Page 51 of Only You, No One Else

Bastian stopped and stared at Caster for what seemed an eternity. “I didn’t think it would go this far when I started. I swear it.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter anyway. It is done. You have to hand him over, or she will kill us all.”

“Bas, you are not making sense.” The pain of betrayal was present in Damien’s tone, but he too tried to soothe the wounded animal in his brother, lest they lose him.

“Your wolf!” Bastian met Caster’s stare with direct intent, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable even with the enormity of the fear his heartbeat couldn’t conceal. “She wants him.” He took a breath, some of his frantic energy dissipating with the exhale. “She had a taste of what he could give her, and she is unstoppable now.” He glanced at Riley, his demeanor shifting to almost sadness. “I fear she is too powerful even for you, and that was just with…”

Caster advanced into his space, his need to protect Mark overwhelming his desire for more information. His cousin backed away, but he wasn’t fast enough. Caster had him by the throat, against the nearest wall in a split second. “Speak plainly, Bas, or I will kill you.”

His cousin’s eyes widened, and Caster squeezed. He was aware of Damien’s presence next to him, but he was clear in his conviction to fight the whole world to protect Mark.

Bastian was too slow to acknowledge the danger he was in, and Caster was not above reiterating the threat. He sank his claws into his cousin’s neck, the scent of his blood filling the space. Bastian glanced at his brother, his eyes pleading for assistance.

“I would tell him what he wants to know if I were you,” Damien said, his voice drowning in the roaring battle Caster waged against his anger.

Fine. Unable to communicate any other way, Bastian’s only option was telepathy. Fine, I’ll tell you.

A part of Caster that wouldn’t disobey his mother or break her heart won over his anger, and he released his hold, but he remained close enough to Bastian, his claws still extended.

Bastian coughed as his considerable injuries healed. “She said he couldn’t go to the Underworld without intending to, but after that last battle he was somehow there and she went with him.” He looked at Riley, shaking his head. “I don’t understand this magic stuff, but she is more powerful now. Too powerful.” He reached for his abused neck. “I am not joking…”

A far-off screech interrupted Bastian, and his eyes widened. He tried to move, but the screech grew louder before the stench of the witch’s power infiltrated Caster’s senses. A shockwave of toxic dark power sailed through the space in the house, shattering the peace, breaking every glass, sending Bastian into Caster as they both crashed into a floor that was quickly disappearing. The sound was otherworldly, like a storm within a storm.

The magical maelstrom picked up the house from its foundations and set it down with such force that Caster felt every bone crack. The pain was unimaginable, but expedited healing meant he only felt its intensity for a second, a lingering dull ache replacing the sharp pain. In the dust generated by the magical demolition, Caster tried to find his cousins, but couldn’t see past his own hand. The noise of the storm, the house tearing to shreds, and the screeching howls of what could only be Ethel’s army was so loud he couldn’t hear himself think.

He took a breath, ready to gather the remainder of his strength to fight for his life, fight to stay alive for Mark, when the deafening sound of Ethel’s army faded into the eerie silence of nothing. An unfamiliar out-of-body sensation brought unwanted panic into the mess of emotions he battled, and his claws itched, readying for the fight of his life, but when he opened his eyes, he was in Marcus’s study, Damien, Bastian, and Riley next to him.

The effect of the teleportation spell settled in his belly as he took in the familiar safety of his father’s house. A dull ache lingered as his broken bones knitted together too slowly for his liking. The last time he’d felt this much pain, he’d been stuck in that void with the demon Pierce.

CHAPTER 32

Adrenaline, borne of fear, infused his muscles with much-needed energy, and Mark shot to his feet, startling the women. “How do you know that?”

His tone was accusatory. He didn’t know Amara. Perhaps she was lying. Perhaps she was another one of Ethel’s tricks, and this was not happening at all. He held his eyes shut, took his time reopening them just to make sure this was actually happening.

She is not. The Queen’s voice infiltrated his mind, and Mark shook his head. She has reason to want Ethel dead as well. I assure you she is a friend. An ally.

The fortifications of the mental barrier he’d promised Caster he would keep closed were now ashes and dust. He took a breath; it was best to deal with one problem at a time, lest he drown in all of it. The thought of losing himself, losing Caster, would not occupy space in his mind. He would not let it.

He opened his eyes, acknowledged the Queen’s advice with a nod, and looked at the witch he didn’t know, hoping the Queen was right.

She rose from her knees, smoothing her dress into compliance with little urgency. “When you travel to the Underworld, you bring back a little of that energy with you. It is on you, on your wolf.”

Mark glanced at Edie. “You said I couldn’t go to the Underworld against my will.”

“You can’t.” It was Amara who answered, her reply further confusing his already clouded mind. “It seems it was an accident. You intended to go there, even if you had no conscious awareness of it.” She looked at Amelia, nodded once at her, and then turned her full attention on Mark. “You need to learn how to control that, or it will happen again, and every time it does, Ethel will find a way to follow you.”

“You think she did this time?” Dean asked. He was on full alert, his body primed for a fight. His stance should have been comforting, but all it did was increase Mark’s anxiety. The strategy he’d started to develop before he walked into this room shattered into a fear he couldn’t contain.

“Yes.” Amara’s reply further intensified the fear.

“How do we fix it?” Dean’s question followed the presence of his Alpha into Mark’s mind. His wolf acknowledged the Prime Alpha but was still reluctant to move away from its hiding place.

Amara took a step closer to him, stopped as if asking for permission to close the distance. Mark looked at the Queen, begging her support as his wolf searched the house for the one person who would make everything better, but Caster’s scent seemed far away, its effect out of reach.

He had to leave with Damien. I am here. The Queen reinforced her words by moving closer to him, taking his hand. Dean’s Alpha flooded his body with a dose of healing, something his brother hadn’t done in a long time. With their unshakable support, he nodded for Amara to draw closer.

The witch’s hand hovered over his forearm, and the same tingling sensation he experienced in Riley’s presence tickled his skin. “You were not there for too long, but the residue is there.” Her brown eyes met his. “What is the last thing you remember?”

He squeezed the Queen’s hand and glanced at Dean. “The battle against the witch, Zeke’s reappearance, and then nothing. I woke up and Mikey said it had been three days.” He took a breath. “I saw Zeke, in wolf form, in my mind just before I woke up.”