16. Lane
SIXTEEN
LANE
Lane jolted awake. Rowan was tense and trembling in his arms, his agonized growls filling the dark room. Another dream.
Lane tightened his grip and spoke into Rowan’s ear. “Wake up. I’ve got you.”
He shuddered, and a moment later, his body went lax. “Lane?” It came out confused and small.
“I’m here.” He kissed Rowan’s neck. Rowan arched into it, making Lane’s chest expand.
“That’s better,” Rowan murmured, snuggling closer.
“Need more?”
Rowan nodded, gripping Lane’s arm. “Make me forget.”
Lane did it gladly, kissing Rowan harder, running a hand over his chest and stomach to his soft cock. He circled Rowan, earning a sharply inhaled breath and a tiny thrust of his hips. Lane worked him until he was stiff. “This enough?”
“No,” Rowan panted. “More, please?”
Lane nipped his shoulder and grabbed the lube. With a slick hand, he stroked Rowan until precum beaded at his tip, and he couldn’t seem to suppress his soft little moans. “How about now?”
“Need more.” Rowan sounded floaty, miles away from whatever dream had hold of him. Bright and needy and perfect.
He lit a fire in Lane’s soul.
Lane slicked his own cock and slipped it between Rowan’s ass cheeks, sliding along his crease and nudging behind his balls.
“Yes,” Rowan panted. “Fuck me.”
Lane pulled Rowan’s hips back and pushed forward, stroking Rowan’s cock as he buried his face in the crook of his neck. “Tell me you’re needy.”
Rowan whimpered.
“Tell me,” Lane ordered.
Rowan squirmed, thrusting into Lane’s hand. “I’m…I’m so needy, Lane. Desperate. Please. Don’t let go.” His words were heavy with emotion, tone downright addictive.
“Why would I let you go when you’re fucking perfect like this?”
Rowan came on a moan, lithe body arching. Lane worked him through it, resisting the urge to speed up his thrusts. He took his time, cock sliding between Rowan’s cheeks, savoring each little whimper Rowan gave him.
Lane tipped Rowan’s head and claimed his mouth. When he finally found his release, he swore nothing existed but them, together, and he had a feeling Rowan would have said the same.
When Lane woke the next morning, dread seemed to seep into the room alongside the sun. What if they couldn’t get a handle on this situation? Not the curse, not the ferals, not the Hillmans. He wished things were different. Calmer. Then he and Rowan could focus on each other.
If Rowan wanted to. He’d opened up more than Lane ever hoped, but how could they figure out where this growing trust took them while caught in the curse’s clutches?
They needed the option of walking away from each other before they could choose to be together.
Otherwise, this might all be a coping mechanism, and once it was no longer necessary, they’d have nothing left.
Thoughts swirling, Lane took care of his morning routine, and when he emerged from the bathroom, he was greeted by Rowan’s familiar stony expression.
He was in coven leader mode.
“Has something happened?” Lane asked.
“Nicole thinks they can finally break the curse.”
Lane’s heart skipped. Please let her be right. “Let’s go.”
He couldn’t read Rowan at all as they crossed the hall.
A few days ago, Lane would have been frustrated by Rowan’s serious, unemotional side, not realizing it was how he found strength and readied himself to take control.
It was what he needed to protect those around him, and Lane loved his quiet strength as much as he loved the Rowan who needed softness and reassurance.
Loved? Lane’s mind stumbled over the word. Was he falling that hard? He couldn’t think deeply about it now. Not until the curse was gone.
Nicole, Vera, and Hunter met them in Rowan’s office, leaving the clinic for Emile. Hunter had stayed all night, keeping an eye on Emile’s progress.
“How is he?” Rowan asked him.
“Healing. Emile’s heart is beating again. He’s on some heavy potions to keep him sedated, but he’ll recover in time.”
“Until then, I’m keeping the casino closed except for coven gatherings, since it’s on the same floor as the clinic.” Rowan frowned. “I don’t like how close the Hillman witch came to Emile, even if he wasn’t after him.”
The Hillmans couldn’t have known about Emile’s weakened state, and the second intruder didn’t seem to have been targeting the clinic. He’d bypassed it and been found in the stairwell, but caution was best while everything was up in the air.
Lane still had no idea what the Hillmans had been searching for, Rowan either, as far as Lane knew.
“Right,” Nicole said, gathering their attention. “I believe our problem is the curse’s inherent need to feed to completion. That’s why halting the feeding cycle didn’t work. Until the curse kills what it’s latched onto, it can’t be stopped completely.”
Lane’s stomach dropped, and he collapsed into the couch, the leather cold and slippery beneath him. “So it’s incurable?”
“No.” Both witches shook their heads vehemently. “We need to give it something else to feed on,” Vera explained.
Rowan’s neutral expression turned wary. “Like what?”
“Itself.” Nicole grinned, triumphant. “We’ve worked out a spell that should force it to feed off its own power.”
“And once it devours itself, it’ll be over?” Lane kept his hope in check. If this didn’t work, it didn’t seem like there’d be another option.
“That’s the plan,” Vera agreed.
Rowan settled beside Lane, his presence sturdy as a pillar. “You really think this will work? There’s nothing in the magic preventing it?”
“Not specifically,” Nicole said. “It’ll be more of a challenge than stopping the feeding cycle, but it’s definitely possible.”
Rowan looked at Lane questioningly. “What do you say?”
His fear from yesterday returned. This could go wrong and leave him to die, but they couldn’t stay like this. “I’m ready. Are you?”
Rowan nodded and took Lane’s hand. “I think I have to be.”
Nicole and Vera stepped forward and placed a hand each on Lane and Rowan’s heads. They began to chant. Magic thrummed through Lane, much as it had last time. His stomach was in knots, but no pain came. It seemed like nothing was happening beyond the tingle of active magic flying around the room.
What if it wasn’t working? Lane’s hopes crashed, and Rowan stiffened, his grip on Lane tightening.
The chanting stopped.
“I feel something…” Rowan’s gaze swept over Lane.
Vera nodded, her eyes closed and face twisted in concentration. “I can sense the spell working. The curse is feeding off its own magic now.”
Lane experienced nothing other than nerves, the air caught in his lungs.
“It’s not feeding off me.” Rowan’s hard expression gave way to something open and bright. “My hunger is fading. Really fading, like it hasn’t since it took hold.”
His eyes glowed, flashing bright, and his fangs lengthened. For a split second, he looked hungry despite what he’d said. Then, he smiled, and relief shone through.
A wrenching feeling took hold of Lane’s insides and pulled sharply upwards. He gasped. “What was that? Is it gone?” He felt nothing except nervous jitters. “Rowan, how do you feel?”
“Better. Not hungry at all, thank all that’s damned.”
Nicole and Vera shared triumphant looks before their gazes slid out of focus, a sign they were silently assessing them with magic. After a long moment, Nicole announced, “It’s gone.”
“No trace of the curse remains,” Vera agreed.
“Hell yeah.” Hunter did a fist pump. “You two are brilliant. I’m so glad you didn’t need me.”
“Me too,” Lane said with all his heart.
Rowan stood. “Thank you. I can’t say it enough. Make sure you get some much-deserved rest. All three of you. I’ll let the coven know the curse is dealt with.” He clapped Nicole, then Vera on the shoulder. “You have my unending gratitude, and Hunter, thank you for everything.”
They accepted his thanks and departed. It was over. Lane was safe and no longer one wrong step away from death.
An awkwardness filled the office. He could leave.
Rowan settled behind his desk, poised as ever, and typed out a message on his phone.
Lane couldn’t help thinking of him laid out on the wooden surface, stuffed full of his cock and begging for someone to take care of him.
It felt like a dream, and not in a good way. Like it had never happened at all.
There was no way to know if the feeling was mutual. Rowan’s face was impassive, and Lane remembered why he’d hated this blankness. It left him alone. Unsure.
Rowan set the phone aside and considered Lane with detached authority, the barest hint of curiosity peeking through.
Had all the emotion he’d shown been the curse wearing him down? Had he not wanted to let Lane in? His insides curdled.
“Will you return to your coven to warn your father?” Rowan asked.
Cold water crashed over the remainder of Lane’s warm feelings. “He won’t believe me without the recording I lost.”
Rowan’s face twisted in sudden anger. “Even after nearly dying? I’ll back you up, tell him what I witnessed. The Hillmans came for me. He has to see sense.”
Lane’s gaze slid from Rowan to the window and settled on the distant buildings. Would his father believe him if he explained the curse? Part of him couldn’t face the possibility of Marshall denying him. It would be devastating, and Lane couldn’t bear giving his father the chance to hurt him again.
“We don’t have to talk to Marshall if you don’t want to, Lane.
” Rowan’s softened tone recalled his attention, and he found Rowan’s stony expression had cracked, revealing something gentle.
“I’m not asking you to go. Not at all. I’d like you to stay and help bring the Hillman business to an end.
I only wondered what you wanted to do about your coven’s involvement with them.
It’s what set you on this path in the first place. ”
Not asking him to go… Lane felt wobbly as it sank in.
He collected himself. “The Blackburns aren’t my coven anymore.” The truth of his words hit him right in the center of the chest.
Rowan took this revelation in stride, without reaction, and once again, his lack of emotion gave Lane the strength.