"You will regret this, Lucien." His mother's words haunted him, constantly replaying in his mind as he felt tendrils of her magic try to touch him. To hurt him. Possibly maim him.

He was very grateful for the Vales' warded emporium because he knew she would not have let him go unpunished for that. Castor's own fiery magic had prevented her wicked claws from scraping down his back, but not even that had eased the growing fear in his chest.

The reason Lucien never disobeyed and did his damndest to please his parents was because he knew what would happen if he didn't. It didn't matter how he was an adult now. They still viewed him as that terrified little child who just wanted to make his mother and father proud. But Lucien had learned the hard way how it would never matter what he did.

They would never be proud of anything he did.

Lucien made a choice to do what he wanted with his life, and Gods, it had felt so liberating to tell her no. She had made it clear as day that she was disappointed with him, telling him to come collect his belongings later in the evening, but Lucien knew it wouldn't be that easy. He just wasn't sure what she was scheming, and that terrified him the most.

It wasn't until Castor's heated hands closed over both his did he realize just how badly they were shaking. Lucien's own magic had tangled with fiery wisps of Castor's, creating majestic green-hued flames that were ready to devour anything that tore them apart.

Although his mother had left the shop, Lucien's heartbeat roared in his ears and struggled to catch his ragged breaths. He'd never stood up against her like that. There was no telling how she would retaliate, but he couldn't go back with her. He couldn't marry a woman he didn't love and bear children with her for his horrible, abusive family.

"Lucien, come here. We need to talk." Those words had Lucien's stomach doing somersaults as Castor took his hand and guided him around display racks of robes and shelves of potions until they were outside.

Fresh fall air kissed Lucien's face as he savored the sweet petrichor left from last night's thunderstorm. He let Castor take him around the side of the shop and down into the narrow alleyway, until he finally stopped as Lucien pressed his back tightly against the brick wall.

"I'm sorry. I just... I panicked, okay?" Lucien fiddled with the ring he'd weaved around his finger, sighing. "I couldn't marry that woman and act like everything was as dandy as daffodils."

"Is this supposed to be a sham engagement?" Castor leaned closer and raised his arm, bracing it against the brick wall behind Lucien. Their faces were mere inches apart as the hard lines of Castor's jaw softened in the faint light. "I don't mind if it is, but I need to know what to expect."

"She's controlled me for so goddamn long, and I'm sick of it." Lucien's lips quivered with each word, and he couldn't stop himself. "I've done everything to be a good son for my family, but nothing was ever enough. It never will be. I want to do what I want with my life. But I can't do that on my own. I... I'm not strong enough to go against her alone."

Castor brought his warm, calloused fingers to his face, gently tilting his chin up to meet his darkened obsidian eyes. "I know she has. And I'm so proud of you for sticking up for yourself. You know me and my family will always have your back. If you truly wish to bind our fates, I'll do it in a heartbeat."

"Castor," Lucien rasped.

"I would be honored to call you my husband, Lucien. Regardless if this is a fake marriage or not. I promise I'll do everything within my powers to protect you and make you happy."

"Are you sure?" Lucien croaked, his voice a mere whisper in the wind.

"Anything for you." Castor's thumb traced over his lower lip, eyes fogged with a dark hunger that had Lucien struggling to keep his knees from buckling beneath him.

"Springtime would be nice," Lucien's breath hitched. "For a wedding."

Castor slipped his hands along the sides of his head, his fingertips lightly brushing his reddened ears as he whispered against his lips, "Then marry me in the spring." He covered his lips with his, and Lucien tightened his hands around his backside. Their kiss deepened until Castor pulled away, and Lucien ached to pull him back. "Make me yours, Lucien."

Although hesitant at first, Lucien leaned in and kissed him with an intensity that had been building up inside him for what felt like an eternity. His legs trembled, almost giving way beneath him, but Castor, sensing his struggle, gently lifted him by the waist. Lucien's legs instinctively wrapped around Castor's torso, their bodies pressing together as if the world around them had ceased to exist.

🪄

The evening brought a chill that seeped into Lucien's bones. Cromwell manor loomed like a ferocious beast, its iron teeth taunting him to dare cross. Light glowed from the downstairs windows like flecks of gold in the dusk hours, and he knew by now, his folks would normally still be at the Supernatural Council, preparing to head home.

Wind whipped his hair and stung his cheeks as he crossed through the gate with Castor, that sense of foreboding heightening the moment his feet touched the grass. Even it felt wrong. Leaves rustled around them, landing only on the sidewalk and beyond the gates, as if warning him he needed to leave.

"Castor." Lucien froze as he stared at his house like it wanted to devour them. "Something's wrong."

Castor turned back around to come directly in front of him, resting his strong hands on his shoulders. "If you're worried about your folks, I can go grab your stuff for you."

"It's not that." Tightness filled Lucien's throat as a gust of wind swept over them. "You know how you have a strong connection to fire, right? My magic is the same with plants and nature." He gestured around. "And it's telling me we should leave."

Castor raised a brow, as if trying to decide he was losing it or really unsettled. Finally, he said, "We can go if you want."

"Maybe I'm just being paranoid." Lucien shook those eerie sensations off and walked ahead. "Let's just get this over with."

The porch light flickered on for Lucien the moment he reached the door, as if it had been awaiting his return. Lucien pulled the key from his robe's pocket and inserted it into the lock until it gave way with a soft click. The scent of decay was so overwhelming, Lucien swore he'd faint when he stumbled through the door and covered his mouth with a horrified gasp.

Lucien had gone as stiff as a corpse, only shifting his feet slightly into overturned soil when Castor stepped inside to view the carnage. His once vibrant plants were nothing but skeletal remains, with leaves once beautiful lush shades of green now brittle, brown, and dead.

Some of the pots were tipped over, their contents spilling out in clumps at his feet. It was no longer rich and fertile as it once had been, tainted by dark magic that dried it up. The air was thick with a stale must from the decomposing materials, but most prominent was the sulfur blended with burnt pecan pie.

Despite the magic that pulsed through his fingertips, Lucien knew he couldn't bring life back to the precious plants she'd killed. That didn't stop him from dropping to his knees and trying. Embers of green swirled around each broken pot in hopes of saving any of them, but only the remnants of black magic wafted around him, until he could feel their agony in his own skin and had to pull away.

Castor said something to him, but he was too overwhelmed to listen as he searched through his plants as if he could just find one he could save. Instead, he found himself covered in their filthy soil with tears pricking his eyes because he was trying so damn hard not to cry. He knew they were only plants, but they were like his babies. He'd tended to many of them since he was a mere child, and to find their decayed remains scattered across the foyer was too much for his heart to bear.

"How could she do this?" Tears dripped down his cheeks as he touched one of his favorite plants, as if hoping by some miracle his magic could undo what his mother had done. "Charlotte gave me this one because she knew how much I'd been wanting one. I'd promised her I'd take good care of it too."

"Where the hell are they?" Castor stormed ahead, and his flames engulfed his body like a billowing cloak of blazing reddish-orange hues. The heat swept over Lucien when he passed him, and by the time he reached the stairwell, a sea of fire flickered behind him.

There was no fight left within Lucien when he clambered to his feet, swaying as he steadied himself. His mother had warned him he'd regret everything.

"Nobody's here. Fucking cowards." Castor sauntered back down the stairs, his flames dwindling like a candle in the breeze. "I swear I'll burn this gods-damn place to the ground. It'll be nothing but an ash pit when I'm done with it."

"I want to leave." An uncomfortable dryness filled Lucien's mouth. Each intake of air felt like sandpaper being rubbed raw against his throat, and a low buzzing filled his ears as if locusts swarmed around his head.

Strong, hot arms gently guided him back outside. The fresh air was delightful to his senses, and he felt nature stir around him once more. Castor led them to his car, where he walked Lucien to the passenger side and held his door open for him.

Concern creased his features, brows dipping in a tight-knitted frown as his warm, calloused hands caressed his cheeks. "I'll make her pay for doing this to you."

"I should've known better." Lucien whimpered, his lip trembling with each word as he removed his glasses to wipe his eyes. "It was so stupid of me to stand up against her."

"No, it wasn't. If she were here right now, I swear I'd make her pay for this." Castor brushed the pad of his thumb against his lip until it stopped quivering. His obsidian eyes soften, and a comforting warmth permeated Lucien's tear-streaked cheeks. "Are you well enough to sit out here or should I take you home? I can always grab your clothes later."

"I'm fine." Those words were lies, but it was all Lucien could muster out because he needed his clothes. If they waited any longer, he'd probably return to his outfits covered in maggots and riddled with holes.

When Castor disappeared back inside Cromwell manor, his stomach twisted in painful knots at the thought of his dead plants scattered out at the front door. His mother knew just how to hurt him. That was her goodbye present to him, and he had a sinking feeling it was just the beginning of her wrath to come.