“We are fucked up.”
He was content to lose his pain in Mark’s eyes. It was nothing compared to the pain Mark carried if that night had been any indication.
“How about we find you some closure. Kill that witch together, and we’ll revisit our fucked-up natures soon after?”It was the best he could offer. Anything else, and he would risk taking advantage of a broken submissive, something he would never do.
Mark nodded. “If you promise to still fuck me.”
Caster smiled, some of the tension draining away. “I can’t resist you. It seems futile to keep trying to.”
He pushed into Mark’s body, but it was clear in the way they both refused to rush this or break eye contact that this was more than just fucking, more than base desire. The distinction was palpable in the way he didn’t try to stop Mark from meeting each one of his gentle, subdued thrusts and in their unhurried pace. Gone was the desperate speed of hurtling towards pleasure. In its place, the desire to prolong this connection as long as they could.
When it did come, their explosive pleasure was defined by a shared sigh. Neither wanted to move. Neither wanted the day to end.
Mark had drifted off to sleep soon after their lovemaking, and Caster was now certain there was no other way to describe it. Marcus had often talked about the possibility of meeting a submissive who was the perfect fit, one who checked all the boxes, as he’d put it. Could this be it? It was clear from the beginning that their attraction was more than natural, but the idea of a soul mate was one he never could get behind. His mother was a proponent of the idea, and so were all her friends.
He shook his head. Even if fated mates were a thing, and he didn’t think they were, why would the Goddess make his soulmate a werewolf? Before his treaty with the Prime Alpha,the two species didn’t even share the same territory. What were the chances they would even meet?
He looked at Mark, his face transformed by the calm of sleep. Gone was the pain of his loss, the pain he thought he hid well but was apparent to everyone who met him. He looked so good in his bed. Would it really be a chore to keep him in it forever?
Marcus would kill him for even thinking it. Mark was still very much in love with the dominant he’d lost. A decade to an immortal often felt like a minute, and it would be a long while before he was over that loss. He couldn’t consent to being his if he still loved and trusted another. For the kind of relationship they both wanted to work, Mark would need to be his mind, body, and soul. His mind and soul belonged to another.
He brushed his hair off his forehead, content to have only his body for now, reiterating his goal to find and kill the witch. Bastian was another matter. Mark wouldn’t find closure until his cousin was dead, and Caster couldn’t see Damien or The King allowing that. Did that mean their budding relationship was doomed from the start?
His hand brushed Mark’s forehead, and he stirred, his eyes fluttering open.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”
Mark pulled on his hand instead, his mind broadcasting his desire to remain close. Caster went with little resistance, snuggling into the warmth of Mark’s body and closing his eyes against his defeatist thoughts. They had a few hours of this before the intrusion of all the problems the closed door kept at bay. He’d take and cherish any moment.
He’d just sighed into relaxation when Mark’s body went rigid in his arms, the hard edges of his primed muscles digging into his skin.
“What?”
Mark sat up, his eyes wide, the amber signaling a transformation overpowering his brown eyes.
“What is it?” Caster’s heart pounded in anticipation, his body readying for a confrontation he couldn’t yet sense. Werewolves had better senses than Vampires, so whatever it was, it had to be outside the compound, perhaps even further past the woods surrounding the property.
He honed all his senses trying to listen for any disturbance, but except for the normal household sounds and a few conversations, no one else seemed alarmed.
He grabbed Mark’s shoulders, forcing him to focus on him. “What is it?”
“The witch.”
“What?”
Mark’s nostrils flared, a growl he seemed unaware of bubbling from his chest. “I can smell her. She’s—”
A surge of malicious dark power sailed through the compound too fast for Caster to detect it in time. Its impact sent a shower of broken glass into the room, exploding with an otherworldly scream. He pulled Mark into him and rolled off the bed as the glass hit the mattress, the house rattling in the confines of its foundations. He landed on the carpeted floor with a thud, the pain a forgotten memory.
Mark was on top of him, his breath short and sharp.
“I need you to transform.”
Mark stared at him for a second, the silence that had descended soon after the blast a lull that was only a momentary reprieve.What if I can’t turn back?
The impact of the words he’d seemed too afraid to say out loud was enormous. It would make sense for him to be afraid if he had lost total control of the animal. But Caster didn’t have time to coddle him, not right now. “You will.”
Mark started to shake his head—