by J B Black
“Even exhausted, you reach out for me,” his mate whispered, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes, but Castor merely groaned, rolling to bury his face in the other’s muscular abs. “You shouldn’t be here. You need to rest.”
Castor huffed. “I am resting.”
“You are communicating with me. That isn’t resting,” his mate retorted.
Leaning back, the warlock glared up at his fated love. Only quicksilver eyes were clear. Those scarred lips and the pale angles of his face blurred as they were want to do when he could not force his way to perceive even if that perception only lasted for mere seconds and never followed him from his dreams.
“If you want me to rest, be silent,” Castor commanded, and as those eyes narrowed, he held tighter to his mate. “I find your touch calming. Pet my head and lay beside me. That shouldn’t be too much to ask of the one on the other end of my red string.”
His mate hummed softly, offering no response. The fingers which slid through his hair and the arms which held him brought him comfort. They opened an aching cavern of want within his chest, and as tears lined his lashes, he clenched his eyes shut, determined to hold fast for as long as he could.
“I felt we were drawing closer,” Castor confessed when he could no longer bear his fated love’s gentle touches. “I only wanted to find you, but - but all that blood.”
Though the dark-haired man sighed, he did not stop his caresses. “Battlefields are known for having blood.”
“I’ve seen blood before, and I’ve seen battlefields. I’ve cured curses in war-torn countries before, but that was different. It was a massacre. Whatever they had been sent to fight...the king enslaved them as children and forced them to fight. Whatever killed them...it just doesn’t seem fair,” the warlock confessed, crying into the tunic which adorned the other man’s body.
“Life and death are seldom fair.” The words - though true - offered no comfort. Arms lifted Castor, shifting them to allow his fated mate to hold him close. Burying his face in the other’s neck, the warlock clung desperately. “I am glad he dismissed you.”
Castor sobbed, “Because I couldn’t hack it?”
“Whatever has his mate would’ve killed you,” the other man calmly retorted. “Myrddin lives because the god he was sent to kill recognized the rebellion in his heart and respected the life in his belly.”
That gave the warlock pause. Pulling back, he met those quicksilver eyes with a suspicious gaze. “How would you know?”
“In your terror, your mind reached for me. I saw what you saw, and...I saw what I would have if I stood there beside you. The king sent them against an old god. A powerful one who had no mercy in his heart for any save children. I saw the prince’s string remained bright and red around his little finger, so I know the living soul is Myrddin,” his fated mate softly explained, offering more information than he ever had before. “Nothing would have kept Myrddin alive if he wasn’t pregnant.”
Wriggling closer, Castor tightly embraced the dark-haired man as his mind reeled with the new information. His mate could see through his eyes, and he was no ordinary cursed being. His age suggested power, but Castor had believed the curse kept him in status - keeping age from laying its hand upon him. If that were not the case, then Castor could only wonder at what his mate was. Something capable of seeing the strings of fate with ease, and someone who recognized the territory of a particular god.
Part of Castor wished to travel back to that field. Whoever the god was, he might recognize the warlock’s mate, but the distrust the other man showed towards the deity suggested nothing friendly remained between them. Not for the first time, he yearned to ask about the battles which used to haunt his nightmares. Perhaps the god had been on the other side at some point. Maybe the merciless deity cursed Castor’s mate himself.
For all his recklessness, the warlock recognized a losing battle. He would not survive against a god, and if his mate made an enemy of the deity, he would be ten times the fool he believed the prince for riding back to test his fate.
Someday, he would stand before his mate, and when the curse broke or in the process of its breaking, the warlock would ask and learn all that fell between the cracks of his dreams. For now, he held tight to his beloved and dreamed of a sweet future.
Chapter Five
With nothing but a desire to get as far from Aelion as possible and no curse to travel to, Castor headed to the coast. He found a small village on white cliffs at the end of a large mountain range. The locals had carved steps into the cliffs down to the beach below, but the blond warlock took to sitting upon the edge of the cliff with his legs dangling over. Finally having a name made him far more optimistic than he had been in a long time.
“Nasi,” he whispered, letting the wind carry the name. “Have you met my mate? Yes, he’s gorgeous, isn’t he? His name is Nasi,” Castor joked as he watched the sunset.
In the midst of summer, children played along the beach, running back and forth on large rock outcroppings to test their lines and pull in small fishes. Some caught crabs while others simply played in the waves. Mothers called from their doorsteps, and children came running with their catches and tools in hand.
Castor smiled, imaging a cottage by the coast. “Yes, my husband, Nasi, and our children. Aren’t they beautiful?”
Leaning back, he folded his hands behind his head and watched the sky darken overhead as the sun sunk below the horizon. While warlocks could sire and conceive if they were with their fated mate, most other men could not carry. Nasi never said what he was exactly. Only the most powerful wizards could carry. Druids and sorcerers couldn’t. Back home, Castor would sometimes go into the woods with his father, and he met the forest god his father served. Most male couples who desired to have children petitioned the forest god and his bride for a blessing of fertility. Besides warlocks, the only people who were consistently capable of both were the fae, but Nasi’s ears weren’t pointed. His mother told him some dragons could.
The warlock snorted and chuckled. Dragons mated dragons. There was no way Nasi was a dragon. “Dragon - ha…”
“Warlock?”
Sitting straight up, Castor fumbled, turning to stare up at the red haired man at his side. Braids decorated his head. Gold wove into them, and though the man towered over Castor’s sitting form, he didn’t seem nearly as tall as Nasi did in their shared dreams. However, the broad shoulders and muscular thighs drew Nasi’s attention. His red tunic had a scale-like pattern, and the way he flexed his back as if he shifted something beneath his skin left the warlock sputtered.
“Do you - did you just come because I said dragon?” Castor asked, half-convinced he was hallucinating. He had never met a dragon before, but everything inside of him said the man was one.
The red-haired man snorted. “Are you the Warlock Castor?”
“Who’s asking?” the warlock retorted.
Bright eyes narrowed. “Don’t toy with me, warlock. I hear you’re the best at curses.”
Castor stood, brushing off his trousers. “I am. You don’t seem cursed…”
“It isn’t me. A friend of mine has been cursed,” the red-haired man explained.
“And - just for my own sanity - you are, in fact, a dragon?” Castor questioned, and when the man nodded, the gold in his hair sparkled in the light of the setting sun.
Surely this was madness. Clinging to the new information and the joy of finally having a name straight from his fated mate’s lips left him going back through his list of possible types of people in hopes of narrowing the curse. He had done it before, and dragons never showed up when he laughed at the possibility, but suddenly, the red dragon showing up seemed like a slap in the face. Was this a sign from fate? Was his mate a dragon?
“So what will it cost?” the dragon urged. “I can transform and take us back to my den. He’s stressed enough as is. I don’t like leaving Theron alone.”
Running a hand through his hair, Castor glanced back at the inn where he had int
ended to stay the evening. “Let me grab my things. I need to see the curse before I give you a price.”
“Good.”
As they headed toward the inn, Castor debated how he would approach his mate if Nasi ended up being a dragon. It was only after when the red-haired man transformed into a large red dragon did the warlock realize he hadn’t gotten a name.
When he asked, the dragon tilted his large head and said, “Radek. Now hold still.”
If Castor ever imagined flying through the air with a dragon, he would have believed himself to be sitting astride the creature’s back. Radek held him in his hand. His claws wrapped around the warlock’s body, and those mighty wings flapped, sending wild wind across the cliff. They took to the sky, and the blond warlock’s heart raced.
Heading into the mountain, Radek strained forward. His bright eyes focused ahead, and though Castor’s eyes watered at the wind rushing past his face, the warlock forced himself to study the mountains below and ahead. Magic - especially curses - had a particular shimmer. Even when Radek landed on the edge of a large cavern on the side of the taller peaks, Castor couldn’t see a single sign of a curse.
“Where’s this friend of yours?” the warlock asked, rubbing his waist as the dragon shifted back into his humanoid form.
Throwing open the large door which blocked the entrance of the cavern, the red-haired man rushed inside, calling, “Theron! Theron! I found the warlock!”
Castor followed. Inside, the dragon had decorated the cavern very similarly to a human home; however, everything was far larger. The deeper they went into the cave, the less familiar things became, and the expanse of gold and jewels in a slightly lower chamber left the warlock gaping at the sheer wealth on display before him. His admiration for the wealth of the red dragon didn’t last long. A white blur swooped low, hocking loudly with an endless rage.
“Theron! Be nice,” the dragon scolded, and the swan settled with as fierce a glare at the dragon as a bird could manage. “Warlock Castor - please fix this idiot.”
The magic wound around the man turned swan had been lazily done; however, whoever cast the spell was extremely powerful. Reversing it would be easy, but something about the spell left him uneasy.
“Whoever cursed you is tracking you too,” Castor informed the swan.
Hissing, the bird looked to the red dragon, who frowned. “From what I’ve managed to figure out, the curse occurred during a hunt in the Black Forest.”
Castor’s shoulders sagged. “Silvius.”
Immediately, the swan raged once more. He nipped at Radek, hissing and flapping his wings as if cursing the forest god’s name.
“Who is Silvius?” Radek asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
“He’s the patron deity of that forest. I’ve known him to be loose with curses, but they normally only last until whoever he cursed leaves his forest. If he placed the curse to last and added a tracker to it, there’s something more at hand here,” the warlock informed the red dragon. “Did you kill anything within the forest?”
The swan’s eyes narrowed. Radek huffed. “He’s a hunter. Of course, he killed something, but he’s never had a problem with forest gods before. I’ve hunted there too!”
In the gold coins something moved, and Radek glanced over his shoulder with a huff as the swan jumped, seeming to complain to whatever slept in the gold until the red dragon dragged him back.
“Is someone else here?” Castor asked.
Blushing as bright red as a tomato, Radek scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve only recently become of age, and I had planned on traveling to claim a territory, but then Theron showed up…”
“And this is your parents’ home?” the warlock finished. Setting his hands on his hips, he frowned down at the cursed man. “Three dragons couldn’t fix this?”
Radek shifted his weight from one foot to another. “They refused.”
“Ah - that’s never a good sign.” Looking over at the gold, the warlock called, “I apologize for coming into your home unaware. Would you mind telling me why you refused?”
A low rumble came from the coins followed by what sounded almost like a laugh from deeper in the cavern. Radek crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s a negative.”
“I can undo the curse, but I suspect we’ll have a visitor shortly, so be prepared to give me more details as quickly as possible, Theron,” the warlock said, and shearing the bindings of the transformation, he cast aside the tracking as best he could until his eyes caught on a glimmer of red. “Oh...oh fuck.”
But his horror fell on deaf ears as the transformation fell away, revealing a young man of like height to Castor. His shaved head suggested plain brown hair, but his eyes were as fierce and golden as they had been in his bird form. He wore a cloak, carrying a bow and quiver upon his back. His brows furrowed in violent fury.
“I’m going to kill that bastard,” Theron proclaimed. “My village hunted in that forest for centuries without problem, and I hadn’t even fucking killed a single creature when he cursed me!”
“Why would he curse you if you did nothing?” Radek asked at first, but as his friend ranted more and more about the different ways he would slaughter the god, the dragon quickly changed his tune. “That won’t - Theron, please! You need to calm down! There’s no way you can kill a god!”
Terrified that his instincts would soon prove true, Castor grabbed the hunter’s hand, and the man turned his rage on him, preparing to yell when his eyes seemed to catch upon the warlock’s pale face. “Take this,” Castor said, placing a ring upon the man’s finger. “No one will be able to transform you again, and I have a friend named Fannar who I think -”
“There you are.”
All three looked to the door. A tall, lithe man with long white hair and violet eyes stood in the entrance of the cavern. White robes with silver embroidery decorated his tall frame, and glimmering stones hung about the crown of his head. Silvius seemed carved from marble. His sharp cheekbones and his half-lidded bedroom eyes balanced between salacious and rich boy boredom.
Nasi might have feared the forest god who existed near that battlefield in Aelion, but the forest god before them now terrified Castor. Even knowing the man could not curse him or do him ill meant nothing. This man was the son of Castor’s father’s boss. Growing up, Silvius tormented him on the rare occasions he went to court, spoiled as he had been by his mother. Seeing him as a full-fledged god with his own territory horrified the blond warlock.
But Silvius failed to acknowledge anyone else. His eyes focused solely on Theron. “You shouldn’t have flown away like that.”
“Bastard,” the hunter hissed, drawing his sword. “I’ll fucking cut your ugly head from your skinny body!”
Chuckling softly, Silvius smiled - seemingly not realizing how serious the hunter was or perhaps rightfully not afraid as his power as a god set him far above the human before him. Though Castor could prevent some of his magic - and being outside of the forest did weaken Silvius, a god was a god, and if Radek’s parents desired to not interfere, then it meant only a single dragon and a warlock stood between the forest god and what he wanted.
“Darling, you may kill me again and again. Such little deaths, I’ll adore them all,” Silvius drawled, and Radek reared back, covering his face.
“What the hell? He smells aroused?” the dragon informed them, and violet eyes honed in on the red-haired man, but after a quick glare, his attention slid back to Theron.
A good thing, too. The hunter had lunged, and god or not, the sword would’ve hurt when it connected with his neck. As he dodged Theron’s attacks, Silvius sighed. “I’m sorry, darling. I was busy. I didn’t want you to get away.”
Theron said nothing. He raged, putting everything he had into each attack. Soon, he would tire himself, and if too far from Castor, the warlock could not protect him from being whisked away. With a quick spell, the warlock pulled Theron behind him.
“Don’t interfere!” Theron growled, but Castor held
him back.
“You can’t defeat him.”
Silvius smiled. “Listen to the little warlock, darling. I’m sorry I made you wait. It was just a little curse. I thought you’d come after me to undo it.” His eyes narrowed as he glared at Radek. “I had no idea you knew a dragon.”
“If you know, then you should leave. I’m not letting you mess with my friend,” Radek proclaimed.
“He’s my bride,” the forest god announced, and dread filled Castor’s chest.
Theron’s brows furrowed. “Bride? Are you insane? I’m a man.”
“He means fated mate,” the warlock informed the enraged hunter.
Radek scoffed. “Fated mates don’t hurt each other!”
“If anything, he hurt me! A bride should recognize his husband,” Silvius announced. Reaching toward the hunter, the forest god cooed, “But I forgive you, darling. Let’s go home. Now that we’ve met, your body will begin to change. No one can relieve your want but me.”
Theron sheathed his sword, and for a beat, it seemed he might go with the forest god; instead, he looked to Castor. “Is there a way to undo this?”
“What?” Silvius and Radek burst at once.
“It’s just another type of curse, isn’t it? I’m human. I don’t have a fated mate, so even if I am a fated mate, I should be able to refuse. Otherwise, it is a curse,” Theron explained, and while the hunter seemed calm, the anger in his eyes told the truth - his fury had only gone cold.
“I know a warlock, Fannar, who managed it.” Castor kept his eyes on Silvius’s face even as he spoke to Theron. Terror joked him as those violet eyes narrowed, and the placid calmness turned into barely contained murderous rage. “But my father worked for a forest god. The bride has the right to refuse.”
Silvius huffed, crossing his arms. “Why wouldn’t you want to be my bride? With me, you’ll be immortal. A match to a god. I’d pleasure you every night. You’d be worshipped.”
“Refusing isn’t final enough,” Theron announced. “I refuse, and I will cut anything which binds us out of me.”
