The bartender smiled his greeting as Mark approached the bar. “What can I get you?”
A little alcohol wouldn’t affect him as it did humans, but he needed to occupy his hands with something. “Your best whiskey.”
The bartender’s warm smile remained as he poured the drink and placed it in front of him. Mark’s eyes gravitated toward the collar on the human’s neck.
The bartender reached for the simple black band that held a lot of meaning for both of them and nodded at the similar black band adorning Mark’s neck. “Are you here alone?”
Mark took a sip, the whiskey’s burn cascading past his throat, a momentary distraction from the roiling butterflies in his belly. “Yes. I was hoping…”
The bartender nodded and held out his hand. “I’m Chris.”
Mark accepted the handshake. “Mark.”
“If you stay a while longer, I know a Dom who would love you.” He glanced at his watch. “He comes in every Monday and Wednesday. Says he doesn’t like the weekend crowds.” He chuckled. “Here, I am assuming you want a male?”
Mark nodded. “You’re right.” Was it too much to ask if whoever he found was not human? In this part of the world, it wouldn’t be too difficult to find a werewolf, though he doubted he’d be that lucky.
“Oh, good. You’ll like this one. He’s a bit intense for myliking, but I’m sensing you like intense.”
Chris had no idea how right he was. Mark took another sip of his drink and drowned out his new friend, who continued to chat on about the club. He hated every second of this, as he had the last time he’d tried it. Revulsion roiled around in his gut, mixing with the nerves, guilt, and fear already there. This had been a mistake.
A sharp gasp from Chris tore him from his desire to run. “…he’s here…” The reverence in his voice compelled Mark to turn.
His questions and all his confused feelings dissolved in an exhale, draining all the energy from his body. Caster. He was here, talking to one of the other patrons, and even in the club’s red-inspired darkness, he’d recognize that body, its presence anywhere.
The moment Caster became aware of him shattered the last of his resolve. He was pinned to the spot, unable to move as he watched the one person he didn’t want to see walk towards him, the familiar smirk becoming more pronounced the closer he came to the well-lit bar.
“You know him?”
Chris’s question broke Caster’s hold on his tongue, but when he opened his mouth to answer, Caster shook his head, the subtle command wiring his jaw shut.
He tried to take a deep breath, only to choke on the exhale as Caster closed the distance between them in a single stride. He was within touching distance, and Mark’s fingers ached with the need to reach for him. Caster’s scent overwhelmed his senses, and for the first time since his nightmare, Mark felt his wolf’s presence. It was a subtle scratch at the barrier keeping him atbay, but he couldn’t have missed it if he’d tried.
Caster smiled.What are you doing here?
Mark heard his question, and although he was certain an answer was required, he chose to focus on breathing to avoid passing out.
Caster looked past him at Chris. “Good evening, Christopher. Do you mind giving us a moment?”
Whatever the bartender said was lost to him as all his senses focused on the man he’d prayed he wouldn’t run into any time soon. He wore a suit, of all things. One that accentuated everything that made him spectacular. Mark fought against the urge to feel all the muscles it contained. He’d felt Caster’s body against him just before the monster had attacked them, and he only now realized how much he wanted to feel its magnificence restraining him again.
“I remember telling you that I hate repeating myself.”
Perhaps it was his tone, but Mark’s next intake of breath was a gasp. He looked at Caster’s face for one second and dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
Caster turned to the left in the direction of one of those doors Mark had seen earlier. “Come with me.”
His feet moved of their own accord, and deep in the recesses of his soul, he recognized his guilt. But he couldn’t have ignored Caster if he’d used every ounce of his willpower.
Past that door, the room was lighter. It was also cozier with a large bed and two accent chairs on either side.
Caster pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
Careful to avoid touching him, Mark walked past Caster to do as he was told. The chair took all the tension away from his legs and into his belly. Whatever would happen in this room would probably kill him, so why was he impatient for it to begin?
Disappointment overwhelmed him when Caster moved away to lean against the closed door.
A moment went by, two, and nothing, no orders came, just the rough sound of his own breaths as he struggled to hold on to each inhale.