The witch was gone, but the toxicity of her energy remained. The house was broken beyond repair, and Mark ignored the crunch of glass tearing into his bare feet as he followed the voices to wherever they’d taken Caster. His unfocused pursuit led him to the room they’d left only a few hours ago. The same room that had housed his safety, his hope of a future, ofeverything with Caster.
The queen stood by the door, the grief she couldn’t hide coloring her expression. She reached for his arm as he approached, tears filling her eyes. “Get dressed first?”
It was only then that he became aware of his nudity, and he nodded, too far into his grief for shame to be a factor.
She gestured for him to wait by the sitting area as she walked into the main bedroom, returning a second later with a bathrobe. “I don’t know where you keep your clothes.”
The same bathrobe Caster had torn off him a few hours ago brushed against his skin as he shrugged it on, unable to meet the Queen’s eyes. Acknowledging the pain she seemed determined to hide with a subdued smile would only release the wall he’d erected around his own, and he couldn’t fall apart now, not in full view of everyone.
She reached for his arm under the heavy material of the bathrobe and squeezed. “I know.”
He met her eyes, but the rickety fortifications around his crumbling heart didn’t break. Instead, the understanding he saw in her expression, the strength she demonstrated, and her small smile gave him the energy to walk past the living area to the bed.
She stayed with him, her arm linked with his as he stared at the immovable mass that was Caster’s body, lying on the still crumpled beddings they’d left behind. He looked so peaceful, as if in deep sleep. The rhythm of his breath, the rising and falling of his chest, was imperceptible, nonexistent, and Mark couldn’t help the gasp. He glanced at the others in the room, his gaze landing on the only person who would have answers.
Riley anticipated his question. “He’s alive.” His voice lacked its characteristic strength. “Listen…”
He frowned, unable to follow Riley’s direction.
The Queen squeezed his arm. “Take a breath.”
He turned to her, Caster’s words in her mouth, tearing a small piece of that wall around his breaking heart. But he did as she asked, and the most glorious sound reached past his clogged mind to awaken his wolf. The steady, soft, and distant thud that was Caster’s heart.
His gasp sounded more like a small sob. “He’s alive.”
The queen’s smile was a touch brighter, Riley nodded.
He caught the male witch’s blue gaze, giving him little room to deny him. “You can bring him back?”
Riley’s nod was emphatic, his sadness an indication of his love for Caster. “I will need your help.”
“I’ll do anything you want.” Right now, he longed to touch Caster. His fingers itched with the need to feel his skin, confirm that the sound he couldn’t stop eavesdropping on is his heart.
“We can’t stay here.” The anger distorting Damien’s voice into a low growl drew Mark’s attention. It was then that he noticed the black goo obscuring the original color of everyone’s clothing. The blood of the undead creatures that made up Ethel’s army. His body was covered in it, as was Caster’s.
“Yes,” Marcus said, his gaze on Caster. “She will come back. We need somewhere defensible.” It was impossible to miss the dominance in his tone. The submissive in him recognized it. Mark was unsure of his relationship with Caster. He didn’t beara familial resemblance, but it was clear he cared.
“How about my place?” Damien asked.
“No,” Julian, who was Damien’s version of Kyle, said. “Too close to this. There is no way humans failed to notice everything that happened here.”
He was right. Considerable cleanup would be necessary before they can even think of returning to this part of the world. When he’d first arrived here, he’d hated the house. Now, he didn’t want to leave.
“We go to my house,” Dean said, and even lost in the desire to be left alone with Caster, the significance of his pronouncement was impossible to ignore. Vampires had never been to the Prime Alpha’s residence, or any other werewolf household.
Silence descended as everyone reached the same conclusion. This would change everything and perhaps not for the better.
“What?” Dean seemed undeterred. He pointed at Mark. “I assume you’ll only go where he goes?”
That wasn’t even up for discussion.
Dean’s blue gaze bore into him for a millisecond before he glanced at Marcus. “It’s settled. We’re all going to my place.”
Marcus nodded. “Good. Everyone, clean up and meet back here for Teleportation in ten minutes?”
The cleanup wasn’t necessary, and Mark saw Marcus’s pronouncement for what it was. He promised himself to thank him later when everyone but the Queen left the room, giving him the space he needed to shed his tears in private.
She stayed for a minute, sharing in his grief as best she could before she too, left him alone. The weight of it all descended on him as he sat on the bed, his keen senses focused on the distant thud of Caster’s heartbeat. It seemed so far away, like his heart was encased in layers of padding.