morning, Bruin." Markos said. "You are looking well today."

"And you! Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Both, in a sense. I noticed that you havn't yet made the trip to Town for your supplies. So, my sometimes idiotic brother—"

He growled warningly.

"—has something he wants to ask you. Ser?"

Why was this so hard? Right. Lordly mein. Show the witch who and what you were.

"Good morning to you, Green wit— Bruin . Bruin. If you are interested, I would be delighted to take you down to the local occult shop, and then show you around the town."

Bruin stood there watching him, and it gratified him that he seemed to appreciate his appearance, from the way his eyes lingered on his chest and his muscular arms. At last, his mage looked him in the eyes and tilted his head.

"As a date?" he asked.

"No!" he answered automatically, scowling. He heard Marka groan. "J-just helping one of my witches with a needed errand."

He saw Bruin roll his eyes, then put his hands on his hips and smirk. "I see! Well, then, Lord Sergiy, if it's not a date, you won't mind if I ask Rosemary and Lux to come along, right? They might need to buy some odds and ends as well."

"Of course I don't mind," he said, resisting the urge to clench his jaw. "In fact, I insist. As both Lord and warlord of Bastion, I should get to know my witches."

"Mmhmm, makes sense. Then if you'll excuse me, I should take a quick rinse in the shower." Bruin held his hands up, then indicated his bare feet, all of which had dirt stains. "Been doing a bit of gardening. Feel free to come in and chat, if you'd like, but otherwise it'll be about ten minutes."

After saying so, he closed his door most of the way, but left it open a crack. Listening, Sergiy could hear the sounds of shorts being unzipped, and then cloth hitting the floor.

A moment later, as he continued to stand there with his arms crossed, he noticed Markos glance at him.

"Ser," his brother whispered to him. "He's all but invited you in."

"But I already showered."

"Wind and stone, brother," Marka said, and burst out into laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the second witch, Rosemary, exit her room with a phone in her hand. "It's a shame you don't have our nose, this would all be so much easier."

Markos came around behind him, putting his hands on his shoulders and pushing him towards the door. "Go inside. Take him up on his offer to chat. Do not strip and join him in the shower, but do expect him to tease you. Do not give in, however tempting."

"Ah, how sweet are the first moves of courtship," the Hearth witch observed flatly.

"Any tips you'd be willing to offer our fledgling?" Marka asked her.

"I don't know if I'm rooting for him ." Rosemary pursed her lips, and he saw her look past them to… Russ's door? Marka dipped her head in acknowledgement of her position. "But I will at least advise that if you strike him in anger, you will lose him forever. Also, I'll have the castle eat you."

"It is my castle," he said.

"Being a host gives you power, but also burdens you with obligations," she said with import, and a shadow passed over her face.

"Enough talking," Markos said. "In you go!"

Sergiy was almost shoved face first into the door, but he raised an arm up automatically, and he burst in. He heard Markos close the door behind him.

The witch's room was… well. A little sparse, but he knew that the three witches still had belongings incoming; the Chicago Mage's Consortium paid for a single shipment of goods to Bastion Keep, and there could be furniture and such on the way.

The earth-toned rugs and forest paintings seemed to fit what he knew about Green magic. One corner of the room had a chalk circle drawn on the ground, and it was flanked by a shelf on one side with colorful gemstones, and on the other side by a desk with books and gardening tools. There were several changes of clothes tossed messily on the ground, and a pile of well-worn shoes and sandals, most with holes, and one seemingly held together purely by tape.

The left half of the room had a dresser, closet, and an unmade bed, and beyond that an open door leading to the bathroom.

He paused, collecting himself.

"Is that you, Lord Sergiy?" he heard the witch call out.

"Yes," he answered, moving to stand next to the bathroom door, but not looking inside. "You offered to chat."

"I did! Anything you want to talk about?"

He growled, thinking. "What do you need from the shop?"

"Gemstones, mainly. I want to make some charm pouches so I can do a better job after the next incursion."

"I think you did okay. I mean, that's what Teresa says, I'm just repeating it."

" Teresa thinks that, huh? I'll take it."

Bruin fell silent, and Sergiy tried to think up something else to say, but was distracted by the way the sounds of the shower echoed against his instincts, like steam in his chest.

Giving in, he peeked his head around the corner. The sliding glass on the shower was frosted over, though, and all he could make out was the distorted green image of the witch lathering his hair. He pulled back, wondering why he felt like he was intruding. This was his mate, after all! Didn't that count for something?

"So what's it like being a lord?" his mate asked.

"Pardon?"

"I mean being in charge. Being responsible." There was a brief babble while the witch scrubbed his face. "My parents have talked about it, how sometimes it's tough looking out for everyone in the community."

"That's probably a good way to put it," he agreed. "In short, everything that happens is my fault, like the injuries."

"You blame yourself?" He heard the shower shut off, and the sliding of the door. Resolutely, he kept his back to the bathroom, and definitely didn't imagine his mate drying dripping water droplets off of smooth skin.

"Not in that way. But I have to take ownership. Could I have trained them better? If I'd insisted on bringing four packs instead of three, would the added guardians have helped prevent the number of injuries? What if I'm not doing enough with asking our own government council for help, or for aid from the U.S.? So no, I'm not saying I blame myself, but it is my responsibility."

"Sounds weighty," Bruin said, emerging from the bathroom. "I'm sorry."

Sergiy nearly bit his tongue, watching as the witch balled up his towel and tossed it—somewhere, but he didn't see it land since he was busy staring as the witch unabashedly went to his dresser, buck ass naked.

No, Bruin definitely wasn't as muscular as the men he normally bedded, but a closer inspection showed he had some small definition from regular gardening, or maybe household labor. He felt his pants tighten as he watched his mate go to a dresser and begin pulling out clothes. His body was smooth, and only seemed to have hair on his torso, dark curls that led all the way down to a half-chub. From this profile view, he could see the semi jutting out. As he watched, breathless and hungry, he saw the green shaft and darker head start to lift further.

Striding forward, he came up behind the orc, putting his hands up on his shoulders. Bruin had a few inches of height on him, at least while he was human, but his shoes helped equalize them.

"My lord," his mate said, sounding entirely amused. "I can't put my clothes on with you holding on to me."

He growled, and he had to resist the urge to shift into his weredrake form. Reaching around, he hugged his mate against his chest, pressing his too-tight bulge up against the other man's ass.

"I want to take you," he hissed.

He felt Bruin grind his ass against him. "And I want to go shopping, but I think we only have time for one of those things."

He hissed again, which became a more of a groan as the witch grabbed a pair of boxers out of his dresser and then bent over, stepping slowly into them.

"I… very well."

It took concentration to back himself away.His instincts were screaming more , demanding that he rip his own clothes off and throw his mate onto his bed and just fuck him already—

And at that thought, he felt scales sprout along his back, and was glad that his current outfit had the runic enchantments that allowed them to change size with a shifter's changes, or else they'd be tatters on the ground. But Markos had said the Green witch was a tease, and teasing didn't automatically mean yes.

And when the witch turned around, despite the physical evidence of the erection that tented the witch's boxers, Sergiy had the sense that the man wasn't ready. He'd say yes if he pressed the issue—and oh, how badly his cock and inner fire wanted him to claim him— but in the doing he knew he would damage their almost-relationship.

Patience, he told his instincts, and surprisingly, the roaring flame settled down.

Bruin looked up at him, swallowed, and then immediately took a step forward to lay a hand on his snout.

"Weredrake form, huh?"

Sergiy looked down at his hands, and felt his tail swaying behind him. "Ah. Sometimes it is not always controllable."

"Like this, too, huh?" Bruin said, shifting his hips forward so that his tent tapped against his own cramped bulge, all the more obvious since he hadn't put on underwear.

He growled, raising his hands up in front of himself. " Please put your pants on so we can go on this damned group outing."

"What, I can't go out like this? There's only a couple of holes in my boxers."

"Clothes, witch," he said, forcing himself to turn his back. As he closed his eyes and tried to regain control, he could hear the witch going back to his dresser, laughing.

By the time Bruin had finished donning a pair of cargo shorts and a shockingly bright yellow shirt, he'd managed to shift back into his human form. Sergiy angled his hard on more comfortably, looked his mate over, then nodded and led the way back out into the hallway.

As soon as he emerged, he noticed High Priest Roland talking with the other two witches.The man turned towards him, a severe expression on his face.Sergiy's siblings gave him apologetic looks, shrugging their hands helplessly.

"Good morning, my lord," Roland said, not sounding at all like he meant the benediction. "I'm told that there's to be a group outing to go visit Moonie's shop. I should probably pick up a candle shipment, and bring Russ along. You wouldn't say no to him seeing his ma, right?"

"Of course not," he said smoothly. "The more the merrier."

"That's a good lad. I'll drive."