“Mark!”
Caster had been in a lot of battles, but he’d never seen anyone fight with such ferocity or focus.
It was clear Bastian deserved it, but why?
Why would Mark try to kill a Born-Vampire and almost succeed?
His only advantage had been that he’d caught Bastian by surprise.
Werewolves were strong, capable of taking a vampire’s head in a single bite, but only in wolf-form and with the element of surprise on their side.
Mark had seemed intent on killing Bastian in human form.
What had Bastian done to deserve such hatred?
Mark’s thoughts, that he’d forgotten to guard again, spoke of Bastian’s role in something terrible.
He shook his head. Whatever it was, Mark didn’t or couldn’t talk about it.
It wasn’t too much of a leap to connect it with the pain that had all but consumed him last night.
Caster had never had a submissive react to him that way. It was not unusual for a release of pent-up emotion to follow an intense scene, but that had been more than emotion. The raw pain had infected the space with its dark energy. Was Bastian responsible for it?
He couldn’t put it past his young cousin.
Bastian was Damien’s youngest brother and closest to their father.
Uncle Lucien’s resistance to the treaty was loud.
Could this be related to his uncle’s campaign against the King’s decree to end the war, and what did it have to do with Mark? There were too many coincidences.
“What the fuck?” Dean’s voice filled his damaged, bloodied study.
He met the storm in the Prime Alpha’s blue eyes, trying to find words to explain the situation.
“Mark!”
His brother’s scent was everywhere. “Yes. But he’s fine.”
“Where is he?” The tightness in his voice, the tension tightening his jaw, were the only signals of his rage.
“His room.”
The Prime Alpha stared Caster down for a long second, the blaze in those blue eyes enough to cause anyone else to shrink away. “I will need an explanation for this.”
“You and me both.”
Dean nodded and left, pushing past Damien in his haste to get to his brother.
“What did your brother do?”
Damien’s frown was familiar, and he was aware that his question indicated he’d taken sides, but he had no apologies, just a situation with the potential to be a huge problem for all of them.
Damien sighed. “I don’t know, man.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a rare sign of frustration. “I haven’t seen him in over a year.”
“What was he doing here?” Caster couldn’t get himself to move to the chair, his hands flexing in preparation for action he couldn’t yet see.
Damien shook his head. “He said he needed something from Riley.”
“And you didn’t believe him?”
“No. I caught him in here, looking guilty as fuck. Whatever he’d been here to do is not good.”
Caster rubbed at his tired face.
“Why would Mark want to kill him?”
He shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
“Bas is capable of a lot, the little shit. But it’s a long time since I saw that much rage.”
“Where is he?”
“He said something about not wanting to be where he’s not wanted and took a car.”
Caster frowned, ready to insist that he didn’t want Bastian anywhere near the house…
“Don’t worry. He’s not coming back. He got whatever he needed here.”
“We need to find out what that is.”
Damien nodded. “Julian is on it.”
With Damien’s reassurance and trust in Julian’s capabilities, Caster relaxed enough to sit at his desk. Julian, Damien’s Head of Security, was the most capable of them to find out what Bastian had been up to. The broken door would have to be fixed, but they’d been lucky that’s all it was.
“Goddess, that wolf is strong!”
The reverence in Damien’s voice brought a smile to Caster’s face. Yes, he was. “He would be very useful in a fight.”
Damien leaned forward. “So, why do we know close to nothing about him?”
“He is the Werewolf Council’s Head of Security.”
“Yeah…”
Caster frowned. He knew that look. “What?”
“A few years ago, I caught Bastian and his friends talking about failing to kill someone. They stopped as soon as they saw me, but it sounded like more than the usual hunt, you know.”
“And you think it was Mark?”
“It would explain his rage. If someone had tried to kill me and failed, I’d be as mad as he was.”
Caster nodded. Mark didn’t want to talk about whatever it was. “Julian knows about this?”
“Is there anything Julian doesn’t know?” Damien stood. “I’m off to clean up and find something to eat.” But he didn’t move, his expression determined. “Our guests are hiding something.”
“No shit.”
The tension in his shoulders rolled off him as he leaned back in his chair, watching his cousin walk past the remnants of what was once a sturdy door.
Diplomacy was necessary to prevent another war with the wolves.
He’d grown to trust that Dean would enforce the treaty at all costs.
They were both prepared to do that, and so far, the treaty held.
There was no shortage of small skirmishes between the species, encouraged by Uncle Lucien and his cohorts, but they were nothing more than a nuisance. Had Mark been the victim of one?