THE NEWS OF THE PREGNANCY HAD THOREN AND HIS
MATES SIMULTANEOUSLY ECSTATIC AND WORRIED.
Ecstatic for obvious reasons. A successful ritual meant they were now
expecting fathers—and from that perspective, they were on cloud nine.
Worried—also for obvious reasons.
Even though Salem was taking the antidote, his symptoms abated for a
short while after each dose. At the rate they was using it, Thoren would
have to return to the Wilds sooner than he expected. He didn't mind, but his
mate's condition worried him. If they ran out of the medicine, Salem would
suffer more.
Seeing his pregnant mate in such a vulnerable, sickly position made
Thoren ache with sympathy. His wolf wanted to curl up around Salem and
protect him whilst his human half wished he could shoulder all of his mate's
pain. What would happen if they ran out and couldn't get more? The
possibility made Thoren's stomach churn.
"How are we almost out of the antidote already? It's only been three
weeks!" he gritted out.
Cecil sat across from him on a small sofa in the parlor of Salem's large
suite. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Thoren.
"I'm sorry. His symptoms are way worse than we thought they'd be.
I've been giving him extra because I'm afraid he'll..." the magi trailed off,
biting his lip.
Thoren recognized the sadness in his mate's eyes and rumbled with
tension. He wanted to ease Cecil's worries, but what could he do? If Thorn
knew another way to help Salem, he would have explored it by now. In
times where words couldn't absolve the emotional weight of their
circumstances, Thoren turned to actions.
"Don't be sorry." Thoren pulled Cecil close to his chest and wrapped his
arms around him. "I shouldn't have raised my voice. I'm just worried. We
will run out of the antidote soon and the only way we can get it is through
that shop..."
"Then we'll just have to get more," Ulrich told him.
"Easier said than done," Cecil sighed. "Portal magic takes a lot out of
me and I'm not sure I can form another this quickly."
Thoren peered down at his mate and scrunched his face. "Wait, what?"
Cecil frowned up at him. "It's true. I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," Thoren commanded. He planted a kiss atop the
magi's nose. "We'll figure something out. You can't be the only person in
Bloodborne who can summon a portal."
"Venessa had items in her shop that could do it," Ulrich reminded them.
"Maybe a merchant somewhere in the kingdom sells them?"
"I'll figure out how to make them," Cecil decided suddenly. His
announcement drew Ulrich and Thoren's undivided attention.
"You will?" they asked in unison.
"I can try. Anything is better than doing nothing, right?" Cecil sighed. "I
also want to look into the ingredients for the medicine. If I can narrow it
down and find suitable replacements in Bloodborne, we can make our own.
But I'll need some time. You two should look into other options—and if no
one sells them here, figure out another way to travel just in case. I won't
have much magic to spare if I'm making potions."
Ulrich nodded and gave Cecil and Thoren a thumbs up. "I'll ask
Valencia about it. And Cecil?"
"What is it, love?"
"You're the best."
THOREN WAS ON A MISSION. The werewolf worried about Salem,
whose symptoms grew worse by the day—but Cecil had also become a
person of concern. The Magi had holed himself up in the library for hours
on end, researching ways to help curb Salem's symptoms and prepare for
what was to come.
He knocked on the door to the study, holding a tray of snacks prepared
by Valencia. "Can I come in?"
"Go ahead!" Cecil called from behind the door.
Thoren entered the room and deposited the tray on the table in front of
Cecil. "You've been cooped up in here for days. Shouldn't you take a
break?"
Cecil shook his head and sat the book he was reading down. "No can
do," he answered with a sigh.
Thoren looked around the table and examined the disarray of books
stacked thicker than his arms and pads of papers scribbled head to toe with
notes. It surprised Thoren that the table could hold as many books as Cecil
had gathered. Beyond it, stacks of books hogged the space around it.
His disheveled mate sighed. Cecil's blond hair stuck up with the telltale
signs of bed-head, and bags hung beneath his bloodshot eyes.
It was obvious his magi was overextending himself and it pained
Thoren to watch. His wolf sensed the tension brewing beneath the surface
and wanted to stamp it out before something bad happened.
He stood still, watching his mate for a moment as his mind worked to
process what he was seeing. Who else would save Cecil from himself?
Valencia was busy caring for Salem, who was bedridden and sick from the
pregnancy. Ulrich was traversing Bloodborne looking for a shop they
weren't sure still existed. Thoren was the only mate available for the job. It
was his turn to step up.
Thoren took a seat across from him. "I know you're worried about
Salem, but why are you pushing yourself so hard? You're going to make
yourself sick."
Cecil peered up at him from the tower of books and sighed. "I know, but
I signed up for this mission. I have to do this."
"Okay, fair enough," Thoren shrugged. "I can tell you won't be stopping
any time soon, so humor me."
Cecil quirked an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm
listening."
"Let's go for a walk. I'm sure you could use some fresh air."
"A walk?" Cecil thought about it for a moment.
Thoren sensed his mate would reject his proposal, so he added quickly,
"we don't have to go for long. Besides, all of this will be here waiting for
you when we get back. What's the harm in a short break? No one wants to
see you work yourself into the ground, Cecil."
"Okay, okay. Fine. You've convinced me."
"Excellent." Thoren grinned and scooped up the tray. If they were going
out to the garden, the werewolf thought there was no harm in bringing the
snacks, too.
Outside, he and Cecil made their way to the garden. The backyard was
more like an oasis to Thoren, accentuated with luxurious details: a beautiful
pond in the center sprawling with flowering lily pads; a quaint wooden
bridge that led to a gazebo; flower beds that housed an array of perennials;
and magical lights that illuminated it all, hovering above their heads. Cecil
had been responsible for the latter, having set them up himself.
They walked down the path until they reached the bridge. Up close,
Thoren saw tendrils growing along the wooden railings. He held the tray
with one hand and pointed at the gazebo with the other. "Let's eat there," he
suggested.
The two of them crossed and took shelter under the canopy. Hanging in
the center of the gazebo was a swing. He sat down with Cecil and gazed out
at the scenery. Salem's garden never failed to take his breath away.
Beside him, Thoren's mate positioned the tray on his lap. Cecil stacked
cheese onto a cracker and offered it to him. Thoren opened his mouth and
Cecil fed it to him. For a while, they sat there like that—feeding each other
and enjoying the fresh air.
"Do you think Salem will get better?" Cecil asked, his eyes focused
elsewhere.
"I know he will." Thoren wrapped an arm around Cecil and gave his hip
a gentle squeeze.
"How can you be so sure? And so calm?"
"Well, for starters, he will not stay that way forever." Thoren ate another
cracker with cheese. "He's also one of the strongest people I know. Never
underestimate a vampire."
"How can I argue with that?" Cecil laughed. It was music to the
werewolf's ears.
Thoren grinned. "You don't!"
They finished the tray of snacks and Cecil set it aside. He leaned against
Thoren and closed his eyes. After a long moment of silence, the magi
looked up at him and said, "thank you for this."
"Thank you for keeping me company," Thoren hummed. He kissed the
top of Cecil's head and pulled his mate close.
They sat a while longer until the moon was higher in the sky. The scene
before them was too spectacular to ignore, and Thoren wanted nothing more
than to stop time.
The lights Cecil made hovered midair, sparkling like jewels. Their
reflections danced across the surface of the pond.
"It's beautiful—your lights," the werewolf murmured. He turned to look
at Cecil and was awestruck by how the magi's eyes sparkled—reflecting the
beauty in front of them. "On second thought, you're beautiful..."
Thoren tilted Cecil's face toward him and kissed him. His mate's lips
were soft, supple—Thoren wanted to suck on them all night long. Thanks to
his excellent hearing, he could hear Cecil's heart beating frantically in his
chest.
Thoren inhaled the scent of his mate; a sweet, sensual, honey-like aroma
that intoxicated the werewolf. His wolf was ready to pounce the all-tootempting magi, but Thoren showed restraint. He pulled back by an inch and
rested his forehead against Cecil's. They gazed into each other's eyes, full
of longing.
His wolf's ears picked up the soft pitter-patter of raindrops. Below the
gazebo, the pond rippled with life as the droplets came into contact with its
surface. He took in all the sounds, his senses tingling. This was what feeling
alive was all about. Thoren had a purpose now, something beyond himself.
Sharing the same air with a mate as lovely as Cecil was a blessing. Some
kind of once in a lifetime miracle—a dream come true.
"I can't believe we will be fathers," Cecil whispered. "Are we sure this
isn't some elaborate dream we're not waking up from?"
Thoren smiled wolfishly as he reached around Cecil and pinched his
ass. His mate yelped and Thoren kissed him again. "Nope," he breathed.
"Not dreaming."
"Good," Cecil murmured, wrapping his arms around Thoren's neck. "I
never want to go to sleep again."
The werewolf chuckled and filled his hands with Cecil's perky, round
cheeks. He hoisted his mate onto his lap and nuzzled his face into the
magi's neck. If Thoren was dreaming, he never wanted to wake up again.
But since he knew he wasn't, he focused on making the most of his waking
experiences. Starting with Cecil.
He nibbled on his mate's exposed neck, eliciting a low, sensual groan
from the magi's parted, wet lips. Thoren was overcome by primal urges.
Now, his wolf was in the driving seat.
He shifted to part his legs just enough, so that Cecil straddled him and
unbuttoned his pants. He squeezed Cecil's ass hard, then lifted him up with
one hand and pulled his pants and boxers down in one fell swoop with the
other. Satisfied, he repositioned the magi on his lap and freed his own
member from the confines of his underwear.
Thoren reached into his pocket and retrieved a condom and a small
bottle of lubricant. Cecil stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You planned
for this, didn't you?" his mate accused in a playful tone.
"Maybe." Thoren tore the packet and wrapped his cock, then unscrewed
the cap and coated a few of his fingers with the viscous mixture. He reached
around and spread Cecil's cheeks with his other hand, while his lubricated
fingers circled and teased his rim. The magi shuddered under his touch,
which only made the werewolf harder. He gradually worked Cecil up to two
fingers, pumping them in and out as his mate's hole adjusted to him.
The rain muffled Cecil's naughty noises as it picked up, pattering
against the gazebo's roof. The view of the house beyond the garden became
obscured by sheet after sheet of the sudden downpour. To the werewolf, it
was all he could hear. For a few minutes, Thoren teased out more sounds
from Cecil, eager to hear the magi's pleasure. He stretched Cecil with two
fingers at once and pumped rhythmically until he felt his muscles relax.
Thoren pulled his fingers out and lined the tip of us cock up with Cecil's
hole. He guided Cecil as he lowered himself onto Thoren's hard member.
Once his tip penetrated him, Thoren saw stars. He leaned his head against
the magi's shoulder and groaned. "Fuck, you feel good."
They ambled. Cecil pushed out against Thoren, whose hands were
occupied with his mate's cheeks. He squeezed them as he held his mate up,
gently and slowly bouncing him until his cock bottomed out. The pressure
that encapsulated his member was unbelievable. Thoren had always enjoyed
the wet dreams he shared with his three mates, but the real deal was an
entirely different beast. The intensity alone was enough to blow his mind.
"Talk to me," Thoren implored as he suckled on one of Cecil's earlobes.
He worked his arms as he lifted his mate and bounced him more, his
member hitting rock bottom over and over.
"Shut up and fuck me," Cecil moaned and threw his head back. His
surrender was beautiful—sexy even—and it made Thoren want him even
more.
"Your wish is my command." Thoren gave Cecil's ass another squeeze
before standing. He maneuvered over to one of the gazebo's pillars and
pushed Cecil's back up against it. Standing, Thoren took control of their
movements and thrust into him with ease. Skin slapped against skin as their
bodies became one. His wolf wanted to howl, to celebrate—to claim what
was his.
Thoren's mate.
He took Cecil's mouth with his with a deep, passionate kiss. As their
tongues tangled together, Thoren paced himself in time with Cecil's breaths.
He kissed down Cecil's neck and lost himself as pleasurable sensations
rippled through his body. Cecil's insides squeezed him tight as the rain
continued to pour around them. Thoren's ears had long acclimated to his
mate's voice, however, and soon, all he could hear were Cecil's moans.
Thoren picked up his pace. He plowed into Cecil until sweat beaded on
his skin. It wasn't long before the werewolf was at his limit. With one final
thrust, Thoren and Cecil cried out as powerful orgasms rocked them to their
very core. Thoren's cock pulsed with his release, thick and throbbing. Cecil
panted against him, his own member sticky. They waited several long
minutes for the pulsing in Thoren's beastly cock to subside and revert to a
more normal size.
After they caught their breath, Thoren pulled out and carried Cecil back
to the swing. He lowered him onto it, but before Cecil could so much as
move an inch, Thoren got down on his knees and took his bobbing, messy
member into his mouth. Cecil gasped, his head rolling to the side. He
threaded his fingers through Thoren's hair as the werewolf used his tongue
to clean the magi's head and shaft. Satisfied, Thoren pulled away and
looked up at his Cecil, who had a cat-like grin on his face.
"That was incredible," Cecil breathed.
Thoren quirked an eyebrow, smirking, and said, "encore?"
"Hah! Maybe later. My legs are shaking like crazy."
"Maybe I overdid it." Thoren smirked. "But wouldn't you say taking a
break was worth it?"
His mate's eyes twinkled. "Maybe."
Cecil laughed, so Thoren did, too. They rested on the swing until the
rain subsided, then headed back toward the house. Cecil leaned against
Thoren for support, his legs wobbly. "Are you sure you don't want me to
carry you?" Thoren asked.
"I'm okay," Cecil panted.
"No, you're not," Thoren retorted, peering down at him. Cecil's cheeks
were flushed and his breath came in short rasps. Halfway to the back door,
the magi's knees gave out from under him. Thoren moved swiftly to keep
him from falling, but couldn't mask the alarm in his voice. "Cecil?!"
"I feel sick," Cecil groaned.
"Sick? Sick how?"
"It's happening."
"What's happening?"
Cecil didn't answer. Thoren watched, horrified, as his eyes rolled into
the back of his head and the strength drained from his body like sand.
The last thing Thoren heard was the sound of his own scream.