CHAPTER 36
Caster’s intention as they’d undressed and walked into the massive bathroom had been to get clean before finding Riley to continue the fight.
He was unsure how a simple need to reassure Mark that he was not harmed had led to their most explosive lovemaking session yet.
He’d been overcome with the need to fuck, and Mark, in his usual surrender, had embraced that animal in him with little resistance.
Mark had reveled in it, and now half an hour after he’d come down from the heights of his surrender, Caster was once again battling the need to tear his clothes off, plunge back into him and never leave.
“Stop!” Mark’s smile hid behind the warning, but it was there.
Caster pushed off the wall he’d sought as an anchor to keep from giving in to that base desire as he watched Mark dress with the delicate care he seemed to accord every action. “Stop what?”
Mark’s smile lit his face. “Looking at me like that.” He stepped back when Caster advanced into his space. “We have a lot to do.”
Their eyes met in the tiny space between them.
Caster could have him on the bed in half a second, and Mark knew it, seemed to revel in it.
Instead, he kept his movements slow as he advanced further still, smiling when Mark sighed, all pretenses of resistance slipping away as his hands found Caster’s chest.
The desperate need for him hummed in the background, but Caster’s touch on the loose strands of his hair on his forehead was a slight caress. “I love you. You know that, right?”
Mark sucked in a breath and nodded, the movement of his hands over Caster’s chest a distraction they both didn’t need.
“Promise me you’ll never forget.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, the burden of those words a little too much to bear given the threat on their love.
Mark caught his gaze, the promise of an eternity flashing in those eyes. “I swear it.”
The kiss was a gentle brush of the lips.
But Mark’s total acceptance took over, and the niggling desperate need for him drove Caster to want more.
By the time he regained control, Mark was breathing hard.
They were both aroused again, but desperation was replaced by a comfort he never thought he would experience.
Mark broke eye contact first, but it was the sudden injection of what could only be sadness that pulled Caster away from his desire. The images flowing past his mind were of a woman Caster didn’t know.
“What is it?”
Mark shook his head, not to deny him a response, his mind flooding with images Caster was having a hard time organizing into coherent communication.
He reached for Caster’s hand and Caster followed his lead.
They ended up on the couch and Caster waited, certain what he was about to hear would be significant.
“Amelia told me about my mother.”
Caster sucked in a breath. He didn’t know much about Mark’s mother.
She’d never been a topic of discussion even in Dean’s most unguarded moments, and Mark had only mentioned her once.
At the time he didn’t push, sensing a strained relationship between mother and son, and he’d been sure Mark would never be his, so it had seemed beyond inappropriate to talk about it.
Now, as he watched Mark battle confusion and pain, he was unsure what to do.
Mark’s smile lacked the luster it had acquired in recent times. “I was so wrong about her. I feel so…” He glanced at Caster, as if seeking his comfort. “…guilty.” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…”
Caster took his hand. “Tell me about her.”
Mark opened his eyes, relaxing into the couch with a sigh, but it seemed he couldn’t find the words.
“Everything.” Caster smiled. “I want to know the woman who brought you to me.”
This time his smile was a bit brighter. “I have one good memory of my mother. She was crying, I don’t know why, but I went to her, crawled into her lap, and she buried her face in my hair.”
He took a breath. “I don’t know why that moment comes to me every time I reach for her.”
He lowered his gaze. “I loved her so much, Caster and I thought…”
The grief he battled called to every protective instinct in Caster, but he was certain that Mark needed to express his feelings more than he needed his comfort.
“Amelia said she loved me so much, she died for me.”
Caster could not contain his gasp in that moment, and the myriad of confused thoughts streaming from Mark’s mind didn’t help his reaction.
But he regained control, determined to be the steady presence Mark needed.
“Dean never said how she died, and I got the sense he didn’t want to talk about it. Do you know?”
Mark shook his head. “By the time she died, our relationship was so broken we barely spoke.” He pushed further into the couch, the far-away look in his eyes indicating a journey into his memory. “She sent me to my grandfather when I was very little.”
“Your grandfather raised you?’
Mark nodded.
“The Prime Alpha before Dean.”
“That’s how Dean and I grew so close. It was clear from a very early age Dean would challenge for the Prime, and my grandfather was getting him ready for that destiny.” He chuckled. “Getting both of us ready, really…”
Caster smiled. His father had told him of that particular formidable Prime Alpha. Caster had never had the privilege, but anyone who aroused so much respect in both Marcus and his father was worth knowing. “What was he like?”
“Grandpa?”
He nodded, riveted by his need to know everything about Mark.
“He was the best. Scary, like Dean, when he needed to be, and tough sometimes, but I was loved. My parents weren’t there a lot, so my days were spent with my grandfather in council meetings. When I was younger, they seemed like a punishment, but after his death and Dean’s ascension, I realized…”
“He was preparing you to be your brother’s right hand.”
Mark nodded, a warm smile on his face, the image of his grandfather prominent in his unguarded mind. “He made me… me, I guess.”
“And your mother? She was his daughter?”
The warmth of Mark’s smile diminished, a slight tick in his jaw the only indication of his tension.
“Yes. She was formidable.” His smile returned.
“Didn’t back away from a fight. Dean is a lot like her.”
That smile and the wonderful images it brought to his mind faded into the subdued grief that had been present before he started talking about his grandfather.
“Caster, if Amelia is right, I was awful to her. I need her to forgive me.”
Caster could hear the tears Mark held on to in that declaration. “Why, what did she say?”
The question landed as intended, drawing Mark away from his emotions and into logic.
“She said they had mistranslated a prophecy…”
Mark shook his head. “I’m not sure I understood most of what she said, but my mother thought that by staying close to me, loving me, my Magicae Lupus would be activated and Ethel would find me.”
It was Caster’s turn to battle his emotions. “But it was not her love. It’s me…”
Mark nodded.
“Do you trust Amelia? I don’t know a lot about her. Riley refuses contact with most witches, and I’ll admit my short-sightedness in following his lead on this.”
“She felt familiar. Like my wolf knew her. I felt safe with her.” He sighed. “She says my mother made her erase those memories, but my wolf remembers.”
Caster nodded. “Then I wouldn’t blame yourself, my love. You were a child, and the adults in your life should have known better.” Then he shook his head. “Actually, it sounds like they did. She gave you to the one person she knew would prepare you for the long road your destiny called for.”
Mark nodded. “But I hated her.” He closed his eyes, the tension in his body, one Caster could feel even in the tiny distance separating them, growing. “I just wanted her to love me as much as I loved her. As much as she loved Dean.”
Caster reached for his hand again. “Sounds like she did.” He waited for Mark to open his eyes and acknowledge that conviction with a nod. “Did Amelia tell you how she died?”
He shook his head. “My father said she’d just slipped away, and my hatred wouldn’t let me find out more.”
Caster nodded. “Then that’s where you start. Let Amelia tell you everything about her. Get to know her again. It's all you can do.” He squeezed his hand. “What was her name?”
Mark’s smile, the bright one from before, returned. “Beatrice, or as my grandfather insisted on calling her, Little Trixie.” He chuckled, the images in his mind and the levity of his emotion bringing a smile to Caster’s lips. “She was his youngest. She had two brothers, but they both died young.”
“During the war?”
“No. Before. That’s why the whole community is so devoted to Dean. For a time, there was the real fear my grandfather would die without a designated heir. The chaos that would unleash…”
Caster frowned. “I thought Prime Alpha was an earned position, not inherited.”
All sadness and tension fled, and Mark sat up. “Well…yes. But the title often stays in the same family because…” He looked bashful, almost as if he had a secret he shouldn’t reveal.
“What?”
He sighed. “Let’s hope Dean won’t kill me for telling you this. You see that ability that Dean has. The way he controls everyone…”
He shrugged. “…when he wants to. That is an inherited trait. If it shows up in a child, that child has the potential to be Prime Alpha. But he or she still has to earn it.”
“And your uncles or your mother didn’t have it?”
He shook his head. “For a second there, they thought my grandfather would be the last. He was immortal, but even I could see that he was getting very tired of it all and he’d been Prime for too long.”
Caster understood the need to keep that information guarded, and he was thankful that Mark felt him worthy of the secret.
“What did you mean by Riley doesn’t like most witches?”
Caster shrugged. “That is a long story, and not mine to tell. I don’t even think I know the extent of it, but he has a distrust of the Grand Coven that borders on real hatred.”
“And you are loyal to him?”