It was right before dawn when the black wolf Heller found his pack.

The verdant blue-green of the forest was how he remembered it, shadowed, fogged and deadly to any that didn’t belong. What would have been a simple wood was magically enhanced by his pack’s sorcery. Heller had found the warnings of new traps, scents that spooked his wolf and kept him from trails that two years ago had been safe. He found the remains of those less lucky, shredded bodies of the cursed that had dared to stalk in their territory during the full moon. There were more than a few picked away corpses left as a warning to those that might come next moon. It made Heller uneasy. The werewolves had rarely dared into their territory before. What had changed that made the crazed howlers think they could stand a chance?

The group of shifters was occupying one of the many private estates belonging to Vale. It was the west facing villa built right by the steep ravine, fortified and protected by both magic and the natural lay of the land. It was another concern because Vale had refrained from opening this last house for years because of the sentimental association it had for the alpha. Something had changed in the dynamic while Heller had been away and he hoped he had not lost his pale leader while he had sat in prison.

As Heller slipped into the manor, his dark paws padding near silent on the tile, he was overwhelmed with the scents of his pack. Breathing in, he could feel the last two years try to seep out of his bones and fur to be replaced with warmth and a feeling of security he had long thought gone. Home. It didn’t matter which building be it hovel or mansion; as long as his pack was there he was home.

He found his pack in the middle of the common room, the group of men, shifted wolves and dogs stretched out on the floor in a pile of fur, limbs and pillows, a few human mates and females among them. Heller recognized nearly all of them. Even though Vale was not among them, he had no fear that his alpha was nearby for the man’s scent was everywhere, still fresh and vibrant. Pack life was like no other. It provided many with a family beyond what they had been born into with stronger bonds and deeper loyalties that connected them together through magic and beast. Heller had not truly felt the loss of such a life until finally returning home.

Stepping surefootedly between the warm, hard bodies of his pack, Heller was greeted welcomingly if not sleepily. He took the spot between Blade and a fluffy Rusty and promptly curled up on the hardwood floor and sighed heavily. With his pack around him, it was nothing for him to close his eyes and slip into the darkness, for the first time free of the fear that had haunted him the last long months. Finally, Heller let himself sleep.

***

Heller felt his pack leave him while the light of day warmed him, their scents clinging and keeping him safe. There were more than a few wet tongues kissing his snout as they left, hands petting him gently before they slipped away to go about their day. Shadowed and familiar, it was the kindest dream he’d had. He wasn’t roused from his deep sleep until hours later and only because of the pale, bare feet of his alpha standing before him, patiently waiting for him to awake. It might have been two years, but Heller was not one to deny Vale anything.

“You made it.”

Heller stretched and then shifted into his human form, sitting for a dazed moment on the floor as he adjusted. “Barely,” he grunted, peering up through his long, black tangle of hair to take in the form of his pack leader. It was strange to see Vale immaculate as always, his white hair sleek and thrown over his shoulder, aristocratic features calm with a hint of haughtiness that only added to the man’s charm. His muscular form was toned and compact and currently dressed in a thin pair of white pants, downplaying the power the man held physically and magically. Vale was a force and even if his human form showed him to be serene and still, his wolf form was a white beast of size and strength none were able to match.

Vale looked the same as always while Heller knew the man saw a different story as he gazed down at him. He had been changed; too thin, face unshaven and dirty. His blue eyes were different as if prison had drained a vitality from him and replaced it with madness. He had always been hard to tame but Heller was now more wild and manic than ever. He felt very much unworthy to kneel before his beautiful alpha after all that he had been through, all that he had survived and ruined to make it this far.

Silver eyes assessing the brunette for long minutes, Vale reached his hand out. The warmth of the man’s hand was a jolt to Heller’s senses, his fingers curling and gripping his pack leader’s palm tightly. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, avoiding Vale’s piercing gaze as he swayed unsteadily for a moment. His alpha refused to release his hand and Heller didn’t complain, drawing strength from the simple connection.

“How was the escape route?”

Heller huffed. “I had to go through the entire cursed town. Ended up in the Wastes and nearly lost my nose… and my mind. There was nothing easy about that route.” He dared to meet the man’s patient gaze, glaring back almost challengingly as he waited for whatever judgment Vale had for him.

None came. Reading his gaze for another silent moment, Vale pulled Heller into a fierce embrace, wrapping the taller brunette so tight, Heller wasn’t sure he’d be able to breathe. Still, he hugged him back just as tightly, a desperation in his movements and the sting of tears to his eyes that threatened to have him fall apart if he let go too soon.

Heller sank into the feeling of Vale scenting him, the blond breathing him in deep and ingraining him into his memory. The man was always quiet—except when he was angry, then Vale was quiet and bloody. Very much a ghost, the pack leader had moon pale skin and nearly as white hair, his long silky locks looking to belong to a much older man. Many shifters aged differently, some were even thought to be immortal. Heller didn’t know Vale’s true age but he knew he looked only in his late thirties, all tall, limber muscle and cold, icy silver eyes. He had looked the same when Heller had joined Vale’s pack over twenty years ago when the brunette had turned fifteen. There was no one he trusted more than his white wolf alpha.

Vale pulled away all too soon, Heller left feeling lost and confused to no longer have the man’s warmth and strength around him. “Have you eaten?” Vale asked, eyes again reading something on his face he wished he could hide. “Flint saved you some breakfast.”

“I’m starving,” Heller admitted brusquely, summoning a pair of loose drawstring pants to step into. Two years had filled him with such coldness and he couldn’t find the words for anything just yet. He was home but he didn’t know if it was the same, if he still fit after so much time. Vale seemed to sense his distress, the shorter man wrapping an arm around Heller’s back and holding his bicep as they walked towards the kitchens as if afraid he would disappear if he let go.

“I didn’t expect to find the pack here,” Heller muttered, glancing around the manor as he tried to gain his bearings. He had been to the villa more times than he cared to remember, always alone with his pack leader. It had not only been a fortress to keep enemies out but also to imprison those that were too dangerous to let loose. Knowing his pack was living there was a concern on a different level for Heller.

“I had little choice in the matter,” Vale said simply. “The potion is still effective.”

Heller glanced sideways at the man, wondering how many months Vale had spent wondering if his pack would be wiped out from inside the manor instead of from without.

Shifter wolf packs were more necessity than tradition. There had been a time when shifters hadn’t felt the need to stay together beyond family, especially when the world had opened up with technology and communication. Magic and a simple internet connection could give every available luxury a shifter could dream of. But that was for other shifters, ones that didn’t have to face the cursed.

No one was sure exactly where the source of the werewolf population sprang from. There had of course been legends as far back as humans had been able to write, and before that, when they shared their tales around the fire. Werewolves had always existed in small numbers as had shifters, but something had changed less than a hundred years ago that had spread the werewolf infliction through the population. For a time, every month a new town was infected, the epidemic threatening to take out all of Europe and America until someone had finally made a stand.

Magic users were not the type to work together. They were freelancers at their best, egomaniacal and power hungry on a normal day; sorcerers and sorceresses were more likely to exploit a situation than save humanity. Shifters, not always strong in magic but magical enough to transform into their inner animal, were less prone to self-centered thinking but still preferred to be left alone. If the cursed hadn’t been enraged by the scent of all canines, including the shifters that transformed into the four-legged creatures, the wolf packs may have never taken on the task of destroying the werewolf population. But they had, and after word had gotten out that the cursed were systematically hunting and murdering every canine shifter they could find whether the moon was full or not, they’d had little choice. They could either fight back or be wiped out.

Packs had started to form beyond just family bonds, growing out of a need for survival. Sorcery was taught to every member no matter how little they had the skill. Werewolves had a magic to their cursed forms and physical attack alone could not harm them when they were transformed. Defenses and ways to single out a werewolf in the light of day and far from the full moon were adapted over time. They had even started working on potions in the hopes of finding a cure for the cursed, and if not that, at least a way to keep them from their beserker, howler ways when the moon did hit them.

The shifter wolf packs had come a long way in a short amount of time and while they had struggled to survive, the werewolf population had started to balance from their full out murderous assault and began to police themselves as only their kind could. Leaders had risen up among them, more intelligent and in control of their instincts than the untamed cursed. They had formed gangs that controlled territories, demanding loyalty from the werewolves and humans that if not given was met with ruthless, joyful violence. The shifters had not stopped their war for survival but they enjoyed the lull while the werewolf gangs fought each other for dominance of the cities.

Of the twenty-some shifters that made up Vale’s pack, they consisted mostly of wolves and a few large dog. All of them were accomplished sorcerers, powerful in magic in a way few shifters could claim. Most lived with their spouses and children, a few choosing to move as far away from Dogtowne as possible once they had bred even if it meant losing the pack’s immediate protection. Pack life was unique but it wasn’t always healthy for families. Their days were filled with magic, strategies, and patrols, ever watching the moon and anticipating the bloody fight to come.

Vale had one of the most powerful shifter packs around and Heller had once been second in command to his charismatic alpha. But that had been before the murder of Lorna by the werewolves, before he had been falsely convicted and imprisoned. Heller had no idea where he stood with his pack anymore or the enigmatic man he called alpha.

“I saw the dead cursed in the woods,” Heller remarked, his eyes sliding to what could only be a mounted cursed head. Someone had taken the time to preserve the hideous piece, the strange distortion of human and wolf face twisted in its final death throws. “Fresh. No older than a moon.”

Vale nodded, his grip on Heller’s shoulder tightening for a moment. “I had a room set up for you,” he said in his quiet way, eyes fixed straight ahead. “All your things are there; instruments, spell books, clothing. Even that dreadful ficus that you refused to let die. I need to leave soon—We’re in the middle of a crisis. But I thought you could settle in, get caught up with the pack for now. I’m sure you’re tired.”

Heller growled, trying to pull away, only to have Vale hold his arm tighter.

“I’m not excluding you. You’ve been on the run for weeks, Heller,” Vale said calmly. “You need rest and there is little of that outside these walls.”

“It was prison, not a retirement home,” Heller snapped. “I can help. I… Well, I actually might need your assistance for something.”

Vale raised a pale eyebrow, releasing the brunette once they reached the kitchen. The room was huge, tiled and filled with stainless steel appliances to go with the three large refrigerators and walk-in freezer. Shifters required a lot of food to handle their advanced metabolism. What they hunted and didn’t eat, they froze for later. Food was already out, meat and vegetables waiting at the kitchen island making Heller’s stomach growl at the scent.

“Is this someone from the prison?” Vale asked while Heller threw himself across the room at the plate.

“No, nothing like that.” Heller summoned his jacket one handed while grabbing a fork with the other. “Upper left pocket. Vial. I ran across some sort of… Well, I’ll let you decide what the hell he was. Small, likely a runt if anything.”

Vale caught the long coat when it was thrown to him, picking through Heller’s pockets until finding the item he was talking about. “Sperm?” He asked, his voice reflecting growing confusion.

“Smell it,” Heller grunted, his mouth full. Food had been sparse the last month, nonexistent his last week running for his life. That he felt hunger he took as a good sign that his body hadn’t given up just yet. Each bite was a return to himself, a reminder he wasn’t starving, wasn’t running. Home. He had made it home.

Eyebrow again raised, Vale stared curiously at the small vial, eventually popping the lid to give the contents a hesitant sniff. “Son of a—Fuck!” He snarled, immediately capping the vial and grabbing onto the nearest stool to keep from falling to the ground. “Heller… What the fuck are you trying to do to me?” He snapped, silver eyes flashing warningly.

“Just tell me what he is, Vale,” Heller said, not looking remotely apologetic as the pale man swayed and grasped the kitchen island hard. “I need to know I’m not going crazy here.”

“Bitch,” Vale gritted out, his glare only growing as his trembling arms gave out and he fell chest first against the marble top. “Fuck… Fuck, Heller, you know what that scent does to me.”

“It’s stronger, right? Stronger than a normal bitch scent?” Heller pressed, dropping his fork as he reached over and took the vial from his alpha’s fingers before the man accidentally crushed it.

“Yeah… He has some sort of magical enhancement. Whoever he is, he’s powerful.” Vale continued to glare, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he tried to gain control of himself. “Who is he? Is he in our territory?”

Heller grinned, his fangs glinting as he leaned down next to the panting man and met his gaze. “He lives in the Wastes.”

“What?” Vale wrinkled his nose in confusion. “In the dump?”

“He doesn’t even know how to transform. His parents are dead. Lives with some dick that thinks shifters are the devil.”

Vale furrowed his brow, trying to focus on what the brunette was saying. “But he’s a shifter… How could he have been left behind? We always collect our own.”

“He said werewolves killed his family.” Heller paused, fingers combing into Vale’s long, white hair, his alpha exhaling loudly from the touch. “He doesn’t know he’s a shifter. He’s confused, scared… He begged so pretty when he took my wolf’s knot. Wanted it so bad.”

Vale whimpered, turning his head so he was face to face with the brunette. “Heller.”

“Made me think of you, beautiful. How much you need it at times.” God but his alpha was beautiful like this. Heller tilted his head so he was resting it on the table, his mouth brushing close to Vale’s red lips. “You get so desperate to be filled. Do you want that, Vale? Do you want me?”

“Please,” Vale whispered, arching his back with a moan. “I missed you. Need you.”

Pulling a cigarette free, Darien lit it up in the hall the moment he stepped outside Beau’s classroom. His teach was trying to get some food down and he just needed to get the fuck out and breathe for a second. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something, and scream, and hunt down and destroy the fucker that had hurt his Beau. Instead, he was going to smoke for a minute then go back in and pretend he wasn’t a fucking mess inside so that the blond could feel safe.

Why the fuck hadn’t Beau called him?

He looked over to where Roland was typing on his phone, the man doing his magic with the guys back at their office to find every bit of information available on Collin Hayward. Darien hadn’t bothered to tell Beau that the business he had started when he was back in high school involved the finding of sensitive information and then the blackmailing of people that gave a fuck about if that information was shared. He had started the company with a few ex-military friends, some he had gone to school with, some who he knew from other connections. Once, he had thought he’d be using them just to find out if his father was looking to fuck with his life again. Now he had a feeling he might have to see if Roland knew how to hide a body depending on how bad the night went.

“Do you want me to call in a doctor?”

Darien shook his head sharply. “Not unless he asks for one.”

“Boss, he was practically catatonic when we got here. For all we know, his brain took a bruising from that hit to his face.”

Blowing a steady stream of smoke, Darien didn’t bother to answer. His teach could take a punch. He had seen him take worse at the hands of Blake and his bitch friends and hadn’t missed a fucking beat. No, his teach had gotten down on his knees, sucked him off like a pro, and then rode his fingers until he came. Pain was not a deterrent for the blond but an aphrodisiac. If Beau wanted a doctor, he’d ask. It was one of the many rules they had set up to make sure the blond wasn’t getting himself in too deep. Except, even with everything Darien had done, Beau had still managed to get hurt the second he was out of his sight.

Beau wouldn’t let him hire a bodyguard. It had been a huge sore spot for Darien, one that he was pretty sure was about to blow up after this. He just wanted to have a familiar guy with his teach, someone he could trust to make sure nothing went down when he couldn’t be there. But Beau thought he was being silly. The man didn’t want people thinking he was someone special or some stupid shit like that. But Beau was special. His teach was his fucking life and today had been a new kind of hell for Darien when the man hadn’t shown up for dinner.

He shouldn’t have let him leave without a bodyguard. He should have locked the man up in the fucking house and made him quit his shitty job. There was just something about Beau, something in his eyes that called to certain individuals to feed his need for pain. It made them want to hurt him, use him, and when his pretty teach was in the right headspace, Beau loved ever second of it and begged for more. But that was only when he was in that headspace and with someone that actually gave a fuck enough to figure out what he liked.

Tears. Fucking tears in those beautiful blue eyes, and not in a sexy way. No, in a fucking helpless way that wrenched Darien’s heart too painful to fathom. Beau could take a fucking punch but this thing, whatever had happened, it had hurt him in a way pain didn’t. He was doing his damndest to not imagine just how exactly that could have been.

“I gotta make some calls,” he finally said, crushing his cigarette beneath his heel and scraping it into the tile. “I want that fucker found, and I want him brought here tonight.”

“Here?” Roland looked up, pulling a second phone out while he continued typing one-handed on the first. “The school?”

Darien nodded, ignoring the questioning look his head of security was sending him. He needed to make sure that whatever had happened hadn’t fucked up his pretty teach forever. Beau had a special kind of wiring, one that demanded the right knowledge and a skilled touch. He knew the longer the problem stretched on and festered, the harder it would be to get Beau feeling like himself again. He wanted things taken care of asap. The fact that part of it involved beating the shit out of the deadman that had touched his Beau was just a total perk.

“We got him,” Roland called out before the boy could leave, pushing off the wall. “He just used his credit card in a restaurant less than twenty minutes away.”

“Danny?”

“Already on the way with Jordan. How do you want this guy brought in, boss?”

Darien considered, eying the picture Roland held up on the screen of his phone. “Keep him pretty. I want to fuck him up myself. Let me know when they get him here, but not in front of the teach.”

Roland nodded, texting as Darien spoke. “The guys dug up some more shit on him. Hayward was in a heavy scene about five years back. Used to frequent an underground club. Few regulations, lots of drugs. They were known for some pretty fucked up doms. A young man ended up dead and the place was shut down. Looks like Hayward’s aunt threw some money at some people and no one is saying shit.” He glanced up when Darien growled, fixing the boy with a look. “Hey, this is good news. With info like this, you have this guy by the balls.”

Darien just grunted, fighting back his anger and the pit of seething emotion beneath it. “You remember that kid I asked you to keep an eye on a few weeks back? Sutor’s brother, Rich? Did he ever get back to us on that thing we discussed?”

Roland nodded, already flipping through his other phone. “He seemed agreeable enough to it. Clean record. Able to listen.”

“I want him down here.” Hopefully, it would fix it.

In that moment, he felt like he was fighting fire with fire while holding onto the foolish hope the place wouldn’t burn down. But that was what Darien did. Every day he pushed forward, demanded the best from himself and everyone around him, and he prayed he wouldn’t trip and be stopped flat. Being with Beau had changed that. He had been allowed to take a beautiful soul and feed it, nurture it and give his teach everything the man could ever desire and he had felt at peace from it. Until someone had tried to take his teach away from him. Now Darien was back to trying to keep ahead of the consequences at breakneck speed while hoping he wouldn’t crash.

He had to suck it up. Push through and keep his eye on the prize along with every other cliche fucking saying that would help him get through this. Not for him but for Beau. His teach needed him strong. Darien didn’t feel strong; he felt absolutely out of control. The one man he gave a fuck about had been assaulted and he hadn’t been able to do a thing. He hadn’t even known until hours later. It didn’t matter what he did to this Hayward dick in retribution, it wouldn’t change the fact that he had failed Beau, that he could fail him again at any time. He could wrap the blond in fucking bubble wrap and order him to stay at his feet but Beau was going to pursue the things that brought him joy even when pain swiftly followed.

Sighing, he lit up another cigarette. He didn’t take pain as well as Beau did. He didn’t like to feel pain; he liked to push past it and let it spur him into action. Watching his pretty teach take pain was an experience unmatched by any other. The man was beautiful—strong in such a way he was never going to be, and so fucking beautiful. The man embraced the good and the bad, the pleasure and pain, and he transformed it into something beyond with his own body. Beau was fucking magic and didn’t even know it.

It didn’t matter how hard Darien pushed himself. Life wasn’t scripted and there was always something waiting in the dark to try and prey on the weak and unlucky. He could only protect his teach to the best of his ability and hope that Beau would be able to take the burden of pain when he failed. He’d be able to carry his teach through after, but he couldn’t change the fucking world that would break the man in the first place.

He’s ours…

Sitting in the large, sun-soaked cafeteria with the voices of excited students all around him, Daniel could not look away from Mason Blackthorne. It was a problem, and not a new one. He’d had a thing for the blond for years now, but lately things were getting worse. Dangerous. Something was different about Mason and it was driving him crazy.

Oh, he still looked the same. Mason Blackthorne was one of the hottest sorcerers Daniel had ever met, and that was saying something. With enough magic everyone looked damn sexy. It was just something innate about using the power, like the magic sank into the cells and transformed the wielder with each spell. Daniel was used to being surrounded by beautiful people, was used to being one himself with his dark hair and strange, gold eyes, yet Mason managed to stand out like a glowing flame to his senses.

To call Mason pale would be an understatement. The boy’s skin was pure cream, his hair platinum white. Average height but lithe and toned, Mason was a glint of moonlight most of the time, the only color he revealed being his red lips and maddening cerulean eyes that glowed in certain light. Mason was stunning and Daniel wished that was the reason he couldn’t stop staring at him.

He tried valiantly to focus on what his best friends William and Tiana were saying across from him at the table. The couple was getting an apartment together, both of them having already applied and been accepted as magical regulators in training. He didn’t want to think about the fact that it was his last day at the Academy of Magical Arts and Sorcery. Daniel was giving up magic and hadn’t told anyone yet. It was for the best. It was time to finally let magic and Mason Blackthorne go for good.

It was the only answer. Surely anything else would lead to him destroying the beautiful boy and himself in the process.

Daniel didn’t want to live in a world of magic. After four years of advanced sorcerer training, he no longer had any doubts. It didn’t matter that he had raw talent and even greater power. He had been named an Elite, a title bestowed on only the most illustrious of sorcery students, Daniel being the only one during the last five years to receive the honor. Since the title, he had been interview repeatedly in three different newspapers, offered two internships, one of them into the Council of Esteemed, and had received two dozen offers from Masters around the world hoping he would choose them for formal apprenticeship. Daniel had the magical world in the palm of his hand and he was determined to leave it all behind.

Unfortunately there was a loud, roaring, bloodthirsty beast inside of him that wanted to stay.

Ours… We must make him ours…

It had been a difficult year. Two months ago Daniel had lost his chronically ill grandmother, his only guardian since he was a small child. It had almost been a relief when Sofia Warweaver finally passed away. Even though he was away at what would be considered the equivalent of college in an academic setting, the majority of his attention had been spent dealing with the doctors and nurses keeping the sorceress alive. Her mind had failed in the end, the women a shadow of her former powerful glory as the curse that had been cast on her before Daniel was born took its slow, torturous course of eating her away.

It had been a reminder to him of just what magic did, even to the most powerful. And his Grandmum had been one of the greats. Older than what she claimed, certainly, although she managed to look under forty when Daniel last saw her, she had lost both her son and daughter to terrible warlocks over twenty years ago, that daughter being Daniel’s mother. For all her power, she had not been able to save either of her children and it had broken her more than the curse that struck her down.

Take him… Claim him…

Daniel, eyes having managed to find their way to his breakfast of scrambled eggs and ham, slowly looked back up to where Mason was chatting obliviously with his friends.

You can smell him… He wants us… He’s aching for us…

“Shut the fuck up,” Daniel muttered under his breath. His beast did not, growling lowly in his ear, commenting on all the ways Mason chose to not look in his direction, the boy blatantly ignoring them like the little flirt he was.

Over the table… He won’t fight us… He’s begging for us… Just cross the room, push him down to the table, and take him… He’ll give in… He wants to give in to us…

Daniel was not a crazy person, even if he did have a dark voice rumbling in his ear to fuck Mason Blackthorne senseless. He was a shifter, one of the rare mythical shifters at that. The beast inside of him had never walked the earth in any other form, waking up in the oldest, strongest family bloodlines to experience life with a human host. It was supposed to be a great honor to hold a beast within. Daniel had found out very quickly that it was not, the blood lion within him an absolute menace. The moment it had woken up he had caged the beast to keep it from taking over his body and transforming him into a wild animal. No, Daniel wasn’t a crazy person, but if he had to deal with the beast roaring over Mason Blackthorne for another month, he was going to go out of his fucking mind.

He looks good today…

Mason did, in fact, look fucking hot as hell, the boy dressed in tailored slacks and a collared short-sleeved shirt like the privileged preppy brat he was. His biceps, tight and toned, were looking particularly interesting as the blond leaned his elbows on the table to talk to his neighbor, cerulean eyes lighting ever so subtly on Daniel’s intense stare before looking away with a small grin.

He wants us… We should take him… Have him… Keep him…

“Shut up, you stupid furball,” Daniel muttered, wishing Mason would stop grinning every time he looked his way.

He’ll be tight… Loud… His cries for us will echo off the walls…

Daniel really needed to get the fuck out of there. It was the last day of class. Tomorrow he’d be officially graduated and no longer required to share a cafeteria, hallway, or classroom with Mason. Just one more day to endure, and he’d be free from this insanity.

“Seeing as you’re talking to yourself, I’m going to assume you haven’t been listening?” William broke in, only looking slightly annoyed when Daniel glanced at him blankly. William, tall with light brown hair and dark eyes, had been attempting to draw Daniel into conversation for the last ten minutes. His failure was only mildly disheartening, having grown used to his friend’s strange behavior. “Blackthorne?” He asked when Daniel’s golden gaze began slipping away again. “Has he hexed you again?”

Grunting noncommittally, Daniel forced his attention to William and Tiana’s expectant faces. He hadn’t felt it necessary to reveal to his friends of four years that lately whenever he was fighting with Mason he was also trying to hold back the beast from tearing the boy’s clothes off. The two knew about the Blood King inside him and had accepted a lot of weird behavior from him as the consequence. Still, some things were just a bit too much to share.

“We were asking if you’d like to join us on our vacation, Daniel,” Tiana spoke up. “I hate to think of you all alone in that big house now that your grandmother has passed away.”

Daniel winced, picking up his fork so he could pretend to eat. “I’m going to be really busy this summer. The Estate needs to be settled, things boxed up—That sort of thing.” He didn’t meet Tiana’s eye. Daniel was actually homeless. With the death of his Grandmum, the large Warweaver Estate had been spelled shut to everyone. He couldn’t even get to his own things until the reading of the will, something that wouldn’t occur for another month. “Besides, you two haven’t had a chance to be alone since you started dating. I’d hate to be a third wheel.”

William shot Daniel a grateful look. Tiana worried too much and William was a bit oblivious, but Daniel loved them both and didn’t want to burden them with his own shit.

He had met his Aunt April for the first time at Sophia’s funeral. He knew the woman existed but she had never contacted him after his father’s death. He hadn’t given much thought to why until face to face with his aunt. She was terrified of magic, and more so, the people that wielded it. Her brother and his family had been obliterated in the blink of an eye and she had not been able to take in the nephew that had survived. Until now, when she had demanded Daniel live with her family that summer until the will was settled. Daniel, with no place left to turn, had hesitantly agreed.

April’s only stipulation was that he didn’t perform magic while at the house. And well, that had been more than fine with him. It would be a summer without magic while finally getting to know the only family he had left in the world. And maybe, if things went well, it would be a lot longer than a summer.

“Oh, the Trinity’s here.” Tiana jumped up, her silky red hair flipping over her shoulders as she scraped her chair back to get a copy of the sorcery rag before they were all snatched up. There were a few different newspapers dedicated just to the magical going ons in the world, even though the main papers still had a section for magic users. Daniel had stopped reading them once he started finding his own face staring out at him since named the newest Elite. It was just bizarre.

He’s calling us… Can’t you feel his power? The dragon is calling us to claim him…

Daniel groaned inwardly, hunching into his seat as he tried to pull his beast from its focus on Mason.

He wants us… If we reveal ourselves he will bend to us… Cry for us…

Daniel wasn’t certain that the King was wrong. Something had changed about Mason. About three months ago when he’d been watching the last of his grandmother’s life slip away, Mason Blackthorne had woken up different and his beast had not shut up since about it.

Mason and Daniel didn’t have a traditional relationship to begin with—Well, unless you counted on the playground. Mason loved to annoy the shit out him every chance he got, from casting little hexes on him, to challenging him in class, to outright sabotaging his homework. The blond just couldn’t leave him alone and Daniel had been more than okay with it.

He enjoyed their strange game, forever transfixed on the vicious expression Mason made right before he struck. They had a bizarre interaction, extremely intense and one that Mason seemed quite happy to pretend was nothing more than childish rivalry even as he fueled Daniel’s attraction into a burning flame. And if he’d been fully human, maybe that would have been easy enough to resist. But the beast inside him full of power and terrible, malevolent instincts had different plans for Mason.

The Blood King found the taunting game fascinating. A lion toying with a soft, fragile mouse, his beast had flexed claws while Mason nibbled, twittered, and fluffed his whiskers whenever Daniel walked into the room. And in response to Daniel’s attention, Mason had become outright teasing, his otherworldly eyes flashing in laughter as he stared too long, hands brushing over him in electric moments as they passed too close. Even lips against his ear once, Mason leaning in to whisper something lewd and asinine while he’d been reading. It had become a very riveting game.

Take him now… He’s calling us, wants us… We must have him…

Then it had all gone to shit.

Mason was no longer a mouse. Months ago something had changed in the boy that made the King stare intrigued and possessive. Snapping, caustic energy, luminous and unrestrained had begun to crackle just beneath the blond’s surface. It was deadly, powerful, and awesomely alluring. To the point that Daniel’s beast could no longer concentrate on anything but said power whenever Mason was near. He’d been forced to push back to keep the blond at arm’s length and safe from his beast. He had enough control over himself, his beast still only a caged animal roaring inside him. But sometimes when Mason came too close, snapped his power too loud with clamping jaws and slashing talons, Daniel lost himself, the beast rearing up to… Well.

Screwing Mason Blackthorne into a wall was not an activity Daniel felt healthy, for himself or the obnoxious, rich brat.

It was an extremely complicated issue, seeing as Mason was fucking gorgeous, adorably snarky, and usually fun to be around when not hexing him. Fine, even when hexing. It didn’t really matter. It was a lost cause, one Daniel should never have indulged in. No matter that Mason flirted with him every chance he got, in cruel, cutting ways to shock him. No matter that his beast roared loud and demanding whenever the boy was near, snapping and rattling its cage until Daniel was brooding and ready to break something for want of the blond. They could never be together.

Even if Mason Blackthorne came to him on hands and knees and begged, Daniel would never, ever, touch the boy, no matter how much he wanted to.

Tiana gave a huff when William began to prod her, finally handing the newspaper over to her boyfriend, who always demanded the sports section before she became ensnared in the pages. Daniel’s eyes were across the room again, watching Mason bow his head as he read his own paper. For the life of him, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off the boy.

Mason was biting his lip, thoughtlessly gnawing on the flushed flesh as he flipped through the oversized pages. His hair, shining blond and silvery, was hanging down loose, soft around his shoulders. Slowly a tint of pink began to reach the perfect, creamy skin of his cheeks as he stopped and started reading intently.

The terrible things he would do with Mason Blackthorne’s lips. The things he would make him say, beg… He could make Mason beg. Beg for more, for harder, and faster, and every drop of seed he had to give him…

“Son of a—Phsssh!” William spluttered, spraying orange juice all over the table and the paper he was reading. “Holy hell,” he uttered between coughs. “The fucking… ass… is getting bonded.”

Daniel wasn’t sure who or what he was referring to, but he was grateful for the distraction. It had been enough to draw his attention from Mason and the heated thoughts swirling in his mind once again. God, he really needed to get the fuck out of there.

“What?” Tiana asked, snatching the paper from William when her boyfriend showed more interest in choking on his drink than finishing his thought. “Oh. My. God.” She gaped, jaw falling open and staying open.

Narrowing his eyes at his friends’ display, Daniel grabbed the damp paper from Tiana’s slack grasp. On the third page a large black and white image of Mason stared back at him, looking restrained and cool with mild hints of nervousness around his mouth. There was no fucking escape from the brat. Daniel resisted the urge to crumple the paper up, instead folding the page so he would not have to stare at Mason Blackthorne’s face as he read the article beneath.

Unreal. Fucking bizarre.

“It’s a joke, right?” Tiana asked. “A dragon? He’s looking for suitors because he’s part dragon? I never saw him as having a beast.”

Daniel shrugged distractedly as he read, realizing he had never mentioned it to his friends. He really didn’t need them to know just how crazy he was about the kid. His eyes followed down to where Selina, Mason’s mother, was said to have passed down strong dragon ancestry to her son when conceived. Dragon genes were prominent in the Rowe family bloodline and woke up during the early twenties.

William shook his head, finally able to get his coughing under control. “Being part dragon isn’t the issue. He’s a conduit. Anyone looking for a hit of power will be running him down to force a bond.”

Daniel then got to that part; the very special ability Mason had locked inside him. Unimaginable power that the boy couldn’t access alone but his bondmate could, the sorcerer of choice capable of wielding it however he so desired.

Daniel paused, taking a slow breath as his blood lion gave a rattle to its cage. That would be the wild power that had been driving his beast insane lately. It wasn’t unique… it wasn’t just him. Every beast that got a look at Mason would sense it too. They would all want him.

He is ours…

Daniel ignored the creature and turned back to the paper. Mason needed a bondmate, soon, before some power hungry jackass decided that they’d have that power no matter how the boy felt about it. And the mate had to be powerful and fierce because those power hungry madmen would have no issue in killing Mason’s chosen just to chain the dragon and have it at beck and call exclusively.

It was a chilling situation, Daniel’s mind wandering to his dead parents and sister, their lives cut down because of insane men that had wanted power so much they had drained it from the living. It was the seedy dark side to sorcery no one talked about; insatiable greed in the hands of powerful men. Mason wouldn’t be killed, but he would be enslaved for the rest of his life, some monster draining him dry whenever he wished if the boy were captured.

Mason would be seeing suitors that summer, going through a selection process to find an acceptable bondmate. Until then, the boy would be locked in his house, protected from any maniac that would try to kidnap and force a bond on him.

Daniel threw the paper into Tiana’s waiting hands, scowling darkly at the table top. Suitors. How many fucking sorcerers wanted into Mason’s pants? Probably a shit ton if they only had a look at the gorgeous boy. Fucking absurd. With furious restraint, Daniel raised his eyes and sought out Mason’s face across the room.

The blond was in full out angry blush, pink having turned to red as he ripped his paper in half right down the middle of his photo. His parents must have had the article published in the hopes of attracting eligible suitors. Mason’s handsomeness, wealth, and many talents had been listed at the end, most with glaring tones of innuendo.

“I don’t understand,” Tiana mused aloud, reading through the article again. “Why are they calling for powerful sorcerers? Wouldn’t Blackthorne want to be bonded to a sorceress? I mean, bonding is like some antiquated form of marriage, but with magic.”

“He’s gay,” Daniel said darkly, eyes fixed on Mason, who was taking the torn pieces and ripping them again, slowly turning the paper into a mess of long strips. Gay, containing a dragon, and apparently a conduit. How many fucking sorcerers would be chasing after the boy now?

“Oh… Ohhh.” Tiana blinked up, looking at Daniel. “Is that something… Like, you can tell your own kind?”

He glanced her way, the corners of his mouth curling in a grim smirk. “As in beast, or as in fag? Both seem to apply.”

Tiana nodded mutely, then turned back to the article. Only to look up again, eyebrows raised inquiringly. “So are you going to…?”

Slowly and deliberately, Daniel turned his full attention to Tiana while William spluttered again on his juice beside her. “Tia, I want you to finish that sentence. And then I want you to stop and realize just how fucking halfwitted you are.”

Tiana glared, staring Daniel down as her ill-tempered friend tried to intimidate her. She had grown used to his foul moods and dark power years ago and never allowed it to get the best of her. “You are both gay. You both apparently have powerful beasts. And you are both absolutely and madly obsessed with each other,” she hissed lowly. “It is not an unreasonable thought that you might want to date him.”

“You are out of your goddamn mind,” Daniel growled, hands biting into the wood of the table as he gripped hard. It didn’t matter that his beast was agreeing with the girl, very much wanting to claim Mason, and preferably before any competition showed up.

“Yeah? Then why are you so angry?” Tiana shot back, picking up the paper and unfurling so he was forced to stare at Mason’s obnoxiously attractive face. She knew Daniel wanted Blackthorne, for years now. She just couldn’t figure out why he refused to admit it, especially since he’d apparently known the kid was gay the whole time.

William, once again gaining control of his coughing, crushed the paper down, grabbed Tiana around the waist, and pulled her against his tall form so that she fell away from Daniel’s menacing glare. “Tia, you’re sticking your nose in it.”

“He called me a halfwit!” She muttered with a petulant huff.

“He’s going to do a hell of a lot worse if you don’t stop pissing him off about the pain in the ass. Daniel, calm down!” William ordered, slamming his fist loudly on the table to break Daniel from his angry, low growl.

Daniel blinked out of his glower, looking up and around while the other students sitting at the table gave him wary glares. He had become rather dangerous lately, prone to moods and violent outbursts at the slightest of provocation since Mason’s energy had started sparking. He hadn’t hurt anyone yet, that they knew of, but it seemed to be only a matter of time.

Scowling darkly, Daniel’s gaze once again trailed over to where Mason was sitting, only to meet an answering blue glare. Fucking Blackthorne.

He flipped the blond off, rewarded with a vicious snarl and a returning rude hand gesture. Then the fucker blew him a kiss, his beast practically salivating at the sight, and Daniel got up and stormed out of the cafeteria.

***

Glare following as Daniel left, Mason turned to Jackson. “Fucking Cross.”

Jackson Falkner just rolled his ice-blue eyes, ducking beneath long black hair and reading the paper he had refused to let Mason tear up. His friend had issues with Daniel Cross, usually resulting in endless, drawn out monologues filled with more obscenities than usable words. Not commenting was the only way to keep from encouraging Mason into said rants.

Unfortunately, Mason rarely needed the encouragement, and this was one of those times.

“Fucking headcase, probably making fun of me with his fucktard friends. Like I wanted my fucking life put in the damn paper like a damn fucking fool. Now the whole fucking school knows I’m not only a fucking conduit beast, but that I also like cock. Fucking shithead, crazy ass, Cross.”

Jackson didn’t bother pointing out that Cross had actually no fault in Mason’s life being dragged out in the paper. It was exclusively his friend’s terrible, manipulative parents. Mason’s parents were always doing things to embarrass the boy, to the point that Jackson wondered if it wasn’t intentional. Really, a call for a bondmate didn’t need such details. Those were normally given later in privacy once an interested suitor had approached.

“What exactly makes your parents think you can blow as good as you get?” Suzy drawled, her long blond hair sparkling in the light, brown eyes flashing teasingly as Mason turned his glare to her. “Is this something they’ve seen first hand? Or do you just share far too much information?”

“Fuck off,” Mason grumbled, trying to grab her paper so he could destroy it, only to have her hold it out of reach.

“Oh no, I’m framing this. And did you see Cross? He was pissed. Must be jealous he has competition for your special, freakish affection.”

Mason rolled his eyes, stabbing his fork into the table until it stood vertically into the wood. Suzy had a theory, the miserable bitch, and insisted on trotting it out every time Cross showed any emotion towards him. Of course, most Cross ever showed towards him was anger, even more explosive recently than before. Mason didn’t know what the asshole’s problem was and he didn’t fucking care. It just made things more fun when he sabotaged his spellwork.

“They’ve gone too far,” Jackson interjected before Suzy could once again run down her many reasons she was certain Cross was gagging for Mason’s dick. “Mentioning you were a conduit before you’re bonded—They’ve put you in serious danger. You’re not even safely hidden within your ancestry walls yet.”

Mason bit his lip, well aware. His parents meant well, in their overbearing arrogant need to show him off, and themselves as a result. But letting the whole fucking world know that he was a conduit was asking for every crazy warlock in the vicinity to come knocking on the Academy’s front door to kidnap and rape him. It was concerning, to say the least.

“Stupid fucking Cross and his fucking show off Elite power. Couldn’t get a goddamn article on that championship duel he won to bump this fucking disaster my fucking parents put out. Fuck, fuck, fuck… fuck… fuck…” Mason started dropping his head on the table, clunking repeatedly to every muttered curse. It helped a little.

Jackson reached over and placed his dark hand beneath his friend’s forehead before he could smash his brains out. “This needs a strategy. What the fuck are you going to do? You’re putting everyone at risk as long as you’re here.”

Mason glared, resting his face in Jackson’s palm. “I suppose I’ll find the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the school and have him make me his bitch.”

Jackson raised a brow while Suzy cackled happily and clapped. It was difficult to argue with the girl when Mason kept saying things that clearly showed an interest in the Elite sorcerer. He might not have been particularly tall or muscular, but Cross was the most powerful sorcerer to come out of the Academy in years. The kid had become damn near beastly in attitude, and no one could match him in fighting or much anything else for that matter. “Or instead of letting Cross fuck you, you could, you know, take a portal home.”

“Whatever,” Mason muttered, shutting his eyes.

It was bad enough he had to go through finding a suitable bondmate while so young and for such dire reasons. But now he had to do it while all his fucking classmates knew. He’d been able to get away with the other aspects that had arisen when his beast had woken up and started prowling. This was apparently the end of that.

No one had seen his physical changes associated with it, at least, not the weird ones. He had grown, his already toned body lengthening and strengthening to manifest the dragon now curled within him. But no one had seen the horns, or the scales, or even the claws, fangs, and wings. Even though power buzzed inside him, no one had noticed his spells becoming more powerful and explosive.

If he craved raw red meat once in a while, no one called him on it. Nor when he started sniffing people as they passed, seeking out information and potential suitors. So he was a little more surly, a little more cutting and vicious; not really anything to write home about. Mason had never actually been nice before.

But this. This fucking article business. This was nearly everything laid out in black and white. This was mortifying, not to mention dangerous. As strong as he had become when his beast awoke, he was not invincible. Part of his existence was to empower another, not wield such power himself. His dragon craved desperately for a companion to help ensure his survival. A protector. A lover.

Very much the last one.

The beast was preposterously horny. Like, fucking on your knees, begging for dick, horny. It was embarrassing. He had a permanent spell on all his underwear just to keep from looking like a degenerate around the academy. Thankfully no one noticed his constant tang of sex scent, no other beasts in the school to respond.

Well, except for fucking Cross. Daniel had never said a word to anyone, had never even suggested that he was more than human, but the day Mason’s dragon had woken, every telltale sign of the beast was suddenly blaring loud to his senses and impossible to ignore. Daniel was something, something powerful, and he wouldn’t let it out. Which was just like stupid, noble Cross. The kid had a stick up his ass that had only lodged in deeper since he’d been named an Elite. Always going on about not abusing magic, that the dark arts were the killer of the soul, blah, fucking blah. Daniel was a moralistic bore that wouldn’t cast a dark spell to save his own fucking life.

The jackass had also outright ignored everything Mason had thrown at him. Even when he’d managed to look like he’d accidentally fallen right into the Elite’s lap yesterday. The fucker had lifted him up like he weighed nothing at all, placed him on his feet, and left the class they were sharing even though there had been a half hour left. Daniel had started ignoring him, not responding to his pranks or taunts like he used to, and it was getting really fucking annoying.

Not that he wanted Cross, with his brooding moods, and fucking wild gold eyes, and sexy mouth… His inky black hair always mussed up in a stylish, freshly fucked look, his skin a warm, golden tan with that fit, toned body that just begged to be touched and kissed and licked… Damn it.

Fuck Cross, the fucking asshole. Fuck him hard, and deep, and on his fucking knees like the fucking slut he was.

“Mason, stop drooling on my hand,” Jackson complained, wrenching his hand out from beneath his head to let the blond clunk on the table.

Mason blinked up, not certain when his thoughts had once again strayed. The fucking dragon was misery; horny, powerful, and a glowing damn target for every eligible psycho in the area. It had also fixated on Cross like the boy was catnip, trying to get Mason to do things—Really messed up things that involved stripping naked and crawling on his knees, even in rooms as busy and full as the cafeteria. Seeing as he was only just starting to get to know his dragon, Mason still wasn’t sure if this was because Cross was hiding a beast, or if it was just because it was Cross. Either way, it was too fucking embarrassing for words.

Thank god he was going home in less than a week. He would be safe in the mansion. Safe from asshole students giggling behind their hands about him looking for a bondmate. Safe from rapist, power hungry madmen wanting to force a bond to steal his power. Safe to jerk at the ridiculous level needed to finally find some peace.

He couldn’t wait to go home and never have to see Daniel fucking Cross again.