“Did you oversleep?” Mikey asked
He checked his wrist, only to realize he’d neglected to wear a watch.
“It’s almost midday.”
The forkful of creamy scrambled eggs that he shoved into his mouth made him want to gag, but he forced himself to chew and swallow for the benefit of his wolf. The animal barely stirred, and worry spread through his body. His nightmares were a part of his life, and he’d learned to live with their intensity. They were his penance for failing to save him. But they seemed to intensify here, startling him awake more than once every night.
“What is it?” Mikey was frowning, the easy smile replaced with concern. At least it wasn’t pity.
He shook his head.
“Please, Mark. It’s just me. You seem… out of sorts.”
Mark smiled even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “Out of sorts?”
His attempt to lighten the mood did nothing for the frown on Mikey’s face. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
His brother had never begged him to share his pain before. Mark stared at his plate. “I can’t feel my wolf. At all.”
Mikey’s gasp was the correct response. To a werewolf, losing the wolf was akin to losing oneself. He glanced at his brother, begging him not to make a big deal out of it, even though it couldn’t be much bigger.
“How long?” The concern on Mikey’s face was a heartbeat away from pity.
“Not long. I dreamt of him, again, but he was gone this morning.”
Mikey fidgeted in his seat. “We have to tell Dean.”
“No.” It took every ounce of restraint not to jump out of his seat.
Mikey studied him for a long moment. “When was the last time you could feel him? Maybe you need to do whatever you were doing when he last appeared.”
Mark almost laughed. His brother’s advice was on point, and he was certain his wolf would respond if he did, but that was a dangerous idea. Still, as his brother continued to study him with endless pity, Mark couldn’t help but wonder if he could, just once. If he can get his wolf to make an appearance for a moment, perhaps he could get some semblance of control.
He’d denied a part of himself for too long, a vital part, and his unsettling encounters with Caster had awoken that side of him. Maybe if he indulged his need to be controlled, his wolf would break free of whatever kept him concealed. It was worth a try. He didn’t need to be in wolf-form to satisfy his lust for vengeance, but he would need even the tiniest bit of his wolf’sstrength if he would fulfil his quest to kill the witch. After that, he didn’t care enough to worry about what would happen to him.
Now he needed to fortify himself against the guilt he was about to subject himself to. Being with any other dominant was such a betrayal of Zeke’s memory; he’d only tried it once in the past decade with disastrous results. He begged the love of his life for forgiveness as he settled on the plan to search for a temporary fix. One thing was certain: it couldn’t be Caster.
“Please don’t ask if I’m OK.” He looked his brother in the eye, begging him to understand.
Mikey nodded, and he welcomed the comfortable silence that settled between them.
One day, he’d have the strength to tell someone he was not OK, that he was too far away from it. Today wasn’t that day.
Two days of trying to summon the courage to go to the BDSM club he’d found online, and still he battled his guilt. Mark stared at his reflection in the mirror. The white button-down shirt, blue jeans, and loafers were not appropriate scene attire, but they’d have to do. He needed someone to bring him past the pain threshold to unimaginable pleasure. The guilt that came with his need to allow a stranger to give him what he’d reserved only for Zeke made his belly ache, but he needed this. He wouldn’t survive much longer without it.
He hadn’t connected with his wolf since the nightmare two days ago, and worry overtook guilt in the whirlwind of emotions he suppressed. He ran a hand through his hair, thankful thestrands behaved today, and the memory of Caster’s touch invaded his mind. He shook his head to dislodge it and grabbed his phone and keys.
The taxi waited for him at the main gate. The vampire guarding it didn’t say anything as he unlocked it and let him through. Mark let out a breath once in the cab’s relative safety, thanking the Goddess again that he’d avoided Caster.
He ignored the cab driver’s attempts at a conversation by pretending to read something on his phone. He’d done his research and wasn’t about to put himself in an unsafe situation. It was a Monday, so he didn’t expect the place to be busy, but he didn’t want to spend too long at the club.
His heart raced as the cab stopped at the club’s front entrance. The neon light glaring at him just said, “The Grunge.” He stepped into the night’s cold air, fighting every instinct to return to the safety of Caster’s mansion, but he forced his feet to move.
The unassuming main entrance morphed into quiet luxury the further down the main hall he went. Red. The lights turned the club’s main section a deep red. If he were human, he wouldn’t see the ten or so patrons present. His retreating wolf senses meant he had to strain to see them, but he still saw every one of them, and none drew his attention.
He walked through the rows of couches lining the main section. Closed doors led to what he assumed were closed quarters for those who preferred their pleasure in private. Perhaps it was because it was Monday, but no one seemed too eager to engage in play.
Maybe this had been a mistake. Still, his overwhelmingneed to reconnect with this vital part of himself kept him from running for the exit.