Chapter 30
An agitated Damien paced the length of his study when Caster found him.
He looked disheveled, his shirt tails sticking out of his slacks, his uneven sleeves rolled up, which was so out of character for his cousin, Caster worried.
He turned to the only other person in the room, but Julian’s shrug and stoic demeanor did nothing to remedy his worry.
“Please don’t tell me my day is about to get worse.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s already tomorrow. What now?”
Damien ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t get past the possibility Bastian was involved with the witch, so I had Julian dig a little deeper.” He nodded in Julian’s direction, whose calm expression did nothing to dilute the restless energy from Damien. “Tell him.”
“I still don’t have all the details, but he is. So is your uncle, Your Highness.”
“And they’re making vampires,” Damien said.
“What?” The control he’d reined in minutes earlier tore at the seams, and rage overwhelmed the remnants of arousal.
The two vampires in the room were the least likely to be affected by his anger, but while Julian maintained his usual calm, Damien seemed too wired to sit.
Caster could understand his agitation. His grandfather had forbidden the making of new vampires before he was born.
The war had brought back the practice, but the treaty had reintroduced the old law, and with good reason.
“We need to tell the King.” Damien’s tone was flat, a mismatch with the frantic energy he didn’t seem willing to subdue.
Caster looked at Julian. “You’re sure.”
“My prisoner is very motivated to tell the truth.” He stood. “The wolves haven’t made a connection yet, but James is close, and I’ve known him long enough to know he’s already thinking it.”
“You’re saying we need to tell them.”
“It is not my place to make decisions, Your Highness. But if my prisoner is telling the truth,”—the calm demeanor slipped for a microsecond, revealing the battle-hardened soldier they would soon need— “which I am certain he is, then we can’t keep them in the dark.
It’s best if the Prime Alpha hears it from you. ”
“Is there any way to get proof of the new Made-Vampires before morning?”
Julian shook his head. “By day’s end, maybe.”
“We tell Dean first and then the King,” Damien said, his worry clear and understandable. They’d long worried Uncle Lucien would cause problems for them sooner or later, but he’d hoped family would trump whatever ambitions he harbored. Perhaps not.
Shit, why did he keep forgetting… “Mother’s coming here tomorrow.”
Damien frowned. “Is that a good idea?”
“You try telling her she can’t.”
The smile on Damien’s face was a brief interruption, gone before it could ease Caster’s worry.
“She’s with Riley’s mother and Edie.”
Damien nodded. The two powerful Fire Witches would ensure the Queen’s safety, as would the contingent of no less than ten bodyguards she traveled with. Like her youngest son, she hated the extra attention, but she couldn’t defy the King any more than Ben would defy Caster.
“Let’s all get some sleep.” He looked at Julian. “Where’s your prisoner?”
“Secure. I thought you’d rather not know the details.”
Caster couldn’t help the smile. Julian’s efficiency knew no bounds. “We’ll have a formal meeting with the wolves first thing and then notify the King.” He would not go to his father unless he had a solution or at least an idea of one.
Julian excused himself and left. Damien sat behind Caster’s desk and leaned back, a fraction of the tension he didn’t try to hide dissipating with his exhale. “Why would he do this?”
“It doesn’t make sense. It can’t be just about the treaty…” Caster longed to sit, but his energy was all over the place, torn between his family and Mark.
“And Bas…” Damien’s heavy sigh increased the tension in the room. “You know he just wants Father’s approval.”
Other than their identical looks, their fathers also shared an imposing character. Unlike his brother, Uncle Lucien used his to manipulate his children for his own sinister purposes. “We’ll do everything we can to save him.”
“You think the wolves will just let it go?” Damien scoffed and then shook his head. “Not after what he did to the Prime Alpha’s brother.”
“We’ll convince them it’s in their best interest.”
They both chuckled. “Goddess, this is so fucked up.”
He had no idea.
Damien stood. “I need to eat. I’ll see you in the morning?”
The new complication consumed Caster’s mind as his cousin’s burdened form moved past him toward the door.
Trouble was over the horizon; every ounce of his being was certain of it.
The greatest test his father reiterated every time they talked about what made a good king was here.
Would he crumble, as Uncle Lucien had all those centuries ago, or would he rise to the occasion, be the leader his people needed?
His mind too consumed with the possibility of failure, he’d forgotten about Mark until he neared his bedroom door.
A calm, steady heartbeat spoke of the wolf’s rest, but he almost laughed when he walked into the sitting area to find him asleep.
His body was too large for the small couch, and the position he was in would prove a bad idea in the morning.
Caster surrendered to the need to comfort him and reached for his hair, gentle touches aimed at waking him.
Mark moaned, the ever-present walls he erected dissolving into the comfort of sleep, but he didn’t stir.
Even when Caster took off his shoes and belt, he grunted his disapproval at the disturbance and went right back to sleep.
“OK, come on!” He whispered to no one in particular and gathered Mark’s bulk in his arms, carrying him to bed with little effort.
He snuggled into the bed like he belonged, and Caster was plagued by images of him there every night.
But he wouldn’t go there; there was still too much to figure out between them, and that was before they unraveled the role his family had played in his pain.
Still, he didn’t try to fight the desire to hold him, changing into his pajamas in quick movements before joining Mark. He tried not to think too much about how well they fit as he closed his eyes and allowed the oblivion of sleep to dissolve his worries.