Mistletoe (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 16

Alister awakens to an empty cell. Neither Killian or Mike's scents attached to its walls. He acts to stand, the cold iron of his shackles biting into his ankle.

"I wouldn't pull against those if I were you." He looks up to see Cartrite sitting in a chair across the room. "Mistletoe iron really can do a number."

"I'm no stranger to chains. You know that, Cart." The Headmaster stands, looking down at the Elder.

"You speak to me so recklessly." He states. "Do you not know who I am? The things I am capable of?"

"I know exactly who you are, Mi amor." Alister says, his fists clenched tight in his lap. "Why now do you seek a private audience?"

"I'm the Headmaster. I can do as I please." He responds, a clear edge in his voice.

In the days since his ascension, Cartrite has buried himself into his role. Taking claim to a stolen throne makes you many enemies. They've all been distractions to the true goal.

As Felix has reminded him constantly.

Yet through it all this individual, this Werewolf, has been in the back of his mind. Their brief encounter, despite his brutal action towards the man, had triggered something in him. He now intends on figuring out why.

"I have some questions." Cartrite says, pulling the chair closer to the Elder.

Alister's breath catches in his throat when Cartrite sits down. Knees brushing ever so gently against one another. The jolt of need that flows from the contact sends his mind reeling.

"Who are you?" Cartrite asks, no hint of aggression in his tone.

"My name is Alister Nobles, Elder of the Silverfang pack." A slap turns the man's head. Alister growls, canines barred.

"I meant," Cartrite let's put an exhausted chuckle, "who are you to me?" He leans forward meeting the man's eyes.

"Why do you care?" Alister asks. "I thought your almighty god was all you needed."

Cartrite winces as if hit by the man. Why did his response cause such hurt? His hand raises to land another strike, but his eyes land on the man's bare chest, learing out just underneath the torn fabric of his shirt.

"What is that?" He asks leaning closer. He makes the tear wider to garner a better look. All the time, Alister's eyes not once leaving his form.

Cartrite uncovers the skin, the warmth like a blaze against his fingertips. He traces over the mark.

It starts as a rose-like shape with a throned stem tracing from his right pectoral up to a hidden spot along his collarbone.

"What does this mean?" He asks furiously. "What sorcery binds this?" This has to be a plot. Their brief meeting must've triggered something.

"I apologize, Your Grace." Alister snipes. "I have no more control over magic than I do over you. You fuel a delusion."

Alister's jaw unclenches for a flash only to reset in an instant. This version of Cartrite smells off. His scent that if what he remembers but tainted with something he can't even begin to describe.

For him to not only touch the marking, but to have no remembrance of its value?

His heart shatters.

"I will leave you to think." Cartrite says, finally rising, his eyes shut to ease his ire. "When I return, I expect you to tell me what I wish to know."

"I guess you've never been told to keep low expectations have you, Headmaster?"

Cartrite ignores the final comment, leaving the Elder. He settles outside the door, his heart pounding against the cage of his chest.