EPILOGUE
Three months later…
Caster leaned against the door jamb, watching Mark battle the numerous documents strewn all over the tiny table in their room. They’d relocated to one of Damien’s apartments in Paris when Mark had grown tired of the Queen’s over-mothering.
“Stop it!” A smile hid behind that warning, but he didn’t look up from the document he studied. “I can feel you watching me. You’re not helping.”
“I love you!”
Mark looked at him then, the paper he’d been studying slipping from his grasp to join the pile on the small table.
He bit his lip, and Caster was overcome with the desire to replace Mark’s teeth with his own.
The words ordering him to his knees remained clogged in his throat, as Mark rose from the couch, the reducing space between them crackling with the energy of their uncontainable desire.
He straightened when Mark’s hands landed on his chest, unable to contain his moan when his eyes followed Mark’s tongue gliding over his lower lip.
“I love you!” Those lips formed the perfect words.
His heart stopped, a moment passed, and his desire took over in the moment the echo of his rapid heartbeat reached his ears. He grabbed Mark’s waist, his hold tightening, and they crashed into that desire, the battle to subdue each other contained in the intensity of their kiss.
He reversed their position, pushing Mark against the door’s frame, pinning him there.
Mark’s exquisite surrender called to the animal in him as his body went slack, opening up to Caster’s desire for more.
But the memory of the gash on his chest, the distant thud of his heart the day he’d almost lost him, interfered with his desire.
He lost a bit of the fire, his desperate need losing its edge.
The kiss became less of a battle and more of a declaration of his protection, of his love.
The change became palpable in the tension that broke Mark’s surrender.
Caster’s fear had reduced their once delicious frantic race to their pleasure to subdued, tender lovemaking.
Their pleasure when they found it was still as explosive as it had always been, but something was missing, and until now, Mark’s patience had been a gift.
The tension hardened his muscles, his surrender a distant memory, and he tore his lips from Caster’s, the tender moment crashing into a million pieces between them.
Anger, almost furious in its intensity, raced across a mind he’d left wide open, and he pushed at Caster’s shoulder.
But the explosion Caster had hoped would awaken that desperation in him did not come.
Mark took a few steps away from him, further into the room, sighed, and returned to his papers.
Misplaced outrage tore through Caster. “Come here!” But even his dominance rang false, and Mark’s tilted head called him on the lie. He took a breath, reaching for that elusive side of him as he allowed fury to overcome him.
But Mark’s sigh stopped his pursuit. He looked him in the eye, the challenge in that stare unmistakable.
“You’re holding back.” Then he closed his eyes, his voice a tiny whisper.
“I love you. That will never stop. But you’re afraid that you’ll hurt me.”
He opened his eyes and patted the couch cushion next to him.
That love he spoke of filtered through his mind, a small smile where his fury had once been, and Caster accepted the offer.
“I don’t want to fight about it right now.” Mark indicated the papers, his sad resolve tearing at Caster’s heart. “Help me with this?”
Caster nodded, though he was certain Mark didn’t need his help.
They had purchased the island, even christened it Shadow Haven, and Mark’s excellent command of the logistics needed to create their new home had been the only fuel.
He smiled at him, sadness interfering with the genuine joy his smile often portrayed, and Caster’s self-hatred increased.
He’d denied it the last few months, but now that denial ebbed away.
Every time he allowed his all-consuming desire for Mark to the fore, the fear that any pain would trap him in his mind followed.
He’d tried, but he could not escape that fear.
His dominance hid behind it, and he failed Mark every time he failed to satisfy the exquisite surrender of his submission.
But Mark was a Masochist, pain the only avenue to the pleasure they both sought, and Caster feared any pain would send Mark back to that void, out of his reach.
He was trapped in the never-ending battle between his desire to please Mark and the fear of losing him again.
Mark reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I love you. Promise me you won’t forget that?”
The wretched self-hatred increased, but not enough to overcome his fear. He held his eyes shut. “I am doing my best.”
Mark interpreted his answer with the precision only a soulmate would have. “I know.” When he opened his eyes, the smile was brighter, with none of the sadness that had subdued it before.
A comfortable silence settled between them as Mark resumed his work.
Caster had vowed to stay away from all things Shadow Haven.
This was Mark’s baby. His hands were full with a Council he was doing his best to put together, anyway.
His uncle Mason had returned to himself thanks to Riley, and with Ethel’s dark magic gone, the effects of her spell had disappeared.
Uncle Lucien was still out there somewhere; all locator spells to find him failed, evidence that he was working with another witch, but Bastian remained their prisoner.
Mark had refused to be the one to decide his fate, and his father had agreed with Damien and Caster when they suggested that perhaps he could yet prove useful.
Dean had taken Zeke off somewhere… refusing to share the details.
But Caster didn’t worry about that. He trusted the Prime Alpha to keep that threat contained.
As his fingers found the strands of Mark’s soft hair almost absent of input from his mind, Caster reveled in his relaxation.
This was the third month of absolute silence, absolute safety, and zero threats.
The something sinister his mother had warned was coming remained on his mind, but even that was a distant concern.
Now if only he could find a way to overcome his fear of losing Mark and give in to their forever.
-THE END-
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