“I do… want to fuck you.”
His mother’s visit couldn’t have come at a worse time.
Still, her presence in the house was a salve for his restlessness.
There was so much to deal with, and Caster was having a hard time waiting for more information from Julian.
Acting without that information could be disastrous, so this dinner his mother had insisted on was a welcome distraction.
He knew nothing of it until she told him a few minutes ago.
It seemed his household’s devotion to their queen surpassed their loyalty to him.
He sat in the living area adjacent to his room, waiting for Mark to dress. He hadn’t seen him since the study that morning, and it seemed even he had accepted his summons to dinner with the Queen with little hesitation. Not that anyone would ever say no to his mother.
“Your mother is nice.” Mark entered the living area, fumbling with the top button of his shirt.
Caster smiled. “That she is, until you mess with one of her children.” He was on his feet and in Mark’s space before he remembered to keep his distance, his fingers itching to touch him.
“Stop looking at me like that.” His voice was a raspy whisper.
“Like what?” His fingers found a few errant strands of Mark’s full hair on his forehead, brushing them aside, his voice just as distorted.
“Like that.” Mark’s voice rose, but he didn’t move. “Like you want to fuck me.”
“I do… want to fuck you.”
He bit his lip, and Caster barely restrained his moan.
“Stop that.”
He hadn’t considered that the sight of the reddened lip would increase the battle raging in him. What is it about Mark that just ripped his control to shreds?
Mark placed his hands on his chest, perhaps to push him away. “I agreed to have dinner with the queen. I can’t show up all messed up.”
A reminder of his mother was the appropriate ice bucket to dampen his arousal.
He stepped back and took a breath. It was clear he needed to do something about the overwhelming need for Mark, but that meant taking everything.
On this topic, there were few certainties except that Mark was not willing or ready to give him everything.
“The one thing she hates is tardiness.” Caster walked towards the door.
Mark said nothing, following close behind.
His heightened senses picked up on the increased numbers in his house. That wasn’t unusual. His mother traveled with a considerable entourage, most of whom were security. The sound of joyous conversation reached his ears as they approached the main living area.
His mother smiled when she saw him. He smiled back, her comfort stilling the worry he couldn’t leave behind.
Her youthful vigor, the way she accepted everything life offered, was so like his brother Cyrus that he missed him every time he saw her.
It didn’t help that they shared certain physical attributes as well.
Her long, black hair, which she wore perfectly coiffed, spoke of a regality that belied her easy acceptance of everything and everyone.
“Good, you’re both here.” She glanced at Mark, her smile growing, and Caster sighed as the image of their conversations minutes earlier flooded his thoughts. Had he forgotten to fortify his mind again?
She reached for his arm, and the worry that had been his constant companion the last few days fleeted away as he relaxed.
“Come on! The others are waiting.” Then she surprised him by reaching for Mark’s arm as well, so she walked between them.
Led them. They had no choice but to follow her lead.
Mark gave him a questioning glance, and he shrugged.
Whatever his mother wanted, she got. There was no use fighting her.
She led them to the same dining room where he’d met Mark, and the memory of that day threatened to bring the arousal simmering below the surface to a boiling point.
Mark gasped, no doubt having zeroed in on the same memory, but when he turned to him, the look on his face was not what he expected.
His increased heart rate signaled fear, raw and primal, followed a second later by rage.
His mother’s steps faltered, and she turned to Mark. “Honey, what’s wrong?” She’d only whispered it, but the whole room: Damien and Riley, Riley’s mother Adella, his aunt Edie, and Ben, the Prime Alpha and his little brother all heard it.
He pushed his mother aside, glad she didn’t fight him and had Mark by the arm as his wolf made its presence felt with a growl that shook the room. “What?”
Dean was there, grabbing his brother’s other arm. “Mark?”
Mark stared at Caster, his eyes amber as he fought the animal in him from overtaking him.
He followed his gaze to one vampire he didn’t recognize, and realization dawned. “He’s one of them?”
Mark’s nod was lost in his intent to move towards his goal.
Caster looked at Dean, thankful to see the Prime Alpha’s understanding of what they needed to do.
He tightened his hold on Mark’s arm, and together they held him in place.
He paid little attention to their audience as he turned Mark to face him. “Look at me!”
He breathed a sigh when Mark obeyed, familiar brown eyes overwhelmed by the amber signaling his impending transformation.
He nodded towards the vampire, now in Kyle’s custody. “He won’t get away.” Mark started to fight his hold, so he drew him closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Kyle will restrain him, and we can question him when we’re done here.”
Mark glanced at his brother, who nodded his acceptance.
Caster didn’t know how that vampire had ended up in his mother’s security detail, but he intended to find out.
Mark’s breath remained short, the rage in him permeating the room.
“Breathe for me.”
He was aware of Dean’s stare as Mark closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
The Prime Alpha would demand an explanation soon, but as he led Mark to his seat at the table, he found he cared little for what anyone in the room thought of his relationship with Mark.
He didn’t understand it himself, and even if he did, he owed no one nothing.
His mother opened her mouth, but he shook his head. Her desire to soothe Mark was not unusual, but he needed Mark’s rage just under the surface, ready to be unleashed. They would need it soon.
He’s one of them. He answered Damien’s questioning look.
His cousin maintained his composure, the involuntary tick in his jaw the only indication that he’d made the connection.
§
The food, the conversation, and even the table were all a blur to Mark.
The vile scent that the vampire emitted, even now, and his wolf’s constant clawing at the barrier, were all he could focus on.
If Caster hadn’t been there, he was certain he would have that vampire’s head in his jaw in the instant he’d recognized his scent.
He understood why Caster had stopped him. The violent images in his mind were not an appropriate introduction to the queen. He’d only met her a few minutes earlier. Her tenderness, easy smile, and general kindness surprised him.
He couldn’t escape Dean’s stare, his influence reaching past the barrier to calm the restless animal in his mind, and he closed his eyes.
Any other time, his brother’s interference would be annoying at best, but Caster was right.
Killing that vampire would only satisfy the bloodlust. It would do nothing to get him closer to his main goal.
He glanced at Caster as Dean’s Alpha won the raging battle in his mind and his wolf retreated behind the barrier, the conversation at the table edging past the rage to reach his ears.
“I can do it…” Edie, who’d introduced herself as Riley’s aunt, said, and from the puzzled look on her face, directed at him, she must have been talking about him or to him. She smiled, the expression enhancing her beautiful features. “You weren’t listening?”
“Sorry?” He didn’t know what he could say to get everyone’s attention off him.
“We were talking about the protection spell you still don’t have.
” The queen’s voice drew his attention. There was a little resemblance there; he must favor his father.
But when she smiled, the memory of a similar expression on Caster’s face filtered through the remainder of his rage, and he smiled back. “Edie just offered to do it.”
He nodded. “OK.”
The matter settled, the conversation went back to topics that had nothing to do with him, and it was safe for him to go back to his plans for revenge.
As his mind alternated between tearing the vampire’s arms off and tearing his heart out of his chest, he kept one ear on the conversation.
He didn’t miss the familiarity between the queen and his brothers.
He knew they’d met before, but he hadn’t expected them to be this comfortable with each other.
Tell me.
Caster’s voice joined the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.
He glanced at him, unsure how he could. Their telepathic communication until now had only been one-way.
Get a clear image of me in your head and then just… tell me.
He closed his eyes and tried. The clear image of him was easy enough. Like this?
Caster smiled. Yes. Now, stop looking at me like that. We don’t want them to listen in, do we?
Mark stared at the plate of what was a second course. He hadn’t touched the first, and lifting the fork to his mouth seemed like a chore. Do you know him?
No.
How is he here? Why?
He must have been in my mother’s security detail. Trust me, he will tell Kyle how that happened.
The conviction was unmistakable, and so was his rage. It paled in comparison to the rage Mark struggled to contain, but it was there. Against the conviction of beliefs he still held on to, he trusted Caster’s word. I am going to kill him.
That I don’t doubt. I expect nothing less, but baby, we need to find out what he knows first.
There it was again, the endearment. The first time he’d heard it, he thought perhaps he’d imagined it.
Caster’s hand had been tearing his world apart with expert precision, driving him toward the inevitable ultimate pleasure.
But here it was, unimagined and real. He liked it.
Liked the way it rolled off his tongue, like he was unaware he used it.
He shook his head to tear his mind away from any thoughts of Caster’s tongue and shoved food into his mouth. Blood, flailing limbs, that vampire’s beating heart in his fist. He couldn’t let Caster’s pet names or the way he was looking at him now tear him away from his ultimate goal.
Dean, who sat next to him, kicked his shin under the table, and he turned to his brother, giving him a shrug. His inability to contain his anger and his response to Caster earlier meant that his brother would soon demand an explanation.
But as the table descended into laughter at something Ben said, Mark gave his brother his best blank stare. If Dean wanted an explanation, he’d have to get in line behind him. This was so fucked up on so many levels, he would soon drown in them.