Chapter 29
Dean left a few minutes after James, explicit in his warning that he shouldn’t leave the house, and Mark had been on edge ever since.
He checked the barrier for the thousandth time in the past hour just to make sure he hadn’t lost his wolf again.
James’s findings meant that a fight was inevitable.
The battle lines drawn that night were even clearer now, and he would need his wolf if he were to stay in the fight.
He raised the latest bottle of whisky to his lips, the liquid burning a path through his throat to his empty stomach.
It was the sixth bottle in the last hour, and he felt its effects.
His wolf’s expedited healing meant that his kind couldn’t get drunk, but he was too wired to settle into the obscene whiteness of this room.
It was missing something, something he had a hard time admitting to himself.
The night called to him as he paced the room he hated, drowning in the alcohol’s effect. His wolf sighed in a periodic rhythm. Was he getting drunk as well? Mikey had once described the effect to him, but Mark had always been too studious to engage in foolish fun before.
It wasn’t fun he sought. Now, he hoped the alcohol would dull his senses long enough to keep the nightmares at bay.
One other solution had proven effective, but how could he explain going to Caster without confronting his feelings?
He’d said he wanted everything or nothing.
Mark had already given everything to Zeke. He was empty.
His grip on the bottle tightened enough that a cracking sound filled the room.
He looked at his wet hand. Blood tinged the whisky coating it, as did the shards of glass that bore into his skin.
No pain, though. He pulled out the glass and was out of the door, his destination calling to both sides of him.
Kyle was at his post again, and he stepped aside, opening the door as Mark approached. His smirk was not enough to deter Mark, who walked in, Caster’s scent overwhelming him. A bit of this, and he could go to sleep.
He turned the corner toward the sitting area and stumbled.
Caster’s stare held him still, but he wasn’t alone.
That boy was here again, naked in Caster’s lap, cradled against his chest. The room swayed, the vision of the intimate scene around him drowning in the alcohol. He needed to get out of here.
He started to turn, but…
“Don’t you move!”
His breath caught, every muscle held still, and he was forced to endure tenderness he hadn’t seen in a long time. Caster brushed the boy’s hair from his face, waking him with soothing whispers. The boy stirred, and a blurry Kyle walked in to take his hand, leading him out.
Caster patted the cushion next to him, and his muscles regained their vigor, carrying him to the couch.
“What’s wrong with you?”
The tone was harsh, and his mind swam with the answer, but he couldn’t find the words. Caster stood, and he tried to reach for him, only for his hand to fall back onto the couch.
He came back with a glass of water. “Drink this.”
He took a sip, keeping a wary eye on Caster. His wolf had no such reservation; he’d come out to play, exhibiting his shameless joy at each command.
Caster nodded towards the glass. “All of it.” He stood over him, and all Mark wanted was to shuffle to his knees, the taste of his cock a memory he wanted to revisit.
“No. We are not doing that.” Caster resumed his seat next to him, but somehow still too far away. “Are you drunk? I didn’t think that was possible.”
“I have to… I can…” Why was it so hard to string a sentence together? “Make it go away…”
Caster stared at him, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
If he could kiss him or fuck him, his wolf would come out and heal this.
Caster’s eyes widened, and even to his drunk mind, he realized he’d shared too much.
“This fucking day…”
Caster’s words made little sense, and he closed his eyes against the effect of his overindulgence.
He took a breath and, with it, absorbed more of Caster’s irresistible scent.
His wolf came closer, its presence easing his blurriness.
He moaned his relief and repeated the action.
This time, his drunkenness was a distant nuisance.
When he opened his eyes, Caster’s face was clear, and the consequences of his error in judgment fell like a hammer.
“We will talk about” —Caster waved a hand between them— “this. And you are not leaving until we do.”
Mark swallowed the dread clogging his throat. He’d brought this on himself.
“Yes, you have.” Caster’s smirk mocked him. “Feeling better?”
He could only nod.
Caster turned his body toward him. “Good. Explain yourself.”
He didn’t know where to start. It seemed impossible that a vampire would exert so much control on his wolf, but too many coincidences can only mean the truth is around.
Caster remained silent, waiting.
He took a breath. “Fine. I can’t transform. Well, I couldn’t until I came here. Until you.”
The confusion on Caster’s face was back.
The longer he remained in his presence, the more his wolf healed his drunkenness.
His clearer mind was certain he couldn’t tell Caster what had happened to push his wolf away.
He was certain he’d never find the words to describe that night.
But he could talk about its effects. “It started the night we found that creature, or it found us. My wolf came back as soon as you touched me, and then he was gone again until…”
“That night at the club.”
“And he was gone again when the witch attacked me in the study. He was really gone that time and only came back when I woke up at the cabin.”
“After our…”
He nodded.
Caster shot to his feet. “How’s that possible?” His tone was calm, too calm, but the energy emanating from him was potent enough to ignite the room.
Mark was so busy fortifying himself for the inevitable “why” that it took a second to register the question Caster had settled on. His exhale whooshed out of him, his mind clearer than before he’d indulged in too much alcohol. “I don’t know. I just know…”
Caster sat next to him, and Mark prayed he would see past his brokenness.
“You’re not broken.”
Tears stung, but he refused to shed them.
“So, you’re telling me your wolf only reappears when you’re close to me?”
Mark nodded, the significance of what he’d shared stealing his words.
Caster surprised him by smiling. “And here I thought nothing could surprise me.”
§
Caster couldn’t stop looking at him. He was so vulnerable, but the memory of the strength he’d displayed when he’d attacked Bastian, the ferocity of his rapid movement belied any weakness.
Everything he said now made sense, if impossibilities were real.
Still, it took everything in him not to touch the loose strands of hair on his forehead to ease the hurt that lay under his flushed skin.
Mark shrugged. “I don’t get it either.”
He was trying to be casual about it, but Caster could only imagine what he’d endured.
He missed the essence that made him a vampire if he went a day without accessing it.
How long had it been this way? He was certain Mark was done sharing, but given what Julian discovered, he could guess.
Ten years. Was his affliction related to that event? Had Bastian done this to him?
Mark’s rumbling stomach interrupted the dark turn his thoughts had taken, and they both smiled. That smile was rare and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Did you eat today?” He asked even as he instructed Kyle to send Sophie to his room.
Mark shook his head. “I was too busy.”
It didn’t take long for the young Made-Vampire to enter. Mark startled as she did and looked at Caster, his mind awash with questions. Sophie had been his cook for a few years, and he thanked the Goddess she was too young to see the images Mark’s mind had conjured.
You need to fortify your mind better. And no, she’s here for you. Females don’t interest me in that way.
A blush colored his cheeks, but his mind fell silent.
“You sent for me, Your Highness?” Sophie glanced at Mark for a second.
“Sophie, this is Mark, and he’s hungry.”
She brightened. “Of course, I can get you anything you want.”
Mark glanced at him and then back at Sophie. “Whatever you have is fine.”
Sophie smiled, her blue eyes brightening with genuine joy. “Your brother said you like your steak well done? That is unusual. Both your brothers like theirs rare, almost raw.” Then she nodded to herself. “I can get you that…”
“Sure.” Mark seemed a little taken aback by Sophie’s kindness, and Caster smiled. Her uncanny ability to befriend anyone was the reason she was a valuable part of his household.
Her smile brightened, making her seem much younger than her 150 years. “And ice cream? What kind?”
Mark frowned.
Sophie didn’t skip a beat. “Your brother said you love ice cream.”
Ice cream, huh? Mark worked too hard to ignore his question, and Caster smiled.
“Chocolate chip?”
Sophie nodded. “Of course.” She turned to him. “Do you need anything, Your Highness?”
Caster shook his head. “No, thank you, Sophie. I’m sorry if we woke you.”
“No. I was preparing for tomorrow.”
Shit. With everything going on, he’d almost forgotten his mother’s imminent arrival. He dismissed Sophie with a nod, and she went to her task.
Mark looked at him with a guarded expression. In the short time he’d known him, he’d grown to hate that look. “What else do you like?” Perhaps mundane conversation would help lower the guardrails he’d erected.
Mark frowned at him, almost as if he didn’t expect the question from anyone.
Caster shrugged, the need to break down those guard rails growing in him. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Why?”