Nero stripped off his own sweat-soaked shirt and slid onto the bed beside Casteel, gathering the younger man against his chest, alarmed at how light he felt.
The contact sent a jolt through their bond—pain mingled with relief, like cold water on burned skin. Casteel stirred, a soft moan escaping his lips.
"I'm here," Nero murmured, pressing his lips to Casteel's temple. "Stay with me."
It took what seemed like forever. Clutching him tightly Nero whispered promises he would never have dreamed he'd ever make, and tried to figure out his new reality. Except their one time he'd never touched anyone but Maya since he had been a clumsy youth. What would she think? And a man? He knew some of the wolves didn't care as they didn't know who their mate would be, but the royal family had been old-fashioned, and that had trickled down to the people. He'd heard rumors in the rebellion that unlike Cadmeera there hadn't been a true mating in Abergenny in years. Mates rejected because they didn't fill a certain stereotype.
But he wasn't a wolf. And this boy…thismanmade him feel things he'd never experienced, and Nero didn't know how it had affected him so quickly.
He could walk away. Run away. He would live, but Casteel wouldn't, and the thought of that sickened him to his very soul.
Casteel's eyes fluttered open, still glazed with fever. "You came back," he whispered.
"Of course I did." Nero's throat tightened. Had Casteel thought he wouldn't?
A ghost of a smile touched Casteel's lips. "Knew you would. Felt you...fighting."
Nero could sense the truth of those words. Even separated, Casteel had felt his struggle against Doran's demands, hisdesperate need to return. The connection between them ran deeper than either had realized.
Nero ran his fingers through Casteel's damp hair, feeling the heat burning his skin. "Makim says the bond needs to be reinforced. That we need to..." He trailed off, uncertain how to voice what the healer had implied.
"You don't have to." Casteel's hand found Nero's chest, palm flat against his heart.
Their eyes met in the dim light filtering through the chamber's windows. Despite the fever, despite the pain they'd both endured, desire sparked between them—not just physical, but something deeper. The bond itself seemed to pulse with urgency, demanding completion.
Nero cupped Casteel's face gently. Did he know that for a miniscule second Nero had considered doing just that? "Are you strong enough?"
"With you? Yes." Casteel's voice grew steadier, the connection between them feeding strength back into his weakened body. "I need you, Nero. Not just to survive, but..."
"I know," Nero said softly, understanding passing between them without words. This wasn't just about healing the bond anymore. Somewhere in the space between capture and separation, between pain and reunion, something genuine had taken root.
Their lips met, and the kiss was different from their first—less desperate, more reverent. Nero could taste the lingering bitterness of Makim's medicine on Casteel's tongue, but beneath it was something purely him, something that made Nero's chest tighten with an emotion he hadn't felt in years.
As they moved together, skin against skin, the bond flared between them like a struck flame. With each touch, each whispered endearment, the damage from their forced separation healed.
Nero's hands gently traced the planes of Casteel's chest, watching as color returned to the pale skin beneath his touch. The bond hummed between them, stronger now, weaving through their bodies like liquid fire. Casteel arched beneath him, a soft gasp escaping as Nero's mouth found the hollow of his throat.
"Please," Casteel breathed, his fingers tangling in Nero's dark hair. "I need to feel you. All of you."
Nero reached for the oil with trembling hands, warming it between his palms before touching Casteel with infinite care. The younger man's body welcomed him, pliant and eager. When Nero finally pressed inside, they both cried out—not just from physical sensation, but from the way their bond blazed to life.
They moved together slowly at first, Nero mindful of Casteel's weakened state. But as their connection deepened, as the bond knitted their souls together with threads of silver fire, urgency overtook gentleness. Casteel's legs wrapped around Nero's waist, pulling him deeper, demanding more.
"The mark," Casteel gasped, tilting his head to expose the vulnerable curve of his neck. "Renew it. Make it permanent."
Nero's teeth found the original bite, pressing down until he tasted copper on his tongue. Casteel's back bowed off the bed, his release spilling hot between them as the bond completed itself with a flash of brilliant light. Nero followed him over the edge, pouring himself into his mate as magic settled into their bones like molten gold.
For long moments they lay entwined, breathing hard, feeling the bond pulse steady and strong between them. The bite mark on Casteel's throat had transformed—no longer angry and inflamed, but a beautiful silver scar that seemed to shimmer in the lamplight.
"How do you feel?" Nero asked, pressing gentle kisses to Casteel's temple.
"Whole," Casteel replied without hesitation. "For the first time in my life, I feel whole."
Nero was about to respond when heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. They both tensed, the sound cutting through their post-bond haze like a blade. The footsteps stopped directly outside their door, followed by the ominous scrape of a key turning in the lock.
The doors burst open to reveal High Priest Doran flanked by a dozen armed guards. His eyes swept over their naked, intertwined forms with cold satisfaction.
"Excellent," he said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "The bond is complete. Guards—prepare them for the coronation ceremony. The people are already gathering in the square, and we cannot keep them waiting any longer."
