They followed James, who sat on the couch, his demeanor a little cautious. “A lot. A lot of it confusing.” He held Mark’s gaze. “I think I should stay until this is done. And you might want to consider sending Mikey home.”
Mark’s heart beat faster. “Why?”
James didn’t seem afraid. “Just as a precaution. You were right, there is more here. First, Bastian is Damien’s brother, the runt of the litter, a troublemaker.”
“Yeah. Caster told me.”
Dean narrowed his eyes.
“Yesterday. I asked, and he told me.” Mark tried to keep his voice casual. This was not the time to relive that particular experience.
James looked at Dean and then back at him. “OK... Anyway, from what I could find, Caster’s uncle, Damien’s father, is against the treaty. That’s an understatement. He is militant in his objections.”
“Fuck,” Dean said.
“Yeah,” James continued. “I get the sense that the family is split. The king and his brother are not on speaking terms, and as you can guess, Bastian is influenced by his father. Lucien is his name.”
Dean stood, pacing the room. “I know. I met the bastard once. Entitled is the best word that comes to mind.”
“What does this have to do with the witch and me? Why would Bastian attack me?” Mark asked.
The concern on James’s face was warranted, but it was replaced by his usual dependable calm before Mark would analyze it further. “I have guys working on that still. But I thought you needed to know his connection to the faction of vampires opposed to the treaty. We don’t need another war. And if they’ve allied with the witch…”
It was Mark’s turn to curse. Could that be? It was not unusual for witches and vampires to work together, but this? “Do you think Caster knows?”
Dean’s stare bore into him, but he pushed aside the need to explain himself.
James frowned. “I don’t think he does. It wouldn’t make sense for him to ask for our help if he did. You know how hard he fought for the treaty, Dean.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. It doesn’t make sense for him to abandon it. Not after everything we went through to get it signed.”
“And there are those amongst our ranks who don’t like it either.” James’s tone remained even despite the implication ofhis words.
Dean nodded, a faraway look Mark didn’t like on his face.
“We should know more in the coming days.” James’s confidence did not bring the same reassurance it always provided.
“I need to know every wolf who has a problem with the treaty.” There was no mistaking the command in Dean’s tone or the slight undercurrent of uncharacteristic worry.
James’s nod was almost automatic. “I know. Already on it.” Then he stood. “If you’ll excuse me, Julian has asked for me.”
“Damien’s guy? Why?” Dean asked.
James shrugged. “I don’t know. But I suspect he and I may share a mission. I figured we could at least compare notes. I am around, though.” He looked at Mark. “I’m not going anywhere until this is done.”
Mark nodded his acceptance, sure they would need his expertise in battle before long. A hush fell over the room as he closed the door. He’d suspected this was more than just the antics of a nuisance witch, but he hadn’t let himself accept it. Now there was no mistaking it. This was bigger than they knew and had the potential to be more destructive than anyone imagined.
Caster couldn’t get out of the cabin fast enough when Riley called with information about the witch. A thorough search revealed a dagger in his study that contained so much of her dark power it needed to be destroyed. In his haste to get away from Mark and the temptation he aroused, he’d almost forgotten that Riley hadn’t had a chance to protect him. Kyle’s insistence on staying seemed odd at first, as had the guilt following him to Damien’s house.
He couldn’t go back to his house, not with Mark still there. He’d asked Riley to meet him at Damien’s and thanked the Goddess when he hadn’t thought to ask why.
It was clear Damien had not been expecting him or anyone.The house was quiet except for the unmistakable sound of pleasure coming from the playroom upstairs.
Caster smiled. His cousin was at it again. Certain an interruption would not be welcomed, he went to the massive house’s kitchen, trying but failing to keep from listening in on his cousin’s activities.
That he didn’t register the young human’s presence until they were face-to-face was the first indication he’d lost his mind to Mark.
The young man had the same shade of brown hair that his face had been buried in a few hours ago, but the eyes were all wrong. These eyes were a pale blue, almost gray, and they stared at him with apprehension growing into fear. The predator in him relished the stock-still shock holding his prey in place, the rapid heartbeat that permeated his senses, filling him with the need to punish, to feed, to fuck.