Mark could only nod.
“How?” Mikey’s tone was a little reverent. He could understand the wonder in his brother’s voice. It was unthinkable for anyone or anything else to have control of the wolf when it meant they had control over the werewolf’s life force.
“I don’t know.” He glanced at Dean to find only concern. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”
The Prime Alpha shook his head. “How does it feel?”
Mark’s shrug was a casual action that belied the seriousness of the situation. “At first I couldn’t make sense of it, and when I did…”
“It was all you wanted.” Mikey found the words he couldn’t.
“And when he’s not close to you?” Dean’s discomfort was clear. They’d made fun of each other’s choice of partner before, as brothers do, but this was beyond that. It was beyond anything they’d tackled before.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to get away from him since that day.” He’d meant it as a joke, to break the tension, bring back the teasing, but the effect was the opposite. A hush fell over the table as they contemplated the effect Caster’s distance would have on his wolf. It was only then that Caster’s need to tell him of his plans became clear. Caster worried about it as well.
“He’s leaving to visit his father,” he said when no one seemed willing to voice their thoughts. “I guess I’ll find out soon.” The concern on Dean’s expression crossed the threshold to pity and anger, however misplaced, overtook Mark. He slammed his fist on the table, startling Mikey. “Don’t.”
The Prime Alpha’s lips curved into a smile. “I’d say you’ll survive.”
“I fucking hate you sometimes.” He pushed out of the chair with more force than necessary, Dean’s laughter and Mikey’s admonishment following him through the French doors into the house. By the time he made it to the back garden, unsure how he’d even found the secluded location, shame had replaced anger. He should find his brother later and apologize, even if the fucker didn’t deserve it.
Worry, ever-present and unwanted, followed Caster to his father’s estate in Southern England. He couldn’t shake it, the worry something would happen to Mark while he was away. He didn’t know how long this would take. His father never summoned him unless it was important, and given everything they dealt with, it was easy to guess what this was about.
Marcus, the King’s long-time right hand, had made it clear delays would not be tolerated. Riley’s immense power meant travel took only a millisecond, but nervous energy crackled between them, intense and difficult to ignore as they paused on the threshold of his father’s study. Caster took a steadyingbreath, glanced at Damien, who just shrugged and pushed the door open.
“Hey, boys.” Marcus’s tone didn’t carry any contempt despite his choice of words. To him, Caster would forever be a child, no matter how old he got. Marcus was an ancient, like his father, his youthful vigor containing a strength and wisdom only time can bestow. He would need that wisdom on a different matter later, one his father had no business knowing.
“Marcus.”
His father was on the phone with someone, the conversation calm with an underlying current of annoyance. Caster admired his father’s endless ability to maintain his composure even in the most difficult of situations. He was certain he would need it if the throne ever passed to him, but he was a long way away from being the master of his emotions.
The King turned his chair around to face the wall as each of them found a seat in the massive study. His father’s household was larger than his for good reason. The King’s job was a delicate juggle of vampire interests in an ever-visible human world, and he needed all kinds of experts to help with that.
Marcus moved to the front of the desk, leaning against it, his body obscuring the King, who had yet to acknowledge them. “So, what is this I hear about the werewolves in your house?” His question was delivered in a casual tone, but Caster had known Marcus long enough to know it was anything but.
“We needed Dean for this.” He didn’t know why he sounded so defensive.
Marcus smiled. “And his brother?”
For a second, Caster worried Marcus might be asking about his unusual relationship with Mark, but he had no way of knowing that.
“Bastian attacked him, and the witch wants him for some reason,” Damien said, drawing his attention to their reason for being here.
Marcus nodded. “That witch is beginning to get on my nerves.” He looked at Riley. “Where are we on finding her?”
“That’s not what is important right now, Marcus.” The King’s booming voice interrupted whatever answer Riley had been about to give.
Every son thought of their father as an unattainable prospect, but when your father was the king of the most powerful species in the world and had been that for more than a thousand years, you never measured up. Caster didn’t have a difficult relationship with either of his parents. Unlike Uncle Lucien, his father understood and respected his son’s desire to impress him and loved him enough never to use it as a weapon.
A smile, brief and fleeting, crossed his father’s face. “How are you, boys?”
They all nodded their response, but the moment of pleasantry, his way of letting them know he cared for each one of them, was gone as fast as it had appeared.
“Father, we may have an idea of where the witch could be.”
“I know.”
Caster frowned.