It was clear he didn’t want Caster to leave. His control slipped, and he was in Mark’s face, their lips inches apart before he could rein it in. The moment stretched into eternity, Mark’s breath caught, and he closed the distance. The kiss was a simple brush of the lips, hesitation preventing it from growing into the all-consuming encounter he’d expected it to be.
He started to pull away, but Mark grabbed his shirt and opened his mouth, then all was lost. He drowned in the unique taste that was Mark, his control a distant memory. Their desire for each other tore out of them in rhythmic moans that ignited the air in the room. Mark’s hand went to the back of his head, tangling in his hair, and Caster started to push him further into the couch, only to be interrupted by the insistent ring of his cellphone.
He tore away from the only place he wanted to be with a curse, his intention to kill whoever was on the other end of theline overwhelming him. Mark watched him with a small smile as he reached for the offending device. Damien’s name flashed across the screen, and he regained some of his control.
Mark nodded toward the device, his fingers still in Caster’s hair. “He must really need you.”
Caster answered the call, hoping he didn’t sound as out of breath as he felt. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
Whatever Damien said disappeared in his need to kiss Mark again, but the distraction had brought his control to the fore. He could, however, do nothing about his earlier urge to brush away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “Stay?”
Mark’s nod was almost imperceptible, and it took more control than he had to let go and walk away.
An agitated Damien paced the length of his study when Caster found him. He looked disheveled, his shirt tails sticking out of his slacks, his uneven sleeves rolled up, which was so out of character for his cousin, Caster worried. He turned to the only other person in the room, but Julian’s shrug and stoic demeanor did nothing to remedy his worry.
“Please don’t tell me my day is about to get worse.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s already tomorrow. What now?”
Damien ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t get past the possibility Bastian was involved with the witch, so I had Julian dig a little deeper.” He nodded in Julian’s direction, whosecalm expression did nothing to dilute the restless energy from Damien. “Tell him.”
“I still don’t have all the details, but he is. So is your uncle, Your Highness.”
“And they’re making vampires,” Damien said.
“What?” The control he’d reined in minutes earlier tore at the seams, and rage overwhelmed the remnants of arousal. The two vampires in the room were the least likely to be affected by his anger, but while Julian maintained his usual calm, Damien seemed too wired to sit. Caster could understand his agitation. His grandfather had forbidden the making of new vampires before he was born. The war had brought back the practice, but the treaty had reintroduced the old law, and with good reason.
“We need to tell the King.” Damien’s tone was flat, a mismatch with the frantic energy he didn’t seem willing to subdue.
Caster looked at Julian. “You’re sure.”
“My prisoner is very motivated to tell the truth.” He stood. “The wolves haven’t made a connection yet, but James is close, and I’ve known him long enough to know he’s already thinking it.”
“You’re saying we need to tell them.”
“It is not my place to make decisions, Your Highness. But if my prisoner is telling the truth,”—the calm demeanor slipped for a microsecond, revealing the battle-hardened soldier they would soon need— “which I am certain he is, then we can’t keep them in the dark. It’s best if the Prime Alpha hears it from you.”
“Is there any way to get proof of the new Made-Vampiresbefore morning?”
Julian shook his head. “By day’s end, maybe.”
“We tell Dean first and then the King,” Damien said, his worry clear and understandable. They’d long worried Uncle Lucien would cause problems for them sooner or later, but he’d hoped family would trump whatever ambitions he harbored. Perhaps not.
Shit, why did he keep forgetting… “Mother’s coming here tomorrow.”
Damien frowned. “Is that a good idea?”
“You try telling her she can’t.”
The smile on Damien’s face was a brief interruption, gone before it could ease Caster’s worry.
“She’s with Riley’s mother and Edie.”
Damien nodded. The two powerful Fire Witches would ensure the Queen’s safety, as would the contingent of no less than ten bodyguards she traveled with. Like her youngest son, she hated the extra attention, but she couldn’t defy the King any more than Ben would defy Caster.
“Let’s all get some sleep.” He looked at Julian. “Where’s your prisoner?”
“Secure. I thought you’d rather not know the details.”
Caster couldn’t help the smile. Julian’s efficiency knew no bounds. “We’ll have a formal meeting with the wolves first thing and then notify the King.” He would not go to his father unless he had a solution or at least an idea of one.