“Eastern garrison raid,” Nero said softly. “The day we freed the prisoners.”
Casteel shuddered, then crushed Nero's lips in another fierce kiss, as though he could smother old horrors with new fire, but he was soon exhausted and lay back.
Nero had already made the decision and knew Casteel hadn’t had much gentleness in his life, and while Nero's reactions were making less and less sense even to him, he wanted to change that.
Nero drew slow, patient, coaxing shudders of pleasure from Casteel’s fevered body. He tasted the dip of Casteel’s waist, worshipped the curve of his hip, and lost himself in pleasure he'd thought never possible ever again. Casteel whimpered. "Need you," he murmured.
Nero reached for the oil Makim had brought, knowing that it wasn't tainted. Casteel gasped, arching into Nero’s touch as those fingers reached under Casteel. He tried to make it good as his fingers teased and probed. He pulled a cushion underneath Casteel and positioned himself at the entrance made tender by salve and longing.
Their eyes met—blue flame to storm-black. Then Nero pressed in, filling Casteel inch by slow inch. The room shivered with the heat of it. A groan tore from Casteel’s chest as Nero paused. “Don’t you dare stop,” Casteel whimpered, and Nero sank fully home. Nero hummed against Casteel’s throat, something in him unable to move his lips away from there, as if Casteel’s blood only pulsed for him.
The urge to bite swept through Nero like wildfire, primal and demanding. His teeth grazed the tender skin of Casteel's throat, and the young man tilted his head back in unconscioussubmission, exposing the vulnerable curve where neck met shoulder.
"I need—" Nero growled, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears.
"Yes," Casteel breathed, his fingers digging into Nero's shoulders. "Whatever it is—yes."
Nero thrust deeper, his rhythm building as Casteel's legs wrapped around his waist. The mark on Nero's neck burned hotter with each movement, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Something ancient and feral clawed at his insides, demanding release, demanding...completion.
Without conscious thought, Nero's teeth sank into the smooth skin of Casteel's throat. The coppery taste of blood burst across his tongue, and Casteel cried out. A blinding white light exploded behind Nero's eyes as something tore through him, through them both.
Casteel's body convulsed beneath him, his release spilling hot between their bodies as he sobbed Nero's name. The sound of it—his name on those lips—pushed Nero over the edge. He came with a force that left him shaking, pouring himself into Casteel's willing body as the bond between them solidified and became tangible.
For one endless moment, Nero wasn't sure they were still two people. Their heartbeats synchronized, their breaths mingled, their very souls seemed to touch and intertwine. The mark on the back of his neck cooled suddenly, settling into a pleasant warmth rather than the searing brand it had been.
Nero withdrew carefully, then collapsed beside Casteel, gathering the younger man against his chest. Neither spoke for several minutes, both stunned by the intensity of what had just happened.
"I'm not a shifter," Nero said finally, his voice rough. "I shouldn't have been able to..."
Casteel touched his throat, where the bite mark stood out vividly against his skin. "The silver wolf and his flame-marked mate. I think...I think this is what it meant."
Nero traced the outline of the bite with gentle fingers, and instinctively bent and laved it gently with his tongue. Already it was healing, the edges knitting together faster than any normal wound should. "Does it hurt?"
Casteel shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. "No. It feels...right." His expression sobered. "The fever's gone."
Indeed, Casteel's skin had cooled to a normal temperature, the unnatural flush receding. His eyes were clear again, the wolf retreating to leave only human blue.
"How do you feel?" Nero asked, surprising himself with how much the answer mattered.
"Different," Casteel said thoughtfully. "Like something was missing and now it isn’t. I can feel you," Casteel added, eyes widening with wonder. "Not just physically, but..." He tapped his temple. "Here. Like an awareness."
Nero nodded slowly. He could sense it too—a presence at the edges of his consciousness, foreign yet somehow familiar. "The priests weren't lying about that part, at least."
Casteel's expression darkened. "What happens now? They'll expect us to play our roles—the silver wolf and his mate, saviors of Abergenny."
"We don't have to give them what they want," Nero said, surprising himself with his own certainty. "The bond is formed, but that doesn't mean we become their puppets."
A cautious hope flickered in Casteel's eyes. "You still want to leave? Even with..." He gestured between them.
Nero considered the question carefully. The last ship to Cadmeera before the winter had sailed without him, but there would be others, even if they were smaller, just to get him away from here. The question was whether he still wanted to go alone.
"I made a promise to myself," he said finally. "To start a new life away from all this. That hasn't changed." He paused, studying Casteel's face. "But perhaps my vision of that life can accommodate...adjustments." He would never tie Casteel to him long term, but he couldn't abandon him either. They would stick together until they got out of this mess. Then his thoughts ground to a halt. Could they be separated? Surely they could. Nero wasn't a wolf, and now they'd fulfilled the bond Casteel wasn't sick. Maybe—
"You'd take me with you?" Casteel sat up, wincing slightly.
"The alternative seems to be staying here, to be manipulated." Nero shrugged, but his head was still full of implications. Surely this bond nonsense was an exaggeration. He'd known mated wolves and hadn't ever heard of any of them dying when the other did.
A tentative smile curved Casteel's lips. "I've never been outside Abergenny."
