Caster understood his uncle’s need to have that on record. The politics of vampire society were a delicate dance. He said nothing as he walked out, Riley close behind. Damien would stay to continue the council meeting. There was a lot to deal with other than the witch. A report with their recommendations would be on his desk by day’s end.
“You know where my mother goes, your mother follows.” Riley followed him into the mid-morning sun.
Caster smiled. “Yeah.” His household would need to be ready to receive their queen, not that his mother would bother with the formality of it all. Perhaps it would do him a bit of good to spend time with her. She understood him in ways no one else could.
He didn’t relish going back to his house, not with Mark’s presence permeating the walls, but as they each made their way to their cars, he resigned himself to his destination. He owed Dean and Mark an explanation. Keeping them in the dark wouldn’t help their fragile peace.
“We need to tell Dean.”
Riley nodded, stopping a few paces from the car. “We can’t keep it from him.” He studied Caster for a long moment. “Are you OK?”
“Ask me later.”
He thanked the man he thought of as a brother when he accepted the non-reply with little hesitation. Kyle also remained silent as they drove back to his compound. He didn’t know the answer to that question. Before the witch, before Mark, his life had been simple. He was the firstborn son of the most powerful vampire in the world, even if that power had to be concealed from humans. That position brought privilege, advantages, and a deep sense of responsibility that has always plagued him.
In the last few years, as the witch had grown bolder in her actions, the pressure of that responsibility had increased tenfold. In the last few days, it had increased a hundredfold.
Mark hadn’t been back in this study since his encounter with Bastian. That name rang in his mind like a bell calling him to action. Sleep had been a luxury the last few days. Every time he closed his eyes, he feared that the vampire would find a way to kill him in his sleep. The few hours he’d managed to succumb to much-needed rest, his nightmares plagued him like never before. The memory of that night at the club, the only night his nightmares had stayed away, brought sensations to his body he didn’t need. Not when he was about to see the person who’d aroused those sensations in him.
Thankful for his brother’s immense presence next to him, Mark walked past the threshold, the memory of the door he’d torn apart bringing a tinge of guilt. He fortified his thoughtsfrom the two Born-Vampires in the room. Caster’s bodyguard left as soon as they settled into the couch opposite the massive desk Caster sat behind. Riley leaned against one of the three wall-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the room, the light from the open curtains bathing the room in warm sunshine.
The carpet had been replaced, the scent of bleach lingering from the clean-up that must have been necessary the last time he’d been here. He dared a glance at Caster, careful not to linger, but all he got was a mask of calm determination. It was best to avoid focusing on the disappointment his indifference inspired.
“She killed again.” Caster’s words drew his attention, and he couldn’t contain the panic.
“Here?” Dean asked, his voice calmer than Mark expected. Given everything that had happened, his brother was doing a good job of containing his anger.
“That’s the thing…” The urgency in Riley’s voice was in contrast with his casual stance. “In Los Angeles…”
“Which means she may not be here at all?” Dean said.
Riley shook his head. “No. It just means that we don’t know where she is. Her power is sufficient to be used at a distance.”
Mark glanced at Caster again. The calm mask of determination had been replaced by what he could only describe as worry. His heart raced, and Caster tilted his head to the side. Mark had forgotten he could hear his heart. He could do nothing about his body’s physiological response to a threat that seemed to grow larger by the day. He lowered his gaze to avoid the questions in Caster’s expression.
“There is nothing to fear, though. The house is protected, and Riley hasn’t stopped looking.” Caster’s words were meant to reassure him, and Mark had to fight everything in him to keep from meeting the gaze he could feel.
“I think you need protection,” Riley said.
Dean nodded. “I had assumed we would at some point.”
Mark’s mind escaped Caster’s concern for him for long enough to catch the meaning of Dean’s agreement. “You mean magical protection?” The Werewolf Council would not like it.
He turned to his brother, but Dean was already arguing the point he hadn’t voiced. “It’s the only way. If we’re to get her and everyone involved with her, we need to stay and stay safe.” He caught Mark’s eye, the double-meaning of his words clear, then he glanced at Riley. “Is it safe?”
Riley gave him a curt nod. “It is the same protection spell I have on him,”—he pointed at Caster—“and the rest of the family.”
A second passed, and Dean stood. “Let’s do it.”
Riley pushed off the bookshelf. “I need a few things and your brother. Where is he?”
“I’ll come with you.”
The minute or less it took for Dean to agree and follow Riley out of the room was a blur. By the time he’d accepted the advantage the protection spell would bring, they were gone, and Mark was stuck in the room with the last person he wanted to be close to.
He braced his hands on the couch, ready to move, only tobe held captive by the gray eyes he couldn’t forget. Riley and Dean’s voices, retreating further away from the study, reached a mind consumed by the cracking energy between them. His breath shortened again, and for the first time since this morning, his wolf made his presence known.
Caster’s lips parted, and he anticipated the question, shaking his head. “You promised you’d never ask me that.”