Page 32 of Only You, No One Else

Her attention never left Mark for more than a second. “I am ready right now. We can’t let Ethel have you.”

Caster squeezed his hand once, released it, and stood. “Be ready to leave soon. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Mark didn’t doubt that Caster would make it happen. His clipped commands reached through the open door to settle his nerves as he gave Kyle clear directions on what to do.

Amelia smiled at him. “I’d hoped we would meet soon enough, but I worried that your memories had overwhelmed you.”

He couldn’t look at her. They almost had. If he hadn’t met Caster, he doubted he would have survived them.

“It will be very nice to have you, Amelia.” The comfort in the Queen’s voice drew him away from a pain that was now dull in its intensity, but still present. “We need all the help we can get.”

“Do you think Amara might be willing to help?” Edie asked.

Amelia nodded. “I will ask. But I am confident she’ll say yes.”

Mark didn’t know who Amara was, but Edie’s smile was enough for him to see her as an ally. Caster’s mother was right; they would need all the help they could get if they were to survive the coming onslaught.

One last concerned gaze his way, and Amelia’s projection dissipated. The full combined extent of Adella and Edie’s power still filled the room, but it didn’t carry a threat.

“Now.” The Queen was on her feet with an energy he was beginning to get used to. “How would you like to meet the King? We can’t keep him waiting any longer.”

Mark stood as Edie and Adella made excuses to leave, and he looked down at himself, regretting his choice of clothing.

The Queen waved his concerns away. “You look fine.”

He frowned.

She sighed. “OK. Change and come downstairs?”

His gaze followed her as she walked away. Caster leaned against the door, his mocking smirk adding to the discomfort already building. Was he ready to meet the King? He’d thought he’d have a few days to get ready, to present his best self.

Caster pushed off the door jamb. “He will love you.”

CHAPTER 21

Would Caster ever get used to the swell in his heart every time Mark smiled? That smile was rare, and the witch and now that Alpha would pay for every instance of pain they’d caused him. His chest constricted for a different reason, a love he couldn’t contain, bursting through to infuse his body with the need to feel Mark’s skin against his.

He was moving before he could formulate thoughts of restraint, and Mark stepped back. He frowned and advanced further into his space, and Mark held out his hands between them in a futile attempt to stop him.

“Stop!” His smile turned into a laugh, and Caster’s heart swelled with love and pride. It was arrogant for him to even think it, but his protection had made it possible for Mark to let his guard down enough to laugh.

He stepped forward so Mark’s palms landed on his chest. Their initial intent to push him away turned into a caress as they both gave in to the need for each other.

But Mark shook his head, his smile wider than Caster had ever seen it. “Your mother won’t wait.”

He grabbed Mark’s wrists and used the momentum to draw him closer, their lips crashing into their indescribable desire for each other. He tried to pour all his love into the kiss as all the fight left Mark’s body, his tight hold easing into a lover’s touch. Then they were moving toward the bedroom, the familiarity of the room manifesting in the way he found the bed without breaking the kiss or opening his eyes.

This would be hard and fast; he was too desperate for any tenderness. Would he ever be free of that desperation?

He pushed Mark onto the bed with more force than necessary, and Mark landed with a bounce. The smile was gone, the lightness of the moment replaced by a desperation for each other that engulfed the room with only what he could describe as a manifestation of their shared love.

The covers from last night hindered his need, and he ripped them off the bed with enough force to tear them apart. Mark gasped, but the images in his mind, his attempts to reach for Caster, pull him closer, didn’t indicate fear.

Unable to articulate his need in words, Caster tore at Mark’s shirt, ripping his clothes off in a split second. He started to give his own clothing similar treatment, but Mark shook his head, rising to his knees, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. “Let me?”

Caster swallowed the lump in his throat. Would he survive Mark’s tenderness? Until Mark, he’d never craved it. The dominant in him would not let him slow down enough to be the receiver; his need to give, to be in control, was too great to overcome. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and released it with an acquiescing nod.

Mark’s cool fingers brushed his neck, and he shivered. The unintentional caress was pure torture with every button Mark released, the cool air in the room causing a tingle to run through his exposed skin.