Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
It was the second time Nero woke with Casteel lying by his side, but somehow, he didn’t think this was merely sleep.
Nero blinked in the dim light, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings.
The last thing he remembered was lying in the wagon, each jolt sending fresh agony through his chest as they fled the city.
No, they'd arrived at the inn. Hadn't they?
Now he found himself in a small room, the air thick with the scent of herbs and something older, wilder—confusing.
Most alarming was Casteel's still form beside him on the narrow bed. His mate's face was ashen, lips tinged with an unnatural bluish pallor. Nero could sense him, but the connection felt...different. Changed in some fundamental way he couldn't articulate.
Stranger still was the sensation in his own body. The searing pain in his chest had diminished to a mild discomfort, and beneath that, a restless energy coursed through his veins. It reminded him of how Casteel had described the feeling just before transformation—a wild power straining for release.
Nero carefully pushed himself up, expecting the movement to trigger fresh agony. Instead, his body responded with surprising strength. The bandages around his chest were clean, no sign of the blood that had soaked through repeatedly during their escape.
"Casteel?" he whispered, touching his mate's face with trembling fingers. The skin felt cool, but not deathly so. "Wake up."
Through their bond, he sent a pulse of concern, of need. Casteel's consciousness flickered in response, but weakly, like a candle flame nearly guttered out.
The door opened quietly, and Eryken entered, his weathered face drawn with exhaustion and something that looked disturbingly like grief. When he saw Nero sitting upright, his eyes widened in momentary shock before his expression settled into grim resignation.
"It worked, then," the rebellion commander said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What worked?" Nero demanded, instinctively positioning himself between Eryken and Casteel's unconscious form. "What happened to him?"
Eryken approached slowly, hands slightly raised as if calming a wild animal. "How do you feel, Nero?"
"Like something's trying to claw its way out of my skin," Nero growled, and was startled by the rumbling undertone in his own voice. "What did you do to us?"
"Not me," Eryken said, settling heavily into a chair beside the bed. "The mountain healer. You were dying, Nero. The arrow wounds, the blood loss, the journey—your body couldn't endure it." His eyes shifted to Casteel. "He wouldn't accept that."
A cold dread settled in Nero's stomach. "What did he do?"
"What you would have done for him," Eryken replied simply. "Whatever was necessary."
The restless energy beneath Nero's skin surged again, stronger this time. He felt his fingernails lengthen into sharp points, the transformation occurring without conscious thought. He stared at his hands in shock, watching as the nails retracted to normal human shape when his surprise ebbed.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered.
"The mountain healer used blood magic," Eryken explained, his voice heavy with the weight of what had transpired. "Ancient magic, from before the temples tried to control such things. She created a channel between you and Casteel."
"A channel for what?" Nero demanded, though the energy coursing through his veins told him more than words could.
"His wolf-soul," Eryken said simply. "He gave it to you, Nero. All of it. The silver wolf that made him the prophesied savior—he surrendered it completely to save your life."
The truth hit Nero like a blow. The restless energy, the heightened senses, the way his body had healed so rapidly—these weren't just side effects of their bond. They were manifestations of Casteel's gift, his sacrifice.
"No," Nero breathed, turning back to his unconscious mate with horror dawning in his eyes. "He wouldn't. He couldn't."
"He did," Eryken confirmed. "The healer warned him of the price. To save you, he would have to surrender what made him special—what made him valuable to the prophecy, to the rebellion, to Doran's plans. He chose without hesitation."
Nero's hand found Casteel's, fingers intertwining as he searched their bond for any trace of the wolf. There was nothing—only the pure, human essence of the man he loved.
"Will he survive?" The question tore from Nero's throat, raw with fear.
"The healer believes so," Eryken replied. "But he'll never shift again. The silver wolf is gone from him—and now resides in you."
As if responding to those words, the energy surged within Nero once more.
This time, he didn't fight it. He let the silver power flow through him, feeling his body respond with an internal transformation that should have been impossible.
His senses sharpened dramatically—he could hear conversations three rooms away, smell the individual components of the healing poultices on his chest, see dust motes dancing in the pre-dawn light with perfect clarity.
And yet he had the discipline to remain human.
He knew it would take nothing to shift fully.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," Nero said, his voice breaking. "He was the one—the Silver Wolf. The savior from the prophecy."
"Perhaps," Eryken said, studying Nero with calculating eyes, "the prophecy was less specific than Doran led everyone to believe. Perhaps it spoke only of a silver wolf, not who would carry it."
The implications were staggering. If the wolf-soul could transfer between bonded mates, then the prophecy might still be fulfilled—but with Nero himself as the vessel rather than Casteel. The thought terrified him almost as much as the prospect of losing his mate.
"Did you know if you died Casteel would likely follow?"
Nero sent Eryken such a death glare at the implication Casteel was just saving his own arse, Eryken took a step backwards, raising his hands in either surrender or apology.
"I never wanted this power," Nero whispered, his enhanced hearing picking up the sound of approaching hoofbeats on the road outside—still distant but coming closer.
"Well now you have it," Eryken said, though his tone suggested he understood the complexity of what had transpired. "The question is what you'll do with it."
Before Nero could respond, Casteel stirred beside him. His eyelids fluttered, then opened slowly, revealing blue eyes that seemed somehow dimmer than before—as if a light that had always burned within them had been extinguished.
"Nero?" Casteel's voice was barely audible, but it carried such relief that Nero's heart clenched painfully. "You're alive."
"Thanks to you," Nero replied, helping Casteel sit up against the pillows. "What you did—the sacrifice—"
"Was worth it," Casteel interrupted. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if expecting something that didn't come. "I can't feel it anymore. The wolf. It's gone."
Through their bond, Nero felt an overwhelming sense of connection, as vibrant and alive as the wolf within him.
The shared emotions and mutual understanding that had once defined their relationship now surged through him with renewed intensity.
For Nero, the bond remained unbreakable, a powerful force that tied him to Casteel with unyielding strength.
But he knew Casteel, without the wolf, felt diminished. "The bond," Casteel whispered, "it's different."
"The wolf-soul was what made your connection so strong," Eryken explained gently. "Without it..."
"Without it, I'm nothing more than someone…" Casteel stopped, his voice hollow with realization. Eryken left, clearly thinking this moment should be private.
Nero reached for Casteel with urgency, trying to convey reassurance through their bond.
To him, the emotions still flowed freely, vibrant and potent.
"This doesn't change anything," Nero insisted, feeling the truth settle within him like an unwavering flame.
"Magic or no magic, we are still bonded—that hasn't changed.
" He felt so much more, but now wasn't the moment for declarations.
Then another unwelcome thought came. If Casteel wasn't dependent on Nero for his life, would he stay?
Or would he decide being saddled with an old man was too much of a price to pay?
Casteel's eyes searched Nero's face with heartbreaking intensity. "Are you certain? How can you be sure what you feel is real, and what was just the compulsion of the bond?"
Nero smiled. “And you? How do you know the same?” Casteel’s eyes shimmered and Nero pulled him close, his chest wound barely twinging.
“I used to feel the same as you are feeling now,” he explained. “But I didn’t have the experience of the power you have given me. You did, so it’s bound to feel diminished even if it isn't, and for that I’m sorry.”
“No,” Casteel pressed his fingers to Nero’s lips. “Don’t apologize. I would do it again in a heartbeat.” Casteel hesitated. "You're free."
Nero frowned. "Free?"
"The transfer changed the bond. You aren't dependent on me for your life. You won't get sick—"
I don't want to be free, Nero wanted to shout. But did Casteel? Before he could say more, the door burst open.
“The Silver Guard are nearly here,” Lucan said. “We have to go now.”
Nero didn’t hesitate, springing into action and scooping Casteel up as they ran after Lucan, leaving all doubts behind. Their bond was still strong in Nero's heart, and it was unthinkable to imagine any other reality.