12. Vasile
Chapter twelve
Vasile
I wake to a knock on the door, and for a moment, I do not know where I am. The bed is unfamiliar, the room dark but not in the same way as the shutters would have it at the clan house.
Someone knocks again. Bangs, rather. I scowl and climb out of the bed.
I am at the flat in Kieran and Sam’s building. I glance at my phone. It is almost two in the afternoon, which means I have been asleep for four or five hours. I know Kieran had the alpha meet to attend today, but I am certain he would not immediately arrive back and speak to me—he and Sam will have to discuss what they’ve learnt and share it with the rest of their pack.
The banging gets louder, and I growl, clenching my teeth. I went to sleep only in pyjama bottoms, and I don’t bother dressing more as I stalk through the living room. Whoever is here can fuck off. I am exhausted, irritated, and—
Surprised.
When I yank the door open, Deacon is standing on the other side, chest rising and falling in what looks like fury. I glare up at him. What does he have to be angry about? He woke me from a dreamless sleep—from the first few undisturbed hours I’ve had in weeks.
“What are you thinking?” he hisses, then pushes past me and into the flat. I glance out into the hall. No one has emerged, but I wisely decide to close the door anyway. I don’t doubt his knocking has disturbed someone.
When I turn, Deacon is pacing in front of the sofa. “What are you talking about?”
“I—You—You know what I’m talking about! The bond. Why are you thinking about reigniting the bond?”
I let out a heavy breath, rubbing my temples. This is not worth waking up for. “We discussed this already,” I say, trying to inject some patience into my voice. “If we have no other choice, then recreating the bond that existed when Tamesis turned me should help us find him. Ophelia gave me the information I need.”
“You said you wouldn’t do it!”
I frown, tilting my head to one side. “I said no such thing.” I know I didn’t. Deacon wanted me to, yes, but I am not about to promise him things I cannot commit to—especially not when it comes to this.
“What has even brought this on?” I push my hair back from my face, suddenly wishing I’d taken the time to get dressed. The living room is cold, and my hair likely a mess.
Not that Deacon’s is faring much better with the way he’s running his hands through it. His suit is finely made, but his tie is askew and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone.
“Kieran mentioned it at the alpha meet. He told all the alphas you’re here, by the way. Says we need to trust them to do the right thing.”
I shrug. The hunters already know I’m here. Moreau knows where I am. Why shouldn’t the wolves know, too? And if it means they’ll trust Kieran—and by extension, Deacon, because I do not think for a second that him appointing Kieran as an alpha has been without consequence—a little more, then it can only be a good thing.
“Well, I am not about to go down the hall and ask Ophelia to perform the spell right now,” I say, irritation colouring my voice. “Not that she could. She wants to do more research before she will even agree that she is capable.”
“Well, she’ll get her answers.” Deacon lets out a disgruntled huff. “Kieran asked for help from any mages in the packs.”
“Are there many of them?”
Deacon shrugs. “I’d say a few. Since the mage wars, the packs have kept their own magic users close. I don’t even know how many there are.”
Unsurprising. I shake my head. “Was there anything else, or can I go back to bed?”
“You can’t fight Tamesis like this.”
“Like what?”
“By putting yourself in danger!”
I sigh and cross over to the door. “I’m not having this argument with you, Deacon. Not right now. Nothing is happening. It is simply an option for us to explore.”
“One that you’re going to follow.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and I resolutely ignore the way the shoulders of his jacket stretch, too. “I know you, Vasile. You’ve got this idea in your head, and you won’t stop until you’ve followed it through.”
I scowl. “You know me, do you?” The words hurt, sharp and cutting as they make their way onto my tongue, but I throw them at him anyway. “You know what I’m going to do? How could you? You knew me for two decades. You haven’t spoken to me for a hundred years!”
Deacon takes a step back, eyes widening. “Vasile, I—”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him. Whatever it takes. It’s my fault he’s here, so I’m the one who is to make that choice.”
Deacon growls and shakes his head. “Vasile, you can’t.”
“Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do!” I walk away from the door, stalking towards him. He doesn’t move, posture firm like he’s glued to the carpet. “I can work with the mages to control the bond. I won’t let him control me. Besides, it’s not like he managed to do that before, when he—”
I cut myself off, but not before Deacon’s face falls. Silver floods his irises, his wolf pushing to the surface, and the growl that rumbles through his chest is frightening in its viciousness. “Just because I failed you—”
“Failed?” It is not his fault that Tamesis took control. He never knew how to fight him.
I don’t manage to say any more. Deacon grabs me around the middle and hauls me close, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I clutch his shoulders, expecting the touch of his tongue or teeth, but he simply breathes for a moment, his grip on me so tight it hurts, before he lets go and shoves me onto the sofa.
I land with a bounce, and he grabs my legs, yanking them down so I’m flat on my back. I breathe hard as he leans over me, one knee planted between my thighs, one hand next to my head. He might not have shifted, but he’s more wolf than man right now, running on instinct.
“Vasile,” he growls, and I should tell him to stop, should kick him out so I can go back to sleep, but there’s something vulnerable even in that sound.
“Deacon, we should talk before we—”
He rubs his hand over my cock, which is hardening in my pyjama bottoms, and I make a strangled noise, tipping my head back. His hot breath is close to my throat for a moment, but then he moves back, tugging the bottoms down until my cock is exposed to him.
“Deacon.” He strokes his fingertips over my belly. “Deacon, we—”
“Do you want to talk?” He raises an eyebrow at me.
I let out a growl of my own. My fangs drop, and I bare them at him, gratified by the way he swallows. “No. Fucking touch me already.”
He does as he’s told. His hand wraps around my cock and I hold on to his forearm as he strokes me to full hardness. Why is he still wearing his fucking suit? I want to tear it to pieces—it’s well-made, but it wouldn’t take much effort—but I don’t want him to bitch about it, after.
He would, too. I can’t pretend I know any more about him than he knows about me, but I know that.
Deacon tightens his grip, flicking his thumb over the head of my cock, and I sit up slightly, fumbling with his belt. He freezes, and I pause too, glancing up at him.
“This goes both ways,” I say. “I want you, too.”
His grey eyes search my face. What is he looking for? It doesn’t matter. He finds it, whatever it is, and nods. I hiss out a gratified breath and unfasten his belt, then his trousers.
He’s as hard as I am, as heavy and thick as I remember. Fuck, I want him in my mouth. Want him in me.
I don’t think either of us is ready for that.
Even if we were, I don’t think we’d last that long.
I want to kiss him, too, but when I glance at his mouth, he moves his head back slightly, subtly, and I tamp down on the disappointment that rises in my chest. Never mind, then. I urge him up and over me, so we’re resting together, and take both of our cocks in my hand.
Deacon groans in my ear when I stroke us both. He’s holding himself up just a little—no need, it’s not like he can crush me—and I retract my fangs and bite down on his shoulder. It feels safe with his jacket and shirt in the way, but his hips jerk all the same and the broken sound he makes has my cock leaking.
“Vas,” he moans, now thrusting into my grip. His mouth is so close to my ear. I want him to lick me there. To kiss. To bite. I want his lips on more than just my cock.
“That’s it, my wolf,” I say. “Fuck my fist. Show me how much you want it.”
His next moan is broken. Almost a sob. He pants in my ear, the soft fabric of his trousers rubbing against my inner thighs as he thrusts forward. Each move is powerful, forceful, and I fight the urge to spread my legs further and beg him to take me.
Instead, I tighten my grip and focus on my cock, too. We’re both slick, desperate, and I bite his shoulder again when pleasure sweeps down my spine, pooling in my belly. I’m so close, but I didn’t get to touch him at all last time, and I’m not going over the edge first.
I run my free hand through his hair, tugging until he’s looking down at me. His expression is almost pained, eyes hazy with pleasure. I stare at his slack mouth for a moment too long, fighting the urge to lean in and kiss and bite and lick—
“So fucking pretty,” I growl. “My wolf. Keep going. Take your pleasure.”
He groans, and his eyes roll back, and my stomach jerks when his cum lands on it, thick ropes of white. I follow him over the edge, undone by the look on his face.
Deacon collapses on top of me and I let out a grunt, wiping my sticky hand on the back of his jacket. The entire outfit is ruined now, anyway, considering he just landed in the wet spot.
We lie there for a while. I tease strands of dark hair between my fingers, and when his shoulders stiffen, I let out a little sigh.
“Come on,” I say. “Get up.”
He frowns but does as he’s told. I kick off my pyjama bottoms before I stand, then grab his hand and tug him through to the bathroom. His frown deepens when I turn on the shower.
“Vasile—”
“Strip.” There’s no room for disobedience in my tone. Still, things are different between us now, our dynamic fundamentally changed, and so I feel the moment where he decides to give in, his jacket hitting the floor first, followed by his shirt and trousers.
I don’t look back. I climb into the shower, leaving the door open, and Deacon joins me a few seconds later. He crowds up against me, hands on my hips, and when I glance up at him, a question in my eyes, his smile is sheepish.
“Fucking cold out there.”
The laugh that escapes me surprises us both, I think, and his hands tighten their grip. I pick up the shampoo, twisting so he’s under the spray, and he protests only briefly before he surrenders, letting me wash his hair and rinse it. The shower gel is next. I cover my hands with it, running them over every inch of his body, and though he groans and his cock is stiff, there’s no urgency in either of us.
I don’t kiss him when I stroke his cock, even though I want to. I run my free hand over his chest instead, pressing my forehead against one pec, and he lets out a strained grunt before he comes.
He reaches for me, but I grab his hand, and he frowns when he looks down and I’m not hard. “I’m fine,” I say and mean it. “Turn around.”
I massage the tension out of his shoulders, running my hands over the strong planes of his back. Showers weren’t a thing when we were together, but even still, I never looked after him like this. I don’t know why. I can’t imagine, in this moment, why I wouldn’t spend every evening worshipping this man, proving to him that he is the most important creature I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
We’re silent as we dry off, and I lean back against the sink for a moment, watching him.
“I wasn’t lying,” I say, and Deacon glances up from where he’s grimacing at the stain on his shirt. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him. He went too far so long ago. I have to do it.”
Deacon moves closer, crowding me against the sink. “What if that ends you, too?”
What if it does? Would Deacon be worse off for it? Perhaps. But the rest of the city? Certainly not. Anger tenses his every muscle, undoing all the relaxing work of the orgasms and shower, and I sigh.
I’m surprised when his arms go around me, and I bury my face in the side of his throat. Can I scent him like this? Will he go back to the packs smelling of me?
“Fine,” he says, voice firm. “You do that, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive.”
I lean back, trying to look him in the face. “Deacon, what happened before—”
He presses his face to the top of my head, and when he steps back, I let go. “You should rest,” he says, tugging his trousers back on. “And I need to leave. Got a lot to do.”
I watch him dress, covering all the parts of him I so desperately want to uncover again. “We have too much responsibility to promise each other things like that.”
He fastens the final button on his shirt and slings his tie around his neck but leaves it loose. “Does that matter? I’ll promise you anyway. I’ll look out for you, Vas. Always. Whether you like it or not.”
He grins in the face of my sputter, gripping my chin briefly before he leaves the bathroom. I stay where I am until I hear the front door close, then leave the bathroom myself and crawl back into bed.
Responsibilities. What are mine? I turn my face into the pillow and make an irritated sound. I never wanted to be crai, not really. I was a threat, and the easiest way to declaw me was to give me power. Same as Moreau, it seems, and now we’ve both been ousted. We’re both dangerous.
Deacon? I’m not wrong. Deacon’s always been a leader. Always been good . Mate or not, why else would I have stopped in my tracks at the sight of him? Why would I have followed him around when he was hardly more than a pup, hanging on his every word?
He’s the only one of us who was chosen because he was the right choice. Truly. And I can’t risk everyone who relies on him losing him. Not because of me.