CHAPTER THREE
Wyatt was shocked when the Master assigned him as the personal guard for the Necromancer. He didn't know anything about the man's beliefs or power, just the definition of the word Necromancer, which was honestly a bit unsettling.
He wasn't a social person and was not good with one-on-one interactions, but still he put him in charge of the very important man's care and protection.
He did not find him unpleasant, and he seemed easy to be around.
It was just the two of them in the silence of the watchtower room, and it felt okay apart from a weird familiarity.
He'd never met this man before; he was certain of that.
It wasn’t long after he took up his post by the door that he felt the shift in the air and the scent of scorching fire the smell of burning wood overlaying the smell of evergreen hemlock fresh and clean. The combination was like a cleansing.
The man was standing by the window with his back to the door, his brocaded cloak covering him completely, but there was a flicker of something there: a connection, a destiny. He stood there watching him silently standing by the window, and the answer came to him with a devastating clarity.
The Necromancer was his beloved. How... just how did Fate figure this would work?
The man was powerful, historic, esteemed, and Wyatt was just a vampire who failed to save his Coven.
He pushed the realization out of his mind forcefully.
This was not the time to be having the thoughts that were beginning to crowd his mind. This cannot work.
Wyatt quickly rolled everything he was feeling inside and stuffed it as deep as his psyche would allow. This man did not need or want the added upheaval of a vampire bond. He was called to destroy the shadows and save the population; he had no time for Fate's craziness.
The man turned toward him, looking him over head to toe, with no judgment appearing on his face.
The contact, be it only visual, added to Wyatt's inner turmoil.
Fate had truly fucked with him; was it punishment?
Wyatt couldn't take his eyes off him he was extraordinary his stance, his posture, his face so handsome.
His dark hair hung in loose curls, and his eyes were a vivid green that seemed to see everything.
He was ancient, and yet he looked so young and vibrant. He was stunning.
He introduced himself, acknowledged him with a nod, and then turned back to the window, and they stood in silence.
It was not uncomfortable; it was companionable in a strange sense.
It felt to him like two people who had known each other for a while, just spending time together.
It was hard to describe the feelings rushing through him.
First and foremost, his vampire was surging, demanding that he make himself known to his beloved.
He calmed and took the time to study his beloved in more detail.
The hood and cloak shielded him, but his form and discipline were obvious.
He was impressive, and he radiated an energy that felt soothing to Wyatt, or perhaps it was the bond he was feeling.
Atticus made no indication that he was aware of their connection, so Wyatt had no intention of bringing it to light.
He tried to push it all away again, but the draw he felt was difficult to control, and denial was even harder.
He wasn't sure how long he could resist.
He sent a text and ordered a light lunch for Atticus, realizing the man would probably forget to eat.
When it arrived, he seemed pleased and thanked him for the courtesy.
Wyatt was shocked at how much his gratitude affected him and made him feel valued by his beloved.
The best was when he pushed off the hood of his cloak, and Wyatt got a look at the handsome man underneath.
The glimpse had shown long curls and beautiful eyes, but the complete picture was breathtaking. Long, gorgeous curls hung down his back. He was a classic beauty. His handsome face held a tenderness even though he possessed a firm jaw and solid bone structure.
His lips were full, and he smiled at Wyatt; the smile went through him like a spear, waking every emotion and need within him.
The longer he was in this man's presence the deeper his regard became and the ache in his heart became fierce.
The only word he could think of to truly describe the man was stunning.
Everything about him made you stop and stare and appreciate.
They had lunch together at his firm request and it was easy and free.
Wyatt kept to his professionalism as best he could even though he ached to ask questions that he had no right to ask.
His distance and formality must have sent a strange message, so Atticus followed up his basic inquiries by asking him a very blunt question.
"Do I scare you, Wyatt?" He asked and then followed with an explanation of his unsettling nature which Wyatt did not feel.
He wasn't afraid; he only worried that he was not enough and that he would have to remain silent and watch his one chance at a full and loving existence walk away from him.
But he could not tell him that he had no right; he had to keep his distance.
"No, sir, I am not scared. I find your company pleasing." He added the last because he had to; he had to say something that was from his heart. He smiled; it was small, just a slight turning of the edges of his mouth, but Wyatt saw it, and he felt it spear through his heart.
"Call me Atticus." Wyatt nodded and felt the gentle touch of acceptance.
They simply looked at one another for several seconds.
Wyatt could not read the expression, but he appeared to be looking for something.
Abruptly, Atticus grabbed the map from the table, rolled it up, and headed for the door.
"I need to walk the city." He said. "I need to feel the tracks of this thing and gauge its power. "
Wyatt opened the door and followed him out.
Finally, he had something concrete to do, something to take his mind off Atticus and their doomed, fated connection.
Walking the city and guarding the man would keep him busy and focused on the job.
It was late afternoon, and walking the city would take a few hours; they would be out into the night, so Wyatt made sure he had his weapons positioned and ready because nothing was going to touch this man.
Whatever was infecting this town was not going to touch Atticus.
***
“The Necromancer has left the grounds. Wyatt has taken him to town.” Ismael reported to Louis in his office.
"Wyatt will keep him safe," Louis stated and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out at the grounds.
"Wyatt still believes he has a lot to prove, but he has nothing to prove to anyone," Ismael said and walked over to stand with Louis.
"He doesn't remember all the people he saved, the humans and the vulnerable; he only remembers the people he couldn't save," Louis added with a shake of his head.
"He was a commander and believed he should have been able to do more.
His Coven was destroyed, and his Master killed, and it was not his fault.
They were overwhelmed, and he did all that he could.
He fought heroically and killed many of their enemies, but in the end they were outnumbered. "
"Someday maybe he will accept that, but not today, I fear." Ismael glanced up at Louis. "Why did you put him as protector for the Necromancer?"
"They are alike in many ways. Atticus wears a shroud of inadequacy much like Wyatt.
I felt it when he first arrived; he grieves the loss of his brothers and feels he doesn't deserve to be the last man standing.
I thought they might be good for one another.
" Louis looked over at Ismael, who gave a slight smile and a nod.
“They might be.” He agreed.
“How are patrols?” Louis got back to business
"We have the town covered; no further victims found, but we'll know more this evening. The lights and sound are working. Reports show only two victims were found last night, and patrols were rerouted to those areas." Ismael gave the facts.
"The sooner that Atticus can put an end to this blight, the better," Louis commented.
"He seems competent," Ismael added.
"Yes, yes, he does. He's a very powerful man"
***
Atticus changed from his beautiful ornate cloak to a dark burgundy three-piece suit that fit him like a second skin.
He was stunningly elegant, and he swept his long curls back with a loose tie; everything about him looked effortless, and everything about him made Wyatt sweat with a bone-deep desire.
They started downtown at the center and worked their way outward.
Atticus got considerable attention from the locals as he made his way through town.
The appreciative looks were beginning to get on Wyatt's nerves; he didn't like men lusting over what belonged to him, but he had no right to object.
Atticus had no idea as to the connection between them; he did not feel the bond, and if he did, he was not saying anything.
Either way, the bond was sure to be denied.
"Have you lived in Mt. Pleasant a long time, Wyatt?
" Atticus asked while they walked side by side down the old, narrow concrete roadway that led to the hillside and the old cemetery.
They had encountered many DuCane guards and soldiers patrolling the town, but this corner was just outside the city limits.
Wyatt knew that Sheriff Keller was planning to set up a series of floodlights throughout the old cemetery just for good measure, but for now the area as far as he could see was not lighted.
"I have lived here for nearly two hundred years," Wyatt answered the question.
“Where did you live before Mt. Pleasant?”