Page 9 of Only You, No One Else

Everything narrowed to this need. Edie spoke, made plans to contact Riley and Adella, and he may have granted her his permission to share their conversation with them; he couldn’t be sure. His mind drowned in the need for Caster, his wolf howling for the one man who held both their strength.

CHAPTER 6

Damien’s latest attack landed like a lightning bolt, sending vibrations through his sword and into his bones. The impact was enough to shatter a human bone, but Caster smiled, the pain a welcome relief from the intensity of the other pain he refused to acknowledge.

His sadist of a cousin smirked, enjoying his advantage, and came at Caster again, but he was ready this time. An easy parry, a perfect pirouette aided by a burst of vampire speed, and his sword pressed against Damien’s throat, his cousin’s sword limp at his side. Why the fuck was he smiling?

Caster pressed the blade further against his cousin’s neck, drawing a trickle of blood, its scent joining their combined sweat, permeating the space. “Yield?”

Damien’s smile widened, and too fast for Caster to process, the hilt of his sword came up with enough force to shatter his collarbone. The pain was negligible as he did his best to follow his cousin’s rapid movements, parrying each blow away just as fast. Too soon, his cousin was a blur, the glint of the swords, the clanging sounds they made as they came together with shattering force rising above their harsh breaths.

Neither of them got the upper hand. They knew each other too well. Still, Caster wouldn’t trade this for anything. Damien was too often the only person who understood who he was and gave him what he needed. And his lust for pain and blood brought on by his anger at Zeke’s return had necessitated this.

The latest clash of the swords that held too much meaning for both of them ended too close to his face, their combined strength keeping the weapons from hitting their mark. Damien smirked, his face damp with the consequence of their exertion, his sharp breaths wafting past the blades to cool Caster’s face.

He started to draw away from the latest stalemate, preparing to beat that knowing smirk from his cousin’s face when footsteps infiltrated his battle-ready mind. His senses alert, he zeroed in on the intruder, past the sound of their movement, to decipher their intent. The rhythm of the heartbeat he found was unsure, subdued, but its signature was familiar. So familiar, his strength failed him a fraction, and Damien took full advantage, pushing him away with such precision Caster’s feet glided over the exercise mat.

He regained his composure in time to feel the full weight of Damien’s blade on his shoulder, a hair’s breadth from his neck. The pain was negligible, the blood too warm against his skin. It was the gasp from across the room that stole his breath.

There he stood. Mark, worry marring his handsome face as he zeroed in on the latest injury this sparring session had caused. Caster glanced at the cut already closing and then back at Mark, unable to stop looking at him. His desire to rush to him, engulf him in his embrace, and ease the worry his unprotected mind projected was greater than his desire to inflict the same pain on Damien.

He glanced at his cousin, whose smirk now held a different sort of mockery. Damien held up his hands, the grip on his sword loosening. “That’s my cue.” He placed the sword on the table along the wall. “Hi, Mark. I’m glad you’re OK.” He walked past Mark, but stopped with his hand close to the door. “Caster…”

Caster tore his gaze away from Mark to grant his cousin his attention.

“I’ll find Cy and X.”

His nod was automatic, his cousin’s departure unnoticed as his full attention shifted to Mark.

Unsure who moved first, they stood close enough that Mark’s labored exhale cooled his exertion. Caster closed his eyes, his sword crashing at their feet with a muffled thud.

His fingers brushed Mark’s hand. “Breathe for me, my love.”

Mark’s exquisite obedience tore the last of his resistance, and he grabbed his hand, drawing him into his arms.

“I am so sorry, baby.” His voice was a whisper lost in the way Mark’s body fit into his.

Mark pushed closer, his latest inhale cooling Caster’s exertion. “You smell so good…”

Caster smiled, his hand finding Mark’s hair, reveling in the soft, full strands he had missed. “I do?”

Mark’s nod was small.

Caster drew him away from the embrace, needing to see those beautiful brown eyes, reassure himself that this was not a dream. “What do I smell like?”

Mark’s eyes drifted shut as he inhaled. “The rain. The damp soil in the rain.” He opened his eyes, his hand on Caster’s hip tightening. “Like home.”

Caster’s hand flowed through his hair to rest at the back of his head, drawing a sigh from both. “How do you feel?”

The subtle resistance, the hint of hesitation, was apparent in the way his muscles clenched, but it was gone much faster than Caster expected. “I need you.”

“You have me. You’ll always have me.” Those lips called to him, and Caster lost the battle to resist. The kiss was reverent, soft, almost as if they both didn’t want the overwhelming desire for each other to interfere with the moment. His fervent desire to slam Mark against the wall, give them both what they wanted, was there, but his need to savor this, remember every second of the way Mark’s tongue glided over his was stronger.

Each moan, each time Mark’s hand tightened against his hip, the irresistible way his breath caught heightened his need to slow this down. Mark pushed closer to him, the outline of his erection behind the layers of clothing unmistakable as he pushed against Caster’s aching cock.

His hand at the back of Mark’s neck tightened, but neither of them moved to remove the hindrance keeping them apart. They needed this, the gentle closeness.

The kiss slowed to a halt as they both fought for breath. Mark’s eyes drifted open, but the smile he expected to see looked more like worry.