“You OK?”
Mark sat at the dining table in the room adjacent to a kitchen so familiar to him, he could walk through it blindfolded. Yet, everything seemed out of place. The chairs were all wrong, as was everyone sitting in them, chatting away as if his world wasn’t crashing around him.
He recognized their fear in their pseudo-joy.
His sharp senses could detect the undercurrent of grief from everyone around and the battle they fought to hold that overwhelming emotion at bay.
The queen laughed at something Dean said, and he had enough, pushing out of his chair.
He needed the outside, something other than the denial.
He was past the front door and on the front lawn before he remembered how cold this part of the world could get.
He longed to transform, but he feared he would get stuck in wolf-form without Caster’s sure hand to guide him back.
How had this happened? The wolf drew closer, flooding his body with warmth, rendering the cold air powerless.
Dean’s voice startled him out of the depths of his despair, but he didn’t turn to face his brother. He shut his eyes against the inevitable presence of his brother’s influence in his mind, only to gasp his surprise when it didn’t come.
“I am so sorry this is happening.”
The sadness in Dean’s voice compelled him to turn. “It’s not your fault.”
Dean shook his head, an action in contrast with his words. “I should never have left.”
Mark looked away from the scrutiny in his brother’s eyes. “I don’t regret staying with him. If I hadn’t, my wolf would be gone.”
“You love him.”
It wasn’t a question. Still, he felt compelled to confirm it.
Dean moved closer to him, a small smile on his lips. “You are one lucky bastard.”
Mark frowned. “Seriously?” But even in the depths of despair, he couldn’t resist his brother’s charm.
“Yeah. Think about it. You get the Crown Prince of the Vampires. All that power...”
Mark shoved his brother, but even he couldn’t help joining in his smile.
“What? It’s true.” The brightness of Dean’s smile dimmed. “He’s coming back to you.”
He stared into the vastness of the compound, the faith he held onto too fragile. “You don’t know that.” His voice was a broken whisper, lost in the howling wind.
“Yes, I do. Because I’ve tried to kill him a thousand times and the motherfucker resisted every time.”
A laugh bubbled past the barrage of pain in his chest. Only his brother would draw laughter from the depths of pain.
Dean’s arm settled on his shoulders, its weight anchoring him in the present. “This is not that, ten years ago. Hey?” He waited for Mark to meet his eyes. “This time, you have an army ready to go to war for you. He will come back to you if I have to drag him out of hell by his hair.”
Mark nodded, his brother’s confidence giving him the strength to believe in the Queen’s unshakable conviction. He hoped Riley’s power was not an exaggeration. Dean would need it to travel to that void Riley had spoken of if he was going to keep his promise.
§
When he made it back to Caster’s side, careful to avoid the others and their scrutiny, he was surprised to find Damien and Marcus with him. The vampire he was unfamiliar with, held out his hand as he approached, and Mark accepted the gesture of friendship.
“I’ve sent for a small army. They will be here soon, and this place will be the fortress it needs to be.” Marcus said, his commanding presence hidden behind his softened tone, though Mark couldn’t have missed it if he tried.
“That’s not necessary, my brother keeps a lot of wolves here and—”
“He would kill us if anything happened to you.” Damien rose from the chair the Queen had occupied no more than two hours ago. His sadness was concealed behind the mask of calm he wore, but his features were so similar to Caster’s that Mark had little difficulty seeing past it.
Marcus smiled at him. “Yes, he would. I suspect the King would also have my head if anything happened to him or you. It’s my job to ensure your protection.”
Mark stepped away from the discomfort of Marcus’s increased scrutiny. “I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Marcus said, already following Damien toward the door. “Still, you are important to him, which makes you important to me.” He smiled, the intensity of his pale blue gaze softening. “I’m afraid my protection is mandatory.”
His soft tone and choice of words notwithstanding, Mark was sure he meant to provide that protection even against his will.
He’d met many dominants in his lengthy existence, but never one whose dominance sucked all the air out of the room.
It was unsettling to be in Marcus’s presence, and he sighed his relief when he left.
Mark didn’t know what time it was. It had been dark when he’d stepped outside to get away from the others.
He cared little for much else as he arranged the covers around Caster, took off his shoes, and climbed next to him.
The expected curl of Caster’s arm around him, drawing him closer, was nonexistent. Would he ever feel it again?
Tears he thought had long dried itched to fall, but he sniffed them back. No crying. Not this time. This time, he would do everything in his power to win, to put his heart back together. If Dean and the Queen could believe, so would he.
“Marcus is scary.” It was strange talking to someone who wouldn’t reciprocate, who perhaps couldn’t hear him, but Riley had said it would help. “Who is he to you?”
Caster said nothing. He didn’t even move, but Mark’s determination to reach him was now solid in its conviction.
“He says he’ll protect me by force. Can you believe that?” He snuggled deeper into Caster’s solid form, sleep calling to him, although he was certain he would fight it to the end. “Please come back. I’m not sure the wolves will like his small army. They will kill each other without you.”
He should care. Vampires and werewolves were far from friends, and Marcus’s army would not be welcome.
The threat of a small skirmish could not be overlooked, but he closed his eyes.
Everything that mattered to him was in this room.
If Caster didn’t come back to him, he’d have no reason for a continued existence.
The burden that pain would bring would be too much to bear.