They had only barely just gotten into town when Cohen’s father sighed loudly, turning down one of the roads that definitely wasn’t toward the local Wal-Mart, muttering under his breath about no one having any respect nowadays.

Cohen waited patiently for a few minutes, hoping that maybe his father would kindly explain what he was griping about, but then he was pulling into the Stewart’s driveway and Cohen’s stomach was sinking. “Uhm, dad?” He asked weakly, feeling nauseous. Had Silas done something stupid? He didn’t think he would be able to stand aside if things went south between his dad and Silas, even though he knew his Dad didn’t have a violent bone in his body. The same couldn’t be said for Silas though, and he didn’t like to think about who he’d defend in a fight that Silas instigated.

However, his dad was already halfway out of the car. “You didn’t get those freakish Alpha genes from me, Cohen. I know you’d be able to feel the full-grown witch in that house if you got your head out of your ass, honey.”

So, Cohen stumbled out of the car on shaky legs, suddenly hyperaware of the auras inside of the house. Silas’s was there, as usual, but his own oppressive energy seemed like child’s play compared to the massive black hole inside of the house. The fact that he hadn’t noticed it before was kind of astounding.

His dad was already ringing the doorbell by the time he made it to the porch. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Your mother would kill me if she found out I knew there was another witch in our town and didn’t go speak to them. She always goes on business trips at the most annoying times, I swear.” His father huffed, like this was all terribly inconvenient for him, crossing his arms over his chest as they waited.

Mr. Stewart, the human who Cohen had never really liked, answered the door. The man’s eyes widened, his tanned skin growing five shades paler as he saw them. Then he was trying to cover it up, grinning nervously at Cohen’s dad. “Ah, Mr. Sterling. What brings y’all here?”

“Just to visit, Jayson. I never got to properly meet your stepson.” His dad lied easily, his fake smile appearing much more genuine than the human’s. “Aren’t you going to invite us inside? It’s hotter than a witch’s tit out here.”

“Oh, of course, where are my manners?” Jayson moved aside under the obligation of southern hospitality. The second the wolves stepped inside, there were two figures also standing in the foyer, seemingly out of thin air. If Cohen thought Silas was impressive, his father was just ridiculous. The Necromancer was easily the tallest man Cohen had ever seen, he had to be almost seven feet, with willowy limbs and translucent skin. Cohen would have thought him handsome, if not for his heavy onyx eyes and undeniable presence. It had his skin prickling, muscles tensing, and his brain screaming danger, danger.

Looking at Silas was much easier, and standing next to his biological father, the resemblance was uncanny. Still, Silas had human blood in his veins, making his features a little less angular, his height a little shorter, his aura a little softer. He was still intimidating though, like a snake coiled, ready to strike, as he watched them.

It was Silas who was the first to speak. “Lunos Gerard.” He nodded to his father stiffly, before those silvery eyes feel on Cohen. They narrowed slightly, “Puppy.” He knew that he should have growled then, stood up for himself from the insulting nickname. But Silas had barely been speaking to him since last week and knowing that his soul mate was upset with him made him want to bare his neck and apologize profusely for misbehaving.

“Are you really werewolves? Like in the movies?” Cohen had nearly forgotten that the human was still there, flinching slightly under four supernatural gazes.

“You revealed our existence to this human?” His father demanded, but the older Necromancer shook his head.

“No, it was Ethan that disclosed the information.” He explained, “My name is Ciaran Erebus. I assume that you are here to assure that I am not a threat to your pack? How about I treat you and your son to lunch, I’m afraid it’d be rather rude of us to impose upon the Stewart’s home any longer.”

Which was exactly how they ended up in the town’s only Italian restaurant, Silas’s dad sipping on a glass of red wine and looking exactly what Cohen thought a vampire would look like. Not that he had ever met one before. Anxiety made his stomach flip, not just from nerves, but from sitting right across from his mate. Silas was pretty, or handsome rather, in the lowlight of the restaurant, a natural pout on his pink lips as his nimble fingers picked apart his breadstick. He wasn’t even eating it, just picking at it as if his hands needed something to do while he looked around the area with a bored expression on his face. Cohen wanted to encourage his mate to eat, thinking that the witch was much too skinny, but he knew that it was his bond putting those urges into his head. He naturally wanted to provide for his soulmate, to prove that he was worthy enough to mate with. Which was stupid, and he was sure witch’s brains didn’t even think that way, so he stamped it down.

Glancing over, he realized that Ciaran was watching him watch his son and he quickly lowered his head, hoping the older Necromancer wouldn’t think anything of it. Ciaran cleared his throat then, breaking the tense silence that had fallen upon them since ordering their drinks. “So, you have been introduced to my son then?”

“Yes, he made his appearance known by trespassing in our territory some months back.” Cohen’s father noted and didn’t miss the annoyance flash in Silas’s eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came, Silas smiling politely, “My apologies, Lunos. As explained before, I didn’t know the signs of a wolf territory and didn’t realize until it was too late.”

“But he has stayed out of trouble since then?” Ciaran asked, and suddenly Silas’s eyes were on him for the first time since the Necromancer had insulted him as a greeting earlier. They weren’t pleading like Cohen would have expected, instead they were sharp, daring him to even so much as breathe the wrong way.

So, Cohen dutifully stayed silent about the threats from last week, and his dad reassured that Silas had been behaving himself. The grownups mostly talked after that, Ciaran explaining his sudden appearance and being overall much more pleasant than his son. Silas sat quietly beside him, moodily eating his fettuccine alfredo. He wondered if the witch was ever in a good mood.

By the end of it, Cohen’s dad seemed completely awestruck, seeming to make fast friends with the other witch. He couldn’t help but feel a little on edge. Even if the man was much more poised and polite than his son, he was still a witch, and surely his intentions were all the same.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That night, Cohen was expecting to dream of Silas, as he normally did.

He was naturally confused when he found himself sitting on a white bench, seemingly in a garden full of flowers. Everything was still dreamlike, the edges of his peripheral blurry but he was more notably aware of himself, more so than usual. He could look around, see the white fluffy clouds dotting the blue sky and the stone path below him, but he couldn’t get up off of the bench and move.

“Cohen. Can you hear me?” His head snapped up at the question, and he realized across from him was sitting Ciaran Erebus, this time dressed in a black robe that he noticed had a skull on the sleeve.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” He asked, surprised at his own voice.

“Good, good.” Ciaran seemed to nod, smoothing his robe out, “I’ve never tried entering a wolf’s dream before, but it wasn’t that much different than most. I wanted to speak with you alone, Cohen, and this was the only way without prying ears.”

If he had been in control of his own body he would have jumped up, maybe even attacked the Necromancer, but he couldn’t move. Panic flooded his system a moment, and he had to close his eyes, forcing himself to calm. He was dreaming and the Necromancer couldn’t hurt him here. “About what?”

“The connection between you and my son. I haven’t seen many witch and werewolf matings, but I can still recognize one when I see it.” It was hard to tell the expression on the Necromancer’s face, especially because of his eyes, but he didn’t think it was disgusted.

“I have no plans on acting on it.” He said immediately, wanting to explain himself, “I would have rejected him…but my wolf won’t let me.”

“What?” The man asked, brows furrowing in obvious confusion. “Why wouldn’t you act on it?”

“I’m not gay.” He supplied, deciding against including the obvious problem with their differing species. Somehow, he figured the witch wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Bisexual then.” Ciaran waved his hand, dismissing the topic entirely. As if the fact that they both had dicks wasn’t an issue in the slightest. “Selene chose Silas out of every being in the universe for you. I know that you wolves have your own speculations on why and how she does things, but who are you to question a goddess? Has it ever crossed your mind that it might be kind of insulting to her that you don’t want the mate she specifically picked out for you?”

And well, that had Cohen blanching, opening and closing his mouth in a confused way. No, he had never thought about it that way, not that he had any way of knowing the goddess’s true intentions. He’d just sort of assumed he was being punished, but was that his own thoughts, or something that he had been taught? “B-but my pack…”

“Are they just homophobic or prejudice against witches?” Ciaran asked, and the way that he looked away was apparently enough of an answer. The Necromancer sighed audibly, “Just think about it, Cohen. You and Silas are compatible, even if the kid is a brat. I know you don’t know me well at all, and have no reason to trust me, but if you ever need it, my door is always open.”

Then the witch made a strange hand gesture, and everything faded to black.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing he registered when he woke up was pain. Axe was howling in his head, a hurt, strangled noise that did not fit that of an Alpha wolf. Cohen was sitting up immediately, clutching onto his chest, where he felt like a gaping hole had been tore from his heart.

There was a faint smell in his room, one that didn’t belong but was incredibly familiar. The scent brought images of his best friend, his closest confidant, his future Beta. It made the hole in his heart take shape, making his brain realize what exactly was missing. He was scrambling out of bed, knowing that everyone in his pack had felt the packmate bond being broken, even if not as strongly as Cohen was experiencing it.

He was barely on his feet when his eyes found the source of the scent, an envelope sitting on his desk, his name written in her boxy penmanship. Cohen stumbled over to it, not bothering to be careful as he ripped the envelope open. Inside was a single sheet of folded notebook paper.

Dear Cohen,

I found my mate. She’s human, completely amazing, and perfect, and I can’t live my life without her. I don’t expect you forgive me for abandoning you, but I know you understand. I won’t tell you where I’m going, but hopefully in a few years we can see each other again, and hopefully by that time you’ll have come to your senses about your own mate.

I love you and I know you’ll be okay,
Lennon

He read over it a few times, forcing his brain to make sense of the words he was reading. Cohen wanted to feel angry, to feel betrayal deep in his bones and fill him with rage, but he couldn’t. Instead he could only sigh, rubbing the physical ache in his chest at the loss of the bond with his best friend. He allowed himself those few moments of intense sadness until there was pounding on his bedroom door, and he crumbled the paper up in his hands and threw it under his bed, making a mental note to burn it when he had the chance.