by Mathew Ortiz
“Oh, okay. I like that plan. Just repeat each line as I say it.” Oliver let him go and pushed himself into a sitting position, motioning Donovan to do the same. Taking Donovan’s hands, his mate took a deep breath. The air changed and undulated with magic. An odd scent filled his nostrils and made his fur stand on end. When Oliver spoke, he voice was different, powerful and commanding.
“In our minds we see,
Two souls joined in perfect harmony.
Forever are their lives now joyfully intertwined,
One heart, one soul, one mind for all time.
Bind them together, two souls made one,
Until the stars fade away, never sundered or undone.”
Donovan repeated each line and as he did, his skin heated, the nerves along his spine tingled, and he started to shift. He couldn’t help it. He shifted completely with the last line into his wereling form. Over seven feet tall and a good two-eighty in weight now, he had the attributes of a wolf with a man’s body. Covered in fur, his face elongated slightly, and his muzzle grew. The world went black and white as his eyes shifted. His hands became longer, and black claws replaced his fingernails. Canines dropped, ears lengthened, and his tail sprouted out bushy and full. The bed creaked under his increased his mass.
Oliver’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Donovan was sure he was going to run screaming, but Oliver didn’t, only kept his grip on Donovan’s paws tightly.
Seriously, did you think I’d do that? I am a witch you know, and I do know a thing or two about shifters.
Oliver’s teasing voice rattled in his skull and Donovan gasped a Scooby Doo-like “Ruh Ro.” Oliver laughed out loud in his mind, and Donovan joined him. The witch’s mind opened up for him like pictures in an album, only with emotions with each image. He saw the love and fierce protectiveness Oliver had for his siblings and aunts, the pride he had in his job at Restless Spirits, the heartbreak of Rory leaving him, and something else…
Chapter 8
“Whoa!” The growly voice exclaimed, and Oliver blushed deep. He hadn’t meant to share that much with Donovan, but the bonding prevented him from prevarication.
Oliver let go of Donovan’s paws and drew himself up to his knees. He was kneeling in front of a full-on wereling, fur, fangs, and claws.
“I should have warned you it was intense,” Oliver sighed. “You’ve turned my nicely laid-out life upside down. I don’t expect you to say you love me or any of that mushy stuff. You don’t even know me… not really.” Oliver wrapped his arms around Donovan’s shoulders and buried his face in the sweet smelling fur. Opening his heart up was a risk. He had done it with Rory, and it caused him so much pain.
“I won’t hurt you, Ollie.” The deep voice rumbled under him. Oliver didn’t have time to answer as he was whisked up into the air by powerful arms. Wrapping his legs around Donovan’s waist, he felt the man shift and held tight as Donovan became human again.
“Ollie?”
“I heard your family call you that. I like it. It’s…intimate,” Donovan huffed, and Oliver slid loose down his body. “Sexy, luscious, delicious witch.”
“Yep, I’m all that, Astro.”
“Okay, Lassie, Rover, Muttly, now Astro. Enough with the famous dog names.”
“Sorry, how about just Donovan?”
“Not Rump Shaker? Studmuffin? Cock Master?”
Oliver pinched his side, and Donovan yelped. “Those sound like porn names, so, uh no! Donovan is fine.”
“Plain Donovan is fine?”
Oliver reached up and tangled his fingers into Donovan’s dreads. “Plain you are not. That’s a given.” Kissing him again, Oliver sighed into his bondmate’s mouth. The sensation of having him with him outside and in was incredible. “You will be sleeping in my room tonight.”
“What about your family? When should we tell them?” Worry etched his man’s beautiful face.
“Give me a few days. I want to mate with you first. Then we’ll tell them.” Oliver replied and tapped Donovan on his nose. “Then you have to tell your brother.”
Donovan’s nose screwed up. “Crap.”
Oliver bounded to his feet and held out his hand for Donovan. Donovan got up and Oliver melded their bodies together. Kissing Donovan’s jaw, he enjoyed the soft stubble there.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m famished!” Oliver smacked the firm ass under his hand, and Donovan jumped. Laughing, he backed away from the growling man. “Ah, ah, ah. Food then fun.”
“Fine. I guess I should put some clothes on.” Donovan grinned impishly at him, and Oliver’s green jealousy monster reared its head. “Or I could go down naked.”
“No one is to see you naked but me!” No sooner did he say it, did he the heat race up his neck.
“Possessive much?”
“Yes! My shorts are ruined.” Holding up the shredded fabric, he wondered how he was going to get a new pair. “Yuck. My drawers are stiff.”
“Can I see them for a minute?” Donovan held out his hand. Shrugging he handed them to him and Donovan pressed the underwear to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Ah, hell…”
“You know you’re snorting my dirty underwear.”
“Yep. Ah, ambrosia!” Donovan inhaled again. “Can I keep these?”
Oliver thought he was crazy. “They’re gross. Why would you keep them?”
“A memento of our first time together.” Dressing quickly, Donovan shoved the underwear in his front pocket.
“I can see being bonded to a wolf shifter is going to be interesting.”
“Wait ‘til I sniff your butt in public for the first time.”
“What? Oh, you shit. You wouldn’t--you would!” Oliver razzed Donovan. “I need to slip down to my room to get new shorts. I can’t tell if the coast is clear.”
“Here, let me.” Gently shoving Oliver aside, Donovan cracked the door, stuck his nose out and sniffed several times. “Coast is clear. Your brother and Rush are fucking again. The servants are downstairs. Duncan is sleeping, I think.”
“Damn, you’re quicker than my Divination ability. My room’s at the end of the hall. Come on!” Oliver flung open the door, and the two scampered down the hall like naughty schoolboys.
***
Duncan strolled through the waning summer day. He had to get out of the house. It was suffocating him. As of late, he found his normally dreamless sleep filled with nightmares and dirty dreams. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in over week. Desperate, he implored Aunt Reeka for a sleeping potion. Both of them knew this was not ideal, but he had tried all the other venues. Warm milk, a hot bath in lavender, and even meditation hadn’t helped. His nights were either filled with violent images or with images of Zeke being taken away from him.
It had been months since he went to The River Styx. Duncan hadn’t been interested in sex, and his libido was non-existent. He only wanted Zeke, and the thought of another man touching him made his skin crawl.
Aw well, nothing to distract me from my studies. He was nearing the completion of his training as a Rememberer. Working with his instructor at the Library of the Dead, he was absorbing massive amounts of ancient, arcane knowledge. He had settled on specializing in understanding and working with apparitions or ghosts. Why he chose that field he didn’t quite understand. He barely passed his entrance exam into the field. His professors weren’t sure if he could handle the mercurial nature of spirits, but he persevered and was excelling in speaking to the dead and other spooky creatures.
Between his studies and working at the Maquintock Bay library full time, his days were packed. Quiet days like this were few and far between, and he counted that as a blessing. The distractions of daily life kept the emptiness and the growing madness at bay. Duncan found he feared the quiet days. They consumed him, chipped away at his resolve, and dragged him deeper into the abyss that once was filled with the light that was his bondmate, Zeke.
Summer was not his favorite season until as of late. He preferred the winter and fall so he cou
ld cover up and no one could see his tattoos. That had changed for Duncan. He didn’t care anymore who saw them, and his family was surprised when they discovered the extent of his ink. The hubbub died down a few days later, and he grew comfortable enough to wear shorts and a tank top, displaying his massive amount of tattooed skin.
His family hovered over him at all moments of the day, leaving him precious little time to himself. They were trying so hard to get him out of the house, to eat, to do anything fun, yet he walked around like a zombie as soon as he came home. Truthfully, he was lonely. So miserably alone.
William had Rush, and if Duncan wasn’t mistaken, Donovan Temple was interested in his baby brother. Figures…always the bridesmaid, never the bride.
Sometimes I feel like this isn’t me. This isn’t my life. That I’m a fraud. Without Zeke, life is like food without flavor.
A memory flashed across his mind, the joy of his bonding with Zeke. Nothing in his young life had prepared him for how much the man infused his soul with pure joy. Someone loved him for him, and not because he was a son or a sibling. When he focused on Zeke’s love for him, it elusively slipped through his fingers. He tried to recapture it, but it was like grabbing at smoke. He wasn’t happy, he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t anything, and nothing he did made a difference. He was spiraling into a depression so deep he might never see the light of day again.
He had come to the gardens to walk amongst all the blooming flowers and new life, hoping to get some emotional response. Finding none, he meandered back to the house and another night of emptiness.
***
Dinner was a pleasant affair, and Donovan had to admit it was nice being around a large family like the Blackthornes. It reminded him of his pack back home. William sat at the head of the table, his fiancé on the other end. Flanking William right and left were Duncan and Oliver. The elusive Jaime, the only sister and youngest sibling, sat next to Oliver. Aunt Reeka sat next to Duncan, and he was planted next to Jaime. While not dressed up, all of them were nicely attired, and the staff was attentive.
A salad course came first, and Donovan smacked his lips. Iceberg lettuce wedges covered in bacon and blue cheese started the meal. Crisp and cold, the lettuce was a vehicle, in his opinion, for the crunchy bacon and pungent blue cheese dressing. And Lord above, he loved bacon! Munching happily, he watched the interplay with the siblings, markedly missing his own brother.
“Is the renovation of the third floor nearly done?” Duncan asked as he sipped his wine. Donovan noted he hadn’t touched his food.
Rush chewed, swallowed, and answered him. “Yes, I figure another week and we’ll be done.”
“I can’t believe it. All the renovations are done now!” Jaime exclaimed.
“Not quite. Once Duncan moves into the third floor suites, Rush’ll start renovating our quarters.” William stated, giving his bondmate his attention. Rush smiled. “Duncan and Oliver switched. He was more interested in the top floor. I think it’s because Duncan knows he can never clean Oliver’s funk from the rooms.”
Jaime and Duncan laughed. Donovan grinned at his mate’s outrage.
“Hey!”
“Funk is funk, Ollie. As for our rooms, it’s nothing big. All I’m doing is taking the room, the old nursery, and the next bedroom and converting it into an office and TV room.” Rush took another bite of salad, crunching loudly.
“Oliver got the best bedroom, anyway. It was Grandmama’s suite. It’s huge.” Jaime groused, and Oliver snickered.
“How so?” In for a penny, Donovan was curious.
“Grandmama’s bedroom has its own sitting room. The only other bedroom that had one was the master,” William explained. “Well, it did until we changed it into a dressing room.”
“I had to do something. I had no room for my clothes!” Rush shook his fork at William. “Your shoe fetish is getting out of control. When I moved in, all I got was a drawer and two feet of closet space. I got tired of smooshing my clothes in any available shelf. All my stuff looked like wrinkled rags, so I turned our sitting room into a walk-in dressing room, complete with floor–to-ceiling shoe storage for Imelda Marcose here. Seriously, blondie. Twenty pair of Converse?”
“I like options,” William sniffed and ignored Rush.
“I prefer you naked,” Rush offered, and William’s face flushed red.
“Rush!” William hissed at his bondmate. Rush didn’t appear to be fazed at all.
“Once again, TMI.” Jaime rolled her eyes, and Duncan smirked next to her. “We all get it. You two are in love and can’t keep your hands off each other. All we ask, and I think I speak for everyone in the family, is that you keep it in your bedroom or at least not in the public areas. I’m never using the desk in the library again!”
Donovan observed both Rush and William redden at that.
“Oh, ew! I was using that desk yesterday!” Oliver balked, looking at his brother.
“Well, little brother, the blotter really works.” Unrepentant, William shrugged.
“If we can end this blow-by-blow, so to speak, of my brother’s sex life, did you hear what happened to Grace?” Setting his wine glass down, Duncan addressed the family.
“No,” William said and all eyes were now on Duncan.
“Her car was vandalized by the Milbury boys.” The tap of his finger on the table emphasized Duncan’s point.
“What? Did she call the sheriff?” Oliver asked, and his siblings and aunt gave him an odd look. “Oh…sorry.” He lowered his eyes, and Donovan scented his embarrassment.
“I don’t mean to pry, but what am I missing here?” His concern for his mate overruled his manners.
Reeka Oswald sighed wearily. “The sheriff is a Van Patton. His ancestors were in the crowd that executed the Oswald boys over three hundred years ago.”
“The Harringtons, Litchfields, and Whitmores were directly responsible for the young boys’ deaths. They led the town council and ordered the boys be arrested. Nicholas Van Patton and his deputy Ernest Milbury, along with some local village scum, were the ones who arrested the boys. When Oliver Oswald cursed the town with his dying breath, the Van Pattons and Milburys fell under the spell. Line of sight,” Reeka explained to Donovan, and the other sat tense and silent, very different from the jovial tone only moments before.
“Line of sight?”
“For witches, especially young ones, their spells only work best when they see their victims. Especially fast spells. All the people the young Oliver saw were affected by his spell. While not as powerful as William Oswalds’ curse on the Harringtons, a curse is a curse. Over the generations, all of those families experienced suffering and failings. The current day descendants still blame us for their woes and rightfully so. Most of the families have very little to do with us.” Ending her story, she took a long drink of her wine, and a low rustling ran through the family.
“I lost friends when they found out I was dating William,” Rush piped up and his hand reached out for Williams. “Three of my childhood friends, Bart, Ronald, and Abraham turned their backs on me. I had known those guys all my life. Even me being gay didn’t faze them. However, they made it known in short order I was not their friend if I consorted with that devil worshiper, William Blackthorne. I wasn’t about to turn my back on William. He’s the one and only for me. Instead I lost three so-called friends. It hurt, and I admit that freely, but what I gained was a million times more important, more special…”
“I hate that they did that to you,” William said, his voice low and rough.
Rush lifted William’s hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. “You are my day and my night. My breath and my being. Why would I choose them over you? I even defied my father for you. I love you, Blondie.” He ducked his head and looking at William’s lowered gaze. “Me and you… forever.”
“Damn it, Harrington,” William sniffled. “The things you say sometimes.”
Rush chuckled and gave William a quick, gentle kiss.
Donovan blinked. �
�Your father opposed your mating?”
Rush’s face grew hard, and Donovan could see barely contained rage.
“Yes. Still does. He blames the Oswalds for all the family’s problems. Yet he still won’t admit we had it coming. I mean, fuck! Our ancestors hung three young boys. Children! I’m descended from monsters—from murderers.”
“That’s the past, Rush. Dwelling on it is why there is still so much bad blood between the families,” Jaime added. Duncan and William nodded.
“I think I’ll go see Sheriff Van Patton tomorrow.” The tone of Reeka Oswald’s voice sent a shiver down Donovan’s spine.
“I hate this town sometimes,” Oliver muttered, and Donovan sensed anger via their new bond. Unsure, he projected comfort to Oliver and was tickled pink when the young man blinked in surprise and gave him a thankful look.
“On to more happy topics. Jaime, have you settled into your apartment yet and what’re taking your first semester at Harvard?” Diverting the topic, Rush’s simple words changed the whole tone of the room, and laughter rang out. So why was his mate still twisting his tail?
***
Donovan closed the door to his room, entering the half shadows of early night. The hallway was a mix of long stretches of darkness, broken by slashes of silvery light filtering in from the large crescent moon. His body tingled because his shifting powers increased as the moon moved to fullness. Concentrating, he shifted his eyes to their lupine form, and the world when black and white with murky edges. With preternatural ease, he stalked through the corridor and down to the main house. Not a sound came from his steps, even on the old creaking wood floor. His lupine grace made his movement liquid, his body supple in ways a normal human body never could be. Stopping at the kitchen, he sniffed the air. No one had been in here in at least two hours, and no one was nearby. The coast appeared clear, and he crept along, keeping low. Alighting on the landing of the stairs, he took them quickly and silently.
The mezzanine was deserted, and he paused and scented the air again. William and Rush were sleeping…for a change. Duncan also slept. He made his way down the long hall to Oliver’s room. Even in his horny lupine state, Donovan had to admire the grandeur of the home. The scents tickling his nose spoke of antiquity and power. It also spoke of family, of love and laughter, of sadness and pain. Donovan reached Oliver’s door and tested the handle. The tumbled clicking was like a gunshot in the still of the night. The door creaked as he opened it, and he slipped in, closing it behind him.