Chapter 25
Mark felt like a caged animal. Dean’s explanation that somehow the witch had caused his pain earlier made little sense when measured against Riley’s conviction that she hadn’t been anywhere close to the compound.
As irrational as it was, the thought that she targeted him in particular had crossed his mind.
But why? He’d never seen her or heard of her until the night she tore his world apart, and although he’d thought of her every day since, he’s never been anywhere close to her.
If he’d been, his purpose would be complete.
Caster’s presence in the small cabin was impossible to ignore.
So was his desire to retreat into the strong embrace it promised and never let go.
It had communicated a protection he’d vowed never to need.
Yet, here he was, sneaking glimpses of him through the living room’s large windows.
The conversation he was engrossed in with his bodyguard seemed heated, but Mark didn’t sense any danger.
Not that he would have any advance warning.
His wolf had retreated so far back into his hiding place, he could no longer feel him.
Panic clogged his throat at the thought that he would lose his wolf forever.
He chuckled even though this was the furthest from amusing anything could get.
The loss of that part of him would mean the death of his human self as well.
A werewolf spent most of their lives in human form, but it was the wolf that carried a werewolf’s lifeforce.
If the wolf were gone for good, the human wouldn’t last much longer than a few days.
Until now, the prospect of his death hadn’t scared him much.
The vampire whose energy seeped through the walls to increase the already rapid rate of his heart made him wonder about tomorrow in ways he didn’t need.
He shook his head to dislodge the images of a life with him.
It was ridiculous to even think about, not when his heart belonged to another.
He still loved Zeke with everything in his soul, didn’t he?
The door opened, and Caster walked in, his unique scent penetrating Mark’s occupied mind. Their eyes met, and a flutter flitted through his mind, the tiniest hint of his wolf’s presence warming his soul.
“Are you hungry? I don’t have a permanent staff here, but Kyle can get you something.”
It took a second for him to register the words. He shook his head. Food was a distant need compared to finding and killing the witch before he ran out of time.
“What?”
His jaw hardened, his hands balling into fists even as he forced his body to remain still. “I told you to stop reading my mind.”
Caster didn’t even flinch; a raised eyebrow was the only indication he even cared. “It is not my fault you keep broadcasting your thoughts.” He sat across from Mark. “And while we are on the subject, I am done tiptoeing around this. You need to tell me.”
Mark scoffed. “I told you, I am not yours to command.”
It took everything in him to hold his ground when Caster leaned forward. “This, whatever it is, is beginning to put my family, my interests, in danger.” His voice hardened, his dominance on full display. “I will go to the ends of the earth to protect what is mine.”
“You mean Bastian?” He only just restrained the cringe. Dean would be so disappointed.
Caster frowned.
“Oh come on! You can’t expect me to believe you don’t know what he’s done.” Boy, was he on a roll. What was it about Caster that tore everything out of him?
Caster had the decency to look confused. “And what is that?”
His calm demeanor was so grating, it took everything in him not to punch him in the face.
Caster’s laugh filled the space between them, an indication that he hadn’t hidden his violent intent very well. “I would really like to see you try.”
He shook his head, wishing he could leave. Perhaps he should. So, why did he have a hard time commanding his limbs to obey his mind?
Caster leaned back in his chair, the smirk on his face annoying in its familiarity, his gaze a torment Mark was forced to endure. “You would be formidable in a fight, wouldn’t you?”
No. He was not going to take that bait. The thought of sparring with him was too enticing to consider. “How do you know Bastian?”
Caster’s expression changed to something akin to worry. “He’s my cousin. Damien’s baby brother.”
That he didn’t deny knowing him was a good sign. He knew better than to expect any sense of cooperation from him in this matter. Bastian was his family, entitled to his protection, and he could respect that. It wouldn’t save him from Mark’s wrath. Nothing would.
“What did he do to you?” Caster’s soft tone drew him away from the myriad of bloody images clogging his mind, his imagination awash with all the ways he would kill Bastian.
He was still trying to find an answer that would be vague and satisfying to the vampire he couldn’t trust, when Caster sighed and shot to his feet. “Fine. You’re entitled to your secrets.”
Mark said nothing, but only because he feared he might not stop if he let the first word slip through.
Caster walked to the door, his phone in his hand, and reached for the doorknob. “Bastian is an asshole, but he’s family.”
The warning was explicit, and it reiterated his conviction that there was more going on here.
It seemed like too much of a coincidence that Bastian would show up and the witch would attack him in the space of forty-eight hours.
Caster and this family he vowed to protect, hid something from them.
Could they have sanctioned the witch’s attack?
If so, then why this elaborate act to ask for their help tracking her down?
No. The witch had killed as many vampires as wolves.
Nothing had changed. He needed more information, and if anyone could find a connection, it was James.
Now, he just needed to be extra careful to guard his mind from Caster.
It wouldn’t be easy the longer they remained stuck in this cabin, but for the sake of his vengeance, he would.
Everyone was a suspect until proven otherwise.