Chapter 26
Hunger coursed through Caster’s veins. Hunger for answers, white-hot hunger for the wolf in the next room.
He could hear his breath, and it seemed he was too worked up to fall asleep.
Riley promised to call as soon as everything was clear, but that had been hours ago.
Mark hadn’t spoken to him, except to ask if he could use one of the bedrooms. The sound of the shower earlier had conjured images of his naked form, increasing the intensity of Caster’s need to see him.
His arousal was beyond his control, adding to the annoyance he couldn’t get over.
What was taking Julian so long? If he only knew what Bastian had done, perhaps there could be amiability between them.
That this was more than just about the witch had gone from a niggling doubt to all-out certainty.
The conviction that he would need his father, that the treaty and everything that came with it would come into play before this was over, grew until he couldn’t deny it.
That was why this attraction to the wolf he couldn’t seem to get away from was such a nuisance.
He didn’t have time for such entanglements.
His purpose was the protection of his species.
As his father often said, being King meant being responsible for every vampire walking the earth.
The witch and her endless need to kill his kind was, by extension, his problem.
That she also threatened the werewolves shouldn’t factor into his plans.
So, why did it bother him so much that she seemed intent on hurting Mark?
What is it about him that made him a target?
Caster shook his head. He couldn’t think about that. His priority should be his family, and yes, that included Bastian. His young cousin was involved in some way, but he was also misguided, a pawn in Uncle Lucien’s plans.
He drained the last of the whisky in his glass and moved to the bed.
The alcohol kept another one of his hungers at bay.
With so much going on, he’d once again missed his chance to feed, and he was beginning to feel the effects.
He stared at the black screen of his phone, willing it to ring.
Julian, or better yet, Riley, would free him from this prison.
He flopped headfirst onto the bed and closed his eyes.
Out of habit, he allowed his heightened senses to take in the sounds of the night.
The familiar, strong, dependable thump of Kyle’s heart reached him first. He hesitated to listen in on Mark only for a second, but his curiosity overrode common sense, and he was startled to find his heart rate slow and steady.
He was asleep. Against his better judgment, relief coursed through him, only for it to increase his annoyance tenfold.
He closed his eyes and willed himself to think of something else, anything other than the images of the perfect fit of Mark’s relaxed body against him that night at the club.
His mind flitted between thoughts of how trusting he’d been and images of the perceived danger his secrets brought.
He’d just fortified his mind against the need to burst through that second bedroom door and draw him into his arms when a whispered “no” reached his ears.
Confusion was momentary when a roar shook the walls, so loud it left an insistent ring in his ears.
The roar was followed by a low whine. The whine of an injured wolf.
He moved before he could formulate thoughts, avoiding a collision with Kyle as he too raced towards the tormented sound coming from Mark’s room.
He tore the door off its hinges in his attempts to subdue whatever attacked him, only to stop dead in his tracks.
No threat. No witch. Mark was in the deep grip of what could only be a nightmare.
His shirtless body thrashed, his muscles straining against the unseen threat.
His wolf alternated between threatening roars and whines of pain.
Caster glanced at Kyle to see his confusion mirrored on the otherwise stoic vampire’s face.
“You’ve got this?” Kyle asked, his voice low.
Caster’s reply was a nod, even though he didn’t know what this was.
His tentative steps carried him to the tormented werewolf, cautious as he approached the bed. The wolf may be wounded, but the strength he’d demonstrated a few days ago was sufficient to cause a lot of harm.
Caster sat on the bed and reached for his arm. Mark’s body stopped its violent thrashing as soon as he made contact. His breath was shallow, the wolf’s whines lost their urgency, retreating to the safety of Mark’s mind, but he still couldn’t hold on to his breath.
“Wake up!”
Mark’s eyes popped open. Caster had a moment to register the confusion on his face before he moved.
Their lips met, and it was his turn to escape the tight rein of control.
He could do nothing to deter his tongue from taking everything Mark offered.
Moans, mixed in with their labored breaths, filled the room as he pulled Mark closer, the need to feel his body again overriding his good sense.
His hand found Mark’s hair, and the damp strands drew him away from the haze this impossible attraction had brought. He tore his lips away from Mark’s, drawing his body further back when Mark wouldn’t relent.
“Stop it!”
Mark opened his eyes, his breath even shallower. Goddess, he was beautiful, and Caster never wanted anything more than everything he offered.
His hand went through Mark’s hair with little input from his brain. Until now, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed touching him, the surrender in his every muscle.
“Breathe, Mark.”
That surrender tore at his resolution that this shouldn’t happen. He closed his eyes to keep the enticing, reddened, wet lips from calling to him, but he lost that battle.
“Please…” Mark’s voice was a rough, low whisper devoid of the fight and energy it had displayed a few hours earlier.
He opened his eyes. “Don’t.” Still, he wouldn’t stop touching him. “We can’t.”
Mark didn’t try to move away from the temptation. He drew closer, their lips almost touching. “Just fuck me.”
It was so easy to give in. Caster wanted nothing more, but one of them had to be rational, or this could be very dangerous.
He tightened his grip on the back of Mark’s head when he attempted to bridge the tiny gap keeping them away from the kiss they both wanted.
“I want you. Goddess, I want you. But I will not be used.”
Mark didn’t shy away from the accusation. “I don’t mean to.”
“That’s the problem. We don’t mean to.” He drew Mark even closer as he situated himself, leaning against the headboard. “I can’t be with you the way you want me to. The way you need me to…”
Unsure of who moved first, his words faded into Mark’s welcoming mouth as he lost the fight to resist him. The kiss was urgent, rough, and a silent testimony of their fucked up situation.
When they both needed breath, he drew away, but was still unable to get away from the temptation that was Mark.
Mark grabbed hold of his arm to keep his hand where it was, and Caster smiled. “I can’t stop. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Then fuck me, please.” This time, his voice was clearer, stronger.
“I want everything.”
Mark shook his head.
“You can’t give me that.”
“Didn’t I do that at the club?”
“No.”
The scent of arousal filled the room, denying his denial. There was something broken in Mark that he refused to share, and as long as it remained that way, he couldn’t trust, not in the way he needed, if they were going to do this.
But… “Maybe what we need are ground rules.”
Mark pushed away from Caster to stand at the foot of the bed. Caster followed, ready to argue his case, but Mark stepped further away from him. “I just want you to fuck me. It’s fine if you don’t want to.” His shrug spoke of a casualness they both knew was a lie. “I can find someone else to do it.”
Caster had him by the neck against the closed door in a hair’s breadth.
Mark stared at him, the defiance in his expression daring him to squeeze.
His hand tightened a fraction, and Mark let out a moan so sinful, he lost all hope of rational thought.
This time, when his tongue invaded Mark’s mouth, he commanded surrender.
The fight lasted a few seconds before every muscle in Mark’s body melted against him, yielding to his assault.
His senses drowned in his need, and action replaced thought.
He tore his lips from Mark’s and turned him, slamming his body face-first against the rough door.
A moan punctuated the harsh sound of their breaths when he tore Mark’s only clothing off his lower body.
In a second, he had his cock where he needed it, pushing into Mark’s unyielding tightness.
“Yes, please.” The whispered request reached his ears, and he pushed his hips forward, plunging into Mark’s warmth in a single stroke.
Mark’s hiss dissipated into a moan as his body adjusted.
He trembled, and Caster held him through it, but the need to move overtook his concern that he might have hurt him.
He tried to keep his thrusts gentle, but Mark pushed back with such ferocity that he had no choice but to respond in kind.
He drowned in the need to release every pent-up emotion into Mark’s welcoming body.
The niggling need for release tickled his body with its promise, but he needed this more.
He slammed into Mark with such fervor, the door rattled, the walls around them groaning their disapproval.
He didn’t remember sex with anyone feeling this good, the pleading whispers from Mark’s lips pushing him further and further into the haze of violent pleasure.
He chased the orgasm with each retreat, only to fear it would come too soon every time Mark’s body tightened around him.
It was almost as if they were built for each other, the perfect fit.
He moaned long and low, the rhythm of his hips growing more erratic as Mark’s pleas for release grew louder. ‘
He reached for Mark’s cock, the grainy wooden door scratching his hand as he struggled to find purchase in the tiny space. Mark cried out at the first touch, but Caster called on all his control. He’d forced this, and for that, he would endure until Caster was ready to let them both fall.
“Don’t stop. Don’t ever…” The rough sound of Mark’s voice called to every base instinct, and Caster lost all control.
He released his cock and grabbed his hips, the force of his thrusts pushing Mark into the door. He looked at their point of connection, and he couldn’t hold on any longer. “Come!”
The command tore from his lips with little input from the side of him that was always in control.
He shuddered and stumbled when Mark did what he did best. His body grabbed hold of Caster in a tight grip, the waves of his orgasm gripping and releasing his cock in a rhythm that had him panting.
He wasn’t too far behind, his own pleasure washing over him like the tumultuous cascade of a waterfall, and he drowned in it.
When relaxation and then exhaustion claimed the violence of the encounter, Caster’s face was in Mark’s hair, their bodies still connected so he could feel Mark’s breath reverberate through him. Rational thought replaced contentment, and he pulled out of Mark’s warmth.
It took a few seconds for Mark to move. He wanted to pull him into his arms, but he was certain his offer of comfort would be rejected.
He could only watch as Mark moved to the bed, his sigh overtaking the silence occupying the small space as he fell into it face-first, turning away from Caster’s gaze.
He’d been dismissed, and as absurd as it sounded, it hurt. Mark didn’t stir as he opened the door, intent on getting to his room as fast as he could. There was no need to be where he wasn’t wanted. If Riley knew what was good for him, he’d better find that witch’s talisman before morning.