Caius D'Onofrio (poweroftheeye) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2021-06-22 18:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | #june 2018, caius, caius x reagan, reagan |
Who: Reagan and Caius
When: morning, Wednesday, June 13th
Where: home
Warning: NSFW in the middle
Status: complete
Caius wasn’t always a good sleeper, but he’d slept soundly through the night, completely unaware that Reagan hadn’t been beside him the entire time. After he was conscious again and had stopped his phone alarm’s obnoxious beeping, Caius sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. He stood up in his boxers and glanced back to see that Reagan’s side of the bed was empty. There was no sound from the bathroom and the light was off. That was unusual -- he usually got up before she did on weekdays, since he was expected at work earlier. Thinking his wife had maybe just gotten thirsty or something, Caius went and did his business in the bathroom, then grabbed a robe to slip into as he left the bedroom.
He half expected to smell coffee on his way downstairs, but he didn’t. Nor did he hear anything in the quiet house. A sense of unease began in Caius’s stomach. He went to the kitchen first, but it was empty and undisturbed from the night before. Had she gone out somewhere super early? Caius couldn’t imagine Reagan doing that without waking him to let him know.
“Reagan?” he called into the house as he stepped into the living room, his eyes scanning until they landed on his wife’s form on the couch.
Reagan had no idea what time it was when she heard her name. It sounded distant, but echoed in her mind, getting louder and louder until she could practically feel warm breath against her ear. Reagan. Westin's voice, pulling her out of whatever dark slumber she had found herself in. Her eyelids fluttered open and though it took her a moment or two, she realized she was on the couch. Her mouth tasted coppery, her throat bone dry. Licking her lips, Reagan pushed herself up a bit and squinted across the room until Caius came into focus.
She was still in her pajamas, though the robe she had pulled on the night before was gone. By all accounts and purposes, Reagan looked normal, but for her dirty feet and dried blood under her fingernails. Pressing them into the couch a bit, Reagan forced a small, sleepy smile.
"Hi." The word was scratchy and low and Reagan cleared her throat to try again. "Morning.”
Fear had lanced through him for a quick second before Reagan started to stir, and he made his way closer to her, thick brows knitting together. She didn’t look hurt, just tired and with dirty feet, like she’d taken a stroll outside in the middle of the night. Maybe she hadn’t been able to sleep and had gone for a walk? Despite knowing how powerful his wife was, Caius didn’t like that idea much. “Morning,” he replied softly, still looking her over with concern. “You okay? More insomnia?” The awful sleepless weekend they’d just been through had been widespread, and Caius had slept like a baby himself, so he hoped Reagan wasn’t having any lingering effects or anything.
Reagan pushed herself up a bit more while shaking her head. "I'm fine." Now that the sleep grogginess was starting to wear off, Reagan felt more than fine, actually. It was the magic pumping through her blood. It felt different in a way she couldn't even begin to explain. It was the feeling of another element pulsating inside of her, curling around her fire. It wasn't terribly strong, but certainly stronger than those weaker elements generally felt. She looked at Caius as vague flashes of the night before began to surface. It felt important to assure Caius that she was all right. Reagan had perfected lying when she needed to do it, but she could rarely lie to Caius. "I must have had a bad dream. I came downstairs to get some water or something and just fell asleep on the couch. I'm all right though. Do you want some coffee?"
Something felt off to Caius, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it yet. Maybe it was that Reagan didn’t seem to remember how she’d ended up on the couch, maybe it was the dirty feet ... but it felt like more than that somehow. He just wasn’t sure what it was. He didn’t know that he believed she was fine, like she said. It was too early in the morning to suspiciously grill her though, so he tried to tell himself he was just worrying too much. This town made him paranoid sometimes, especially when it came to Reagan. “Yes, but don’t get up if you’re not ready,” he said. Caius moved in closer and leaned over to kiss Reagan’s forehead. “I’ll get it. Are you hungry? I can make some breakfast too.”
Reagan smiled her thanks and then shook her head again. "Just coffee for now, thank you." Her stomach was a little unsettled and she didn't think eating would help it much. More than anything she just needed a few minutes to herself. Reagan wanted to sort through everything she thought had happened the night before. And if things had happened as she remembered, why wasn't she more panicked? Or disgusted? Magic seemed to thrum in response beneath her skin and an unexpected amount of warmth spread from her belly through her body. Reagan would have reached for Caius, just to touch him, or give him a proper morning kiss, but her fingers curled more inwardly to her palms. Her mouth still tasted like blood and she didn't want to give him an unpleasant shock. "I'm going to use the bathroom. I'll just take my coffee black today."
“All right,” Caius said amiably enough, but his gaze lingered on her for another heartbeat or two before he turned to pad back into the kitchen. Everything was fine, he told himself. He was just worrying over nothing because their lives had so often descended into chaos in the past year or so. But things had been quiet for months, and he had no reason to suspect that they were anything but quiet now. Caius got the coffee pot started and went to the fridge to pull out some yogurt. If Reagan didn’t want to eat anything, he could just eat something easy before he had to go into work.
Reagan watched him head for the kitchen before she found the energy to stand. Her muscles ached like she had just run a marathon. With a sigh, Reagan stretched and took one step towards the hall leading to the downstairs bathroom before something stopped her. Her gaze was drawn to the door of her workspace. Reagan couldn’t remember going into the room the night before but she felt compelled to do it now. It was as if invisible hands were pulling her to the space and Reagan forgot all about washing her hands. The inside of her workroom looked normal. Things were organized meticulously, the table scrubbed clean of any lingering magic or residue.
Her gaze swept along the shelves of ingredients and supplies until it stopped at one of her cabinet drawers. Just as with the workroom, Reagan felt compelled to go to it. Just before she pulled the drawer open, she tried to ignore the urge. There was a nervous restlessness inside of her, something that told her to leave it alone. But it also felt like a puzzle piece to the night before. Something that would make it real, beyond the dried blood beneath her nails and the taste of it in her mouth.
Inside the drawer was a small jar, the size of her face cream upstairs. But it was glass with a lid screwed on tight and when Reagan lifted it for closer examination, she could see that its contents were… teeth. Bloodied teeth. A mouth full, at least. A few looked as though the roots were still clinging to them.
“Fuck,” Reagan murmured. Did she tell Caius? What would he say? Or do? Her mind was a thorny tangle of questions and uncertainties. Blood was one thing. Teeth. That was something else. Something more sinister.
“Caius?” She called his name, still staring at the contents of the jar. Reagan was torn between revulsion, panic and… something else. Something bordering on pride. That scared her too.
“Yeah?” was Caius’s immediate answer from the kitchen, his head turning to listen. It didn’t sound like Reagan was calling him from the bathroom, and she didn’t answer right away, so he set down the yogurt container and spoon and walked toward her voice. The door to her workroom was open, so that was where Caius went, stepping into the doorway with a vague frown on his face. Reagan was standing there with a small jar in her hand, but he couldn’t quite tell what was in it from there, but the look on her face tugged at that sense of wrongness inside of him again. “Everything okay?” he asked, taking another couple of steps toward her.
It was instinctual to call for Caius but once he was in the room with her, Reagan found she wasn't entirely sure what to say. How could she even explain what she was holding? The urge to slip the jar back into the drawer and close it was strong, but Caius wasn't stupid and it wasn't as if she could hide what she had now. Her emotions were disjointed and contrasting, leaving her speechless for a moment or two as she tried to work out just how to deal with what she thought had happened the night before. It felt like a dream somehow, and yet she was holding evidence of reality in her hand. "I think I did something terrible last night," Reagan said finally, even if the remorse or fear was missing from her tone. She held the jar out to him.
The longer it took for Reagan to answer, the more concerned Caius got. He didn’t crowd her, but his eyes were trained on the small glass jar in her hand. He still couldn’t see exactly what was in it, but he could tell it was bloody. What she eventually said sent a mix of dread and intrigue into his stomach, and Caius stepped in closer to take the jar. He slowly turned it over and around in his long fingers, gazing down at it intently. It was full of teeth, obviously freshly pulled. It looked like a full set to Caius. It was disquieting to look at, and he was naturally worried for his wife, since she didn’t seem to know what had happened, but he felt more curiosity than disgust. “What do you remember?” he asked quietly, his dark eyes coming back up to Reagan’s face.
She remembered Westin. She remembered his promises. But Reagan didn't want to tell Caius about that man. That was a conversation for another time. "I remember waking up and leaving the house," she admitted, her gaze ticking away from his to the jar in his hand. "I remember another witch. I hurt her." Reagan lifted her hands to show him her nails. "I think I killed her." The words slipped from her lips in such a matter of fact way that it startled her a bit. It was like she had Westin in her head, reminding her that this was what she wanted and agreed to. "It feels like a dream, Caius, but it had to have happened. I can taste blood. I have those." She motioned to the jar.
Caius took in the state of Reagan’s nails as her words sank in, and his heart picked up speed. His wife had killed another witch? With no provocation? Unless there was more she wasn’t telling him ... Caius carefully set the jar of teeth down and took Reagan’s hands gently in his. This suddenly reminded him too much of what had happened to his mother before she’d disappeared, how her behavior had gotten ... strange. “Who was it, Reagan?” he asked, his gaze intent but calm. “Do you remember that? Or why you wanted to do this?” Reagan had never been a sleepwalker, and to think she’d just climbed out of bed and wandered out to kill someone for no reason was more than a little concerning.
"I don't know who it was," Reagan said, and that much was the truth at least. She could remember bits and pieces of the night, but the face of the witch wasn't one of them. And she dug deep for remorse, or something that would make her regret what she had told Westin. But it was hard to feel much of anything at the moment. Maybe she was in shock. And she couldn't tell Caius why she did it. He wouldn't understand it. Reagan couldn't bring herself to tell him any children they had might not be born like them. He might not believe her, or he would call Westin a liar. But he wasn't. He had told Reagan the truth, she could feel it in her bones. She gripped Caius's hands tight. "Caius, I just feel like... I had to. I can't explain it and I still feel a little foggy like I'm hungover or something."
His mind had sped up along with his heart, racing forward to the possible consequences of whatever Reagan had done. Had she really murdered someone? Had she left evidence behind, in this homicidal fugue state? Why had she taken the witch’s teeth, of all things? It didn’t sound like the witch had been Zania or Shayna Mae, Caius thought Reagan would recall those faces in particular if it had been one of them. Who else did he know? Brianna McCarthy, or her daughter? Fuck, they didn’t need any more trouble with that family. Reagan’s own mother? That was a dreadful thought that he pushed away. His wife needed him to stay calm, focus, and cover their bases. “Okay ... if you had to, then you had to,” Caius told her, his voice still even and low. “First, let’s get you upstairs and into the shower, okay? I want you to scrub your nails really well. I’ll bring your coffee, see if it helps clear you up a little. Then we’ll figure out what to do next, maybe we can ... get ahead of this somehow. It’s still early, if you can remember where you were, maybe nobody has to know anything.”
There was some deep, instinctual knowledge that there would be nothing left behind for the police to find. Westin had made sure of that. But Caius was right that she needed to shower. If she could just get clean, maybe she could think straight. So Reagan nodded, glancing once more at the jar on the counter before she let Caius lead her upstairs. "I don't think they're going to find anything..." Reagan murmured, once they were in the bathroom. "Nothing that would point to me, anyway. But we can check, if you want to make sure." She would just have to remember where she was. Reagan's gaze ticked to Caius's and she reached for his robe, gripping the sides. "You could send the Obscurities, couldn't you? Have them look? I don't want anyone to see you out there."
Caius wasn’t sure what she was basing the idea that there would be nothing for anyone to find on, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until he made sure. They’d dealt with too much shit to have their current peace ruined by murder charges or a scandal in the witch community. He was fairly sure Reagan wouldn’t go to jail no matter what, Anthony had too much sway with the police and district attorneys and everything, but wiping all traces of his wife from the crime scene would save them all that trouble. Caius set the coffee mug down on the counter to gently rub at Reagan’s forearms as she clung to him. “I can send them to look, but they can’t destroy evidence, fingerprints, DNA,” he told her reasonably. “But it’ll give me a better idea of what to do. We’ll deal with this, okay? Just try to remember where you were.” Caius leaned in to kiss Reagan’s forehead, then pulled away to start the hot water in the shower.
Even this felt like a dream. Reagan thought she ought to be reacting a different way. Feeling a different way. But she stripped as Caius started the shower, trying to remember exactly where she went the night before. There were bits and pieces floating about in her head. The sensation of soft carpet beneath her feet. The flowery smell of a candle, or maybe incense. Reagan stepped into the shower, shivering almost immediately, despite the fact that the water was hot, exactly as she liked it. Closing her eyes, Reagan lifted her face into the spray, doing her best to ignore the stronger magic that was throbbing so pleasantly inside of her. And then it came to her, crystal clear, leaving no doubt. "Camila Ward," Reagan murmured. "It was her. She's on... Sycamore."
Normally Caius would have been climbing into the shower with her, but he had to stay focused, couldn’t get distracted. Time was of the essence, he had a gut feeling, and the sooner he was able to fully assess the situation, the better. He hovered around the shower door however, so he heard Reagan’s recollection when it came out. He knew the name immediately, just as he knew the name of pretty much every witch in Point Pleasant, and some part of Caius felt relief that it hadn’t been someone more important. “Camila Ward ...” he muttered, his brow furrowing as he tried to think of any reason why Reagan’s subconscious would want her dead. She wasn’t a threat to them, she wasn’t even from one of the Six families, she was just ... a witch. Caius moved away from the shower a bit and sat down on the floor with his back against the wall. He crossed his legs and rolled his head on his neck as he geared up to concentrate. “I’m going to send the Obscurities to check it out,” he said, loud enough for Reagan to hear. “Just give me a few minutes ...” Caius closed his eyes and called the spirits up inside of him for some remote viewing.
Reagan remained quiet, but carefully pulled the shower door open just a few inches so she could watch him. His eyes were closed, so she wouldn't be able to see the color change, but it was still fascinating to watch her husband when he was performing magic, even if it wasn't anything she could physically see. While she waited, she grabbed the soap to lather up her hands so she could clean up her nails. As she did so, she tried to conjure up some regret for what she had done. There had to be something resembling remorse inside of her. But it was mostly sympathy for Camila, that she had to be Reagan's first sacrifice. First. The woman barely used her magic, she wasted it. Exhaling slowly, Reagan glanced back out of the shower at Caius as she soaped up her hands.
It was always sort of exhilarating to let the Obscurities carry his consciousness away. It had been difficult to learn how to do without being too disoriented to make sense of the world around him as they saw it, but as with everything, practice made perfect. Caius’s mind became weightless and like smoke, tumbling upward straight through the structure of the house and roof and into the naked air above. The Obscurities sped through the skies, invisible and immaterial, until they reached Sycamore street. The correct house wasn’t difficult to find -- it pulsed and shimmered with a dim magic aura that seemed familiar somehow. As the spirits plunged through the aura, he felt the reason why. Reagan’s magic was here, leftover like a thumbprint. The Obscurities found Camila Ward’s body in bed, seemingly undisturbed if one didn’t look at her face. Caius looked, of course, that was what he was there for. He’d expected a bloody scene, signs of a struggle, something to worry about, but the only blood was on the dead woman’s lips, her mouth empty of teeth. Her eyes were open, a blank white that was disturbing to see even remotely. Caius sent the Obscurities to look around the house, checking for anything that might be obvious to the police as a clue. Nothing stood out to him.
He instructed the spirits to wait and drew his consciousness back into his body, opening those all-black eyes to look at his wife in the shower. His mouth opened to speak, but Caius’s body tensed for a second, as he took her in. With the enhanced vision the Obscurities gave him, he could see the extra magic in Reagan, the remnants of Camila, dancing and swirling and entwining with the fire that was always in his wife. Caius stared for a moment, then wet his lips. “You took her magic,” he said. It wasn’t a question. The question was whether she’d done it intentionally, or there was something else at play here.
Reagan was rinsing the soap from her hands when Caius spoke. She looked over at him, taking in the dark color of his eyes. It didn't really surprise her that he could see the truth. Anthony had given his son the kind of magic a lot of witches in town would kill to have. The thought made her lips twitch briefly. "Yes," she said simply, knowing it was fruitless to lie about it. And she didn't really want to, even if she knew that maybe she would have to do so in the future. With her hands clean, Reagan began to wash her body with the soap, wanting to get rid of any lingering remnants from the night before. "She wasn't using it. She never used it. I didn't know... I assume I didn't know what would actually happen when I did it. Did they find anything?" She meant the Obscurities, of course. Because if Reagan left anything behind, they would have to go take care of it.
Caius’s eyes naturally drifted down over Reagan’s body as she washed herself, but he didn’t really feel distracted, more awed than anything. It had taken a huge, taxing ritual to restore Reagan’s magic to her, and now she could just ... go take it from others? There was more to this story. Caius stood up from the bathroom floor, moving slowly, his black eyes unblinking as he stared at her. It was strangely beautiful to see, her fire magic mingling with the earthy power she’d acquired. Caius wondered how different it felt. She had to be able to feel it, didn’t she? As he approached the open shower door, Caius found himself wanting to feel it too. He shook his head slowly, stopping just short of entering the shower stall with her. “No, it all seems clean,” he murmured in answer, gaze still intent on her. “How did you do it, Rea?”
Of course Reagan had thought about her magic being taken from her. Baron had done it so easily, it seemed and Reagan envied that kind of power, especially coming from a spirit. But Westin was right. Even when she had regained her magic, it had been diluted somehow. Maybe forcing Baron to possess her had been what gave her the ability to do what she had done to Camila Ward. Maybe it was simply something Westin had been able to do to her when she agreed. Reagan didn't know the details and she didn't want to know. All Reagan knew was that she could feel the magic inside of her blood and it was intoxicating. Setting the soap aside, Reagan looked at Caius as she began to rinse off her body. "I don't know. I don't know how I did it. It's still a bit of a blur, Caius. Can you see it? The magic?"
Did he believe that she didn’t know? Was Reagan possessed by something dangerous? Caius didn’t think so -- looking at her through the Obscurities, all he saw was his wife, pumped up with foreign magic that seemed to be merging with hers. Changing hers, adding new layers to it, new power. His gaze roamed down over her again before returning to her face. “Yes, I can see it,” he said softly, reaching one hand out to pass it down the curve of her wet back. His vision was so vivid, Caius almost felt like he could touch it too. Part of him was still worried about her, about why this had happened and if it would happen again -- not to mention the fact that his wife had now murdered someone -- but those worries were dim in his head at the moment. He was too fascinated by what he was seeing and sensing in her. “What’s it feel like?”
Reagan knew Caius worried. She was worried too, though maybe not as much as she should be. Facing him, Reagan tried to find the right words to explain to him the way things felt now. There wasn't really a word to do it justice. "Like it belongs there," Reagan said finally. "Like it's as much a part of me as the fire is. Like it never belonged to her in the first place." That much was true at least. She was still coming to terms with what she had done and maybe she would never fully remember last night, but the power that was simmering beneath her skin made it easier to ignore all of the warning sirens she heard in her mind. She was doing this for Caius, and for the future. Reagan reached out to take Caius's hand, bringing it up to her lips to kiss his fingers. "You can feel it too, can't you?"
Caius took it as a positive sign that the foreign magic felt natural in Reagan. He’d been so deeply tied to air for so long, he could hardly imagine having another element inside of him, especially ingrained deep enough that it felt on par with his natural inclinations. And it didn’t seem that the earth had dimmed Reagan’s fire at all. It had grown her power instead, Caius could feel that too. He probably ought to be disturbed by the way it sent heat rushing to his groin, but he wasn’t. Both of them had always been attracted to power, it was part of why they were so hooked on each other. Not a single part of him was repulsed by what she’d done -- quite the opposite, he felt drawn to her in the moment. Almost hypnotized by watching Reagan kiss his fingers, Caius brushed his thumb over the curve of her bottom lip. “I can,” he murmured.
There was probably a reason why Reagan hadn't been too worried about admitting to Caius what she had done. Maybe there had been a moment of doubt over whether or not she should tell him, but deep down Reagan knew he wouldn't turn against her. Hadn't she known on some level that it would likely arouse him? If he knew there was someone else involved, someone guiding her... that was different. So she knew to keep Westin out of this. Smiling at Caius, she drew his thumb into her mouth and sucked on it slowly. Maybe it said something about their relationship that neither one of them were turned off by such darkness. Caius had demon blood. She had watched him take a man's fingers without flinching. The only reason he hadn't killed Caden Lucas was because Reagan asked him not to. So she knew what he was capable of. And instead of putting her off, it only made Reagan crave him more. "Come in here with me," she murmured, once she had released his thumb.
He drew in a sharper break when Reagan’s lips closed around his thumb, and Caius held her gaze while she teased him. She was the only thing in his life that he was as dedicated to as he was to magic, and Caius knew deep down that absolutely nothing could turn him against her. They were bonded for life, body and soul and magic, for good or ill, and he felt privileged to have her. Especially when she was standing there, naked and glorious and glowing with power, water cascading down her curves. At her words, Caius immediately tugged his robe off of his shoulders and let it drop, then hastily pushed his strained boxer briefs down to get out of them. He stepped into the shower with his erection leading the way, one hand already reaching to hook at the back of Reagan’s neck. He pulled her into a hungry kiss, his other arm slipping around her waist to hold her close. There was no hesitation in him, no thought for the witch who had lost her life the night before, nothing but need for his incredible wife.
She knew he would want her. They were bonded in every way imaginable, but even if they hadn't been, the ambitious power would have been enough to draw him to her. Maybe Reagan had boundaries in the past, but what had that done for her? She was a capable witch, yes, but she wanted to be more than that. She wanted to be Caius's equal in every way. And she knew he wanted that too, even if he would have never said it to her. Reagan's arms came up to snake around Caius's neck when his mouth met hers. His desire was palpable and Reagan slipped her tongue into his mouth, her moan getting lost in the sound of the shower still beating down upon their bodies. As always, her magic reached out to entwine around his. It felt different, somehow... stronger. A part of her wished Camila Ward had been an air witch so she could truly steal Caius's breath, just so he knew what it felt like. Maybe the next one.
Reagan was the only person in the world who could call up feelings in Caius powerful enough to shut down the analytical part of his mind. There were still so many questions surrounding this event, especially if Reagan didn’t have clear answers, so much to worry about, but all of that was quiet for the moment. All he could feel was her magic mingling and swirling with his, so familiar and yet not at the same time, and the pulse of lust in his body, both sensations feeding off of each other. The fire was there, strong and heated as ever, but there was more to feel too, and it was almost like making out with a whole new person. Almost, but not quite. Caius squeezed the back of Reagan’s neck before he backed her up against the shower wall, both hands moving to run over her wet body. He caressed her breasts before slipping his fingers between her legs, a low groan in his throat as he rubbed her.
There would be plenty to deal with later, though Reagan still felt fairly confident that the police would find nothing tying Camila's death to her. It would be a freak occurrence, of course. Unexplainable. But that was normal in Point Pleasant. And honestly, she wasn't worried about any of that right now. She wasn't even thinking about what she had done anymore. All Reagan could focus on was Caius, the way he felt, pressed against her. How warm his skin was beneath her hands. A soft gasp escaped her lips when Caius touched her. She was already wet for him and Reagan arched her hips against his hand, both of her own coming up to slide through his hair, her fingers curling tightly in the dark strands. Unable to help herself, Reagan yanked his head back and bit at his throat, near his pulse point. Not hard enough to draw blood, but just hard enough for it to sting. The urge to mark her territory was always strong, but this morning it was damn near impossible to ignore.
Given the intense feelings rushing through Caius, he wouldn’t have minded if she did draw blood. The sting was enough for the moment, and he hissed in a sharp breath through his teeth. He loved the sense of vulnerability that came with having his throat exposed so roughly -- only Reagan could make him love it. There was often some unspoken power play that flitted between them during sex, and this time he could feel the balance tipping in Reagan’s favor, and Caius was beyond good with that. He wanted it, wanted to feel not just her magic but her power. Many people might not understand the difference, but Reagan did, he knew that. He let out a deep, needy noise and let his eyes close, more than happy to be used however his queen saw fit. Caius stroked her expertly with his fingers, finding those spots she loved the most before he shifted his hand enough to slide a finger into her. Her body was hot and slick and he was dying to get his cock inside of her, but not until she wanted it.
Reagan moaned against Caius's throat, her body clenching around his finger. She could feel just how desperate he was for her, but Reagan was content with making him wait for another moment or two. Her hips moved against his hand, her tongue sliding over the spot where she bit him. There was another, deeper throb within her and Reagan knew it was her magic simmering beneath her skin, wanting to reach out and wrap itself around Caius's. Sometimes that feeling alone was more erotic than anything they could to do one another with their bodies. Reagan allowed herself to get lost in the sharp sensations pulsing through her, forgetting about everything else that had happened over the last several hours. This was all that mattered. Drawing his mouth back to hers, Reagan nipped at his lip, feeling breathless. "Fuck me," she murmured, too impatient to wait any longer.
All Caius wanted to do was merge with her in every conceivable way, to be one with her the way they were so addicted to. He wanted to feel that new fiery earth inside of her while her body wrapped tight around his. Caius kissed Reagan back hungrily, enjoying the feel of her teeth on his flesh all over again. He was more than happy to obey her demand, not hesitating to reach down and hook his hand at the back of one of her thighs to pull it up to his hip. Caius held onto her as he guided his cock to the right spot, relishing the slick heat against his sensitive skin as he just rubbed her a few times. He wasn’t going to make her wait long though, and a few seconds later Caius was pushing into Reagan, a heavier groan escaping him against her lips. There wasn’t a thought in his head about what she’d done -- Caius didn’t care. He would never stop wanting her, they were made for each other.
Reagan's moan was muffled against Caius's mouth. No one else had ever filled her the way Caius did. She knew sometimes it felt like she was romanticizing things, but she truly believed their bodies had been made for one another. Among other things. Snaking her arms around his neck, Reagan held onto him, already starting to lose her breath as she moved her hips to his as much as she could in her position. Reagan could feel his magic pressing into hers, heightening the pleasure that was already pulsing through her. She couldn't help but wonder how amazing this would be when her magic was just as powerful as his... maybe even more so. Because she could, and because she knew he liked it, Reagan slid one hand to press against his throat. She kissed him when she could manage it, finding herself surrounded by blissful heat.
There were times when their magic reached out to touch each other, but it was never as strong and complete as when their bodies were joined too. Caius could feel the difference in Reagan, this new earthy magic entwining with his dark air and becoming something unique between them. It still felt like Reagan though, just an enhanced Reagan. It was intoxicating. Caius groaned against Reagan’s lips between breaths, leaning into the grip on his neck with a bit more pressure. He was such a master of air, and so rarely vulnerable to anyone on earth, it was always a powerful experience to give that control to Reagan. Meanwhile, his hips worked with hers, pumping his cock into her with long strokes, building the pleasure between them, barely hanging onto his control to pace himself.
It was becoming increasingly harder to keep her eyes open. The pleasure was heavy and all-encompassing. But gods, she loved the look on his face when they made love and it was a thrill to know that no one else would ever make him feel the way she did. Knowing that he would be all right, Reagan tightened her grip around his throat, her free hand gripping his hip. The two of them were stubborn people, butting heads often and challenging one another. But it seemed so easy to give up that control when they were joined together. It was the kind of trust she only shared with Caius and she knew he felt the same. With her hand pressed to his throat, Reagan's eyes finally slid shut and her head fell back against the shower wall. Her moans were loud now, echoing in the bathroom. The closer she came to orgasm, the tighter her grip on Caius's throat. His name was a breathless cry on her lips before she hit the peak and began to tremble violently, thankful that he held her up as her knees weakened.
The air in Caius’s lungs was getting thin the harder Reagan gripped his throat, but that was all right. He could hold his breath for a long time, it was part of his gift, but hers was still the only hand he would ever allow to choke him. As he felt Reagan’s body get tighter around him in that way that meant her climax was coming, Caius started to fuck her faster and harder, letting go of his control. God, he loved to feel that increasing pressure, around both his cock and his windpipe. He held onto her tight as she went off around him, pinning her body to the wall even more to keep her upright while he fucked her through her orgasm. With the magic flowing between them and the steam in the air from the shower, it was all a little dizzying but Caius loved getting lost in the intensity. He kept thrusting, varying his speed and depth to wring as much pleasure out of his incredible wife as he could.
Reagan didn't care how loud she got. She wouldn't have been able to muffle the cries even if she had tried. Her orgasm left her shaking, the aftershocks sharper and more intense with Caius still thrusting into her. A low growl grew in her throat and Reagan managed to open her eyes, loving the way Caius looked fucking her, surrounded by the steam from the shower. There was something inside of her that felt so strong at that moment. She knew she had a long way to go before she could truly challenge her husband, but the promise was there. It was almost enough to make her come again. Instead, she tightened her grip on his throat, focused now, wondering if she could bruise his skin. She wasn't strong enough to truly choke him, but he could deny himself that oxygen if he really wanted to. "You're mine," Reagan murmured, thrusting her hips to his, desperate now to watch him lose control.
It was always like being in a different world, a little pocket space that was just their own, filled with nothing but their magic and their desire for each other. That sense was enhanced by the steam and the white noise of the shower and so much fucking heat. The only time Caius liked to be hot was when he was with Reagan. Her fingers digging into his neck was starting to genuinely hurt, but in such a good way that Caius didn’t want her to ever stop. It balanced the throbbing pressure in his balls and let him keep fucking her for a while yet, which was fucking delicious when Reagan was rocking into him like that. Those words drew a groan out of Caius, strained against the grip on his throat. “I’m yours,” he whispered back. Reagan would understand it even if she couldn’t hear him, he felt sure. His thrusts got more and more desperate and frenzied until all that pleasure reached a peak, and Caius cried out hoarsely and bucked against her, shuddering as he emptied himself into her.
Reagan's moan was low and satisfying when Caius spilled inside of her. She kept her hand on his throat for only a moment before loosening her grip and grazing her fingertips over the pink marks her nails left behind. His skin was flushed from the heat in the shower, both from the steam and the sex and Reagan had always loved that look on him. It was one of those rare times when Caius didn't look completely put together and in control. He looked human. Vulnerable. Reagan slipped both arms around his neck again and pressed a breathless kiss to his mouth, her tongue sneaking out to lick at his lower lip where she had bit him earlier. "What do we do now?" she murmured, nuzzling her nose to his. She didn't think there was any reason to go to Ward's house to look for any signs that she had been there. But she also didn't want Caius to carry the burden of worrying about her either.
There was really only one person on earth Caius trusted with his vulnerability, and it was the woman currently crushed against him. Reagan would never betray him, Reagan had his back, she truly saw him and still loved who he was, and it was all mutual. She was all he needed, and he felt it especially keenly in these moments. Caius stayed buried in her for the moment, kissing her back and then lightly clunking their foreheads together. His skin burned a bit where she’d really dug in, and he could still feel the ghost of pressure against his throat, but those things were like parting gifts. “We act normal,” he murmured back to her. “See if anything jogs your memory, maybe ... take some precautions in case it happens again.” He wasn’t sure what those could be yet, since he wasn’t even clear on what happened, but Caius had faith they’d come up with something. He carefully let Reagan’s leg down so she could stand and pulled his softening cock free, then cupped her face with both hands. His eyes had gone back to normal at some point, and they were sincere as they ticked between Reagan’s. “I’d do anything to protect you, you know that, right?”
It would happen again. She knew it, deep in her gut. But maybe she didn't have to kill anyone else. While Reagan knew it had to be done last night, she didn't want to turn into a heartless killer. There had to be another way to reach her goal. "I know," Reagan whispered, her gaze locked onto his. "And I would do anything for you. I did this for you as much as I did it for me. If anyone comes around asking questions... you could alter their memory, right? Like you did with Caden Lucas." Reagan hadn't been too keen on Caius's ability back then, but now it felt like a blessing, like everything he could do would somehow help Reagan achieve her own power. Obviously there would be sacrifices, but they both knew all about that.
Caius studied her silently for a couple of heartbeats, his brows flexing slightly closer together. She’d done this for him just as much as her? Reagan had said she didn’t remember exactly what had happened, how could she be sure of her motivations? It gave him a tug of doubt in the back of his mind, but Caius didn’t want to press her on it. Instead he nodded a bit. “Unless they’re a decently powerful witch, yes, I could do that,” he said, eyes still on her face. And he would, even if Reagan was keeping things from him. He had her back no matter what, just like she had his. Caius pressed another soft kiss to her lips. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “We’ll always be okay.”
Maybe she was keeping things from him, but she had to. Reagan felt it in her gut. If he knew why she was doing this, he might try to stop her. Then again, the prospect of having a child with no magical ability whatsoever was plenty of motivation to do whatever needed to be done. Caius would agree to that, she was sure of it. But right now... she needed to keep certain things to herself. In time, he would know everything. Reagan closed her eyes when he kissed her, her hands resting on his waist. "I'm not scared," Reagan whispered finally. "And I don't want you to worry about this. Please don't tell anyone." And by anyone, she meant his father. But Reagan felt like Caius's days of running to his dad for help were over now. She and Caius could do anything together.
He wasn’t sure it was possible not to worry about something like this. To his knowledge, this was the first person Reagan had ever killed, and it hadn’t been in self defense or anything like that. Caius didn’t think it had been, anyway. Not only that, it had been a fellow witch, insignificant as Camila Ward had seemed to them. Reagan didn’t seem upset about any of it, but who knew how she would feel as time went on. He could read between the lines of her request, and while part of him wanted to scoff and roll his eyes, he knew where she was coming from. “I will always worry about you,” he told her, giving her cheeks a gentle stroke with his thumbs. “Especially if you’re doing things without conscious thought and having memory issues. But it will stay between us.” If he’d been in the same situation, he was sure Reagan would worry about it, so she couldn’t rightly ask him not to. He wouldn’t be able to comply anyway. His words gave her room to explain herself more if she chose to, and Caius watched her eyes closely, unable to shake the sense there was more to this.
Reagan could hear the unspoken question in his words and her fingers tightened briefly on his waist. On some level it felt wrong to keep things from Caius. He was the only person in her life who knew everything about her, including her darker secrets. He had already proven he wouldn't judge her. He had been turned on by what had happened, rather than repulsed. They were alike in so many ways. Did Reagan really doubt that he would've done the same thing had the roles been reversed? For so long it had been Reagan holding Caius back from sinking into the darkness, but now she could understand just how intoxicating it was. "If I tell you," she whispered, her eyes searching his, "you have to swear that you won't try to stop me. Swear on us." She took his hand with hers, the one bearing his wedding ring.
Caius’s gaze flickered downward to where Reagan was holding his hand, then met her eyes again. He felt vindicated and slightly hurt that he’d been right about Reagan knowing more than she said right off the bat, but his feelings weren’t what mattered at the moment. He had to give that promise some real thought, and he didn’t rush into it. Caius didn’t want Reagan to become some sort of serial killer, even though he was attracted to the power she’d taken. It was less about protecting those on the outside and more about protecting her and her sanity. Dark blood magic wasn’t for everyone, and she’d always been his voice of reason, his guiding light in that dark. Would he have to be hers now? Caius licked his lips, doubt etched onto his features, then he nodded. He had to know what was going on in order to help her, if she truly needed it ... but at the same time he needed to trust in his wife. Whatever she was doing, she had reasons. “I swear,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. “On us.”
He wouldn't like having things being held from him and Reagan could understand that. She hated it too. But that was why she was going to tell him now, instead of trying to lie. She had never been very good at that anyway, at least where it came to Caius. Her fingers curled around his and she kept her gaze locked on his, needing to be able to read the emotions in his eyes. "My magic... it's not the same as it was before I gave it up. Yes, I still have it. But it's not as strong. I get cold now." She licked her lips, doing her best to ignore the wildly beating heart in her chest. There were reasons she hadn't told him these things. For one, she didn't want him to feel guilty about it. Reagan was a witch again and ultimately, that had been the most important thing. Her voice dropped to a whisper, though she was sure he could still hear her over the running water. "I won't risk our son being born a disappointment."
He held her eyes, though part of him didn’t want to do so. Caius’s thick brows drew together at Reagan’s words. He hadn’t noticed a difference in her magic after it had been restored ... had he missed something obvious? Had she been suffering under his nose and he hadn’t seen it? Reagan might not want him to feel guilty, but Caius felt it anyway, at least a little. Her last statement was like a punch to the gut, and his lips parted with a quick inhale. “You’re not ... pregnant now, are you?” he asked first, looking concerned. Caius wanted to tell her that no son of theirs could possibly be disappointing, but he knew deep down that having a magic-less child would hurt. He would love them anyway, unlike his own father, but to not have an heir to everything they’d built together? Everything they’d worked for and still were? It made sense that Reagan wanted to ensure that didn’t happen. Whether she was going about it the right way or not ... Caius didn’t know the answer to that.
Smiling a little at his question, Reagan shook her head. There was mild worry in his eyes, rather than a flash of excitement and she couldn't exactly blame him for that. Given what had just happened and what they had been through over the past year, having a baby was just something else to be concerned about. It wouldn't be just them anymore. "Not right now. Not yet." But she knew it would be soon. It felt like the right time and Reagan had a feeling that it would happen whether they were ready or not. Just in case he felt like he might want to argue, Reagan’s smile faded and she lifted her chin stubbornly, her tone making it clear that nothing was going to change her mind. "I'm not going to let some fucking curse, or a dead witch ruin our future. I know how to fix this, so I'm going to."
Though he very much wanted a child with Reagan, the timing would’ve been all wrong for it to be happening now. Reagan had just killed someone, Caius still didn’t understand exactly what was going on, he didn’t feel prepared for that sort of news. So he was reassured to hear that Reagan wasn’t pregnant yet. One less thing to stress about. Caius’s lips quirked upward a tiny bit at her sudden declarations, but there was nothing mocking in the expression. He honestly loved it when she got determined and fiery about something, and those words were definitely fiery. “And how’s that?” he asked, more curious than challenging. “Tell me what you’re doing, Rea, please.”
"I'm taking what I need," Reagan murmured. She brought her hands up to run them through his wet hair. "We've been fighting for our happiness for so long, Caius. Aren't you tired of it? You're already so strong and sometimes I feel like everything falls on your shoulders. But, you can't guarantee our child will be born with our abilities. I can. I sacrificed my magic to make you whole again, so it's my fault that it's not as strong as it once was. Now I have the opportunity to strengthen it and make it something no one else can touch. Only, this time I won't be the one making the sacrifices. I'm taking what I deserve. What we deserve." She hoped he understood that. Her memory was still a bit foggy, so she couldn't exactly recall how she stole Camila's magic, only that she did. It was likely Westin working through her, and right now, Reagan was okay with that.
Caius’s analytical mind wanted to know the How -- what spells she was using, what powers she was calling on, all the details. Information he could’ve used to help her better when they’d been trying to restore her magic. If he’d known what she knew now, maybe they wouldn’t have needed the coven to fix her. But if Reagan wouldn’t or couldn’t tell him, he was going to have to wait, he supposed. He frowned faintly and shook his head a little as she said it was her fault, because it wasn’t. It had been the circumstances. His hands had been resting on her hips, and Caius used them to pull her in closer again. “I hear you,” he murmured. “And you do deserve it. We do, our future child does. I want to help you. This entire town is our birthright. I just ... more than anything, I need you to be okay. And if this gets out, that you’re killing witches to take their magic ... maybe there’s a less lethal way to do this?” Caius was strong and powerful, yes, and he had Anthony to back him up, but if the rest of the magical community turned on them, Caius wasn’t sure they could handle the situation in a way that wouldn’t leave everyone dead. As much as he hated some of them, he didn’t want that.
If Reagan truly knew the how, she probably would have told Caius. But she wasn't entirely sure what had happened, or how she had done what she did. All Reagan knew was that it had worked. "It won't get out," Reagan said firmly. "I'm not leaving behind any magical evidence, Caius, I know that much. I don't think I meant to kill her." She frowned thoughtfully. "But I don't know if there's a non-lethal way to do it. I mean, there must be if Baron was able to take my magic while she was dead. But..." Trailing off, Reagan's frown deepened and her hands rested on his shoulders. "I had help. He... there's a man. He's the one who told me to get the coven together when I had lost my magic. He came to me again to tell me what to do." She hadn't planned on telling Caius about Westin. It was all so much information already. But if Caius could help her, she wouldn't be opposed to it, especially if it meant she wouldn't have to kill again. "The problem is, I don't remember what I did last night. What magic I used. Maybe it will come back to me, but right now, I just have small glimpses and feelings."
Reagan may have been careful this time, but if this became a pattern and she was suddenly growing exponentially in power while witches all over town were dying ... Caius was worried that someone would put two and two together. Reagan derailed that train of thought pretty quickly though, by mentioning a man. A man she had apparently talked to before, months ago, but never mentioned. A man who came to her? Why did that sound so ominous? Caius was frowning again, getting a very unhappy sense that he’d been left out of the loop on a lot more things than he realized. How much else had Reagan been keeping from him? Feeling completely out of control of this situation now, something that always made him deeply uncomfortable, Caius gently took Reagan’s hands off of his shoulders and reached around her to turn off the showerhead. “Come on, let’s ... let’s talk about this somewhere else,” he muttered. He pushed the shower door open and reached for a towel as he stepped out. He was thrown off balance and a little hurt, he didn’t want to be naked anymore.
Reagan wrung some of the water from her dark hair before she stepped out of the shower after Caius. Her body shivered from the cooler air on her skin and she grabbed a towel to wrap it around her body. "You're upset," she said. It wasn't a question. She saw it in the lines of his face and in his eyes. His body language. Reagan knew finding out about Westin would bother him, which was one of the reasons why she had debated keeping it to herself for a while longer. But things had shifted so abruptly now and deep down she knew he deserved to know. They so rarely kept things from one another. But she hoped Caius would understand once she explained it to him. She needed him to understand.
As reserved as he was in front of most everyone in his life, he’d never been able to hide his emotions well from Reagan. She was the only person he really trusted, which was why it stung to learn that she’d been keeping things from him. He had one or two secrets himself, indiscretions from when his brain had been scrambled, but he knew those would just bring her unnecessary pain and that was it. This man seemed important. Supernatural, obviously knowledgeable, perhaps dangerous. Something he would consider necessary information. “Of course I’m upset,” he replied, his voice purposefully calm and even. Caius dried himself off quickly and picked up his robe to slip into again. He craved clothing, armor. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.” Without looking at Reagan, he walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He fished a pair of boxer briefs out from his drawer and pulled them on.
She definitely knew him well enough to know that his calm demeanor was nothing more than a facade. It was generally easier to deal with his anger when he was yelling, but Reagan didn't want that either. Following him into the bedroom, Reagan watched him get dressed. "I didn't intend to hurt you by keeping certain details to myself. I did it to protect you, Caius. I knew you would probably try to intervene and get involved and we were running out of time. Baron had tried to kill you already." There had been nothing salacious about what she kept from him. Nobody had gotten hurt. Well, except for Camila Ward but Reagan didn't factor her into this at all. She and Caius were strong and that was the only thing that mattered. How they got there wasn't important, was it?
Caius stopped short of pants, leaving him in just his underwear and a black t-shirt, but that felt better than being nude at the moment. He paced the length of their bedroom once or twice, listening to Reagan’s excuses as emotions bubbled around inside of him. This man sounded like more than ‘certain details’ to Caius, and the clarification that he’d approached Reagan even back then and she’d kept quiet about it just made him feel worse. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and took a deep breath and tried to keep a leash on his temper. Reagan had just been through a lot, and he wanted to help her more than fight. “That was months ago,” he pointed out, shooting her a dark look. “Whatever decisions you made at the time, you didn’t think to fill me in after it was over? Who is this man, Reagan? What is this man, who has all these powerful answers for you? Any potential threat to this family, to you ... I need to know. We can’t be blindsided again, do you agree?”
Reagan felt oddly vulnerable being naked while he was partially dressed, so she walked over to her dresser to pull out some clothes. She felt her own temper rising to the surface, fire and defiance, a certain stubbornness that refused to see his side of things because she was so convinced that she was right in this. But Reagan also knew he did have a point, because she would have been furious had he kept things from her too, especially when it involved both of them. "Honestly, Caius, after it was over... I almost forgot about him. It felt like it had been a dream and after a while, I began to wonder if it really had been. I haven't seen him again until last night." She tugged the towel from her body and tossed it onto the bed to get dressed. "I don't know what he is. But he's never been a threat to us, or to me. He's done nothing but help me. Maybe that's why you're angry." Reagan slipped into a shirt, turning to look at her husband. "There was someone else who knew the answers that you didn't."
Hearing that the man had faded from Reagan’s memory afterward only made Caius more concerned. He knew better than most the magic that was required to be able to manipulate people’s memories. The desire to point that out vanished immediately at Reagan’s final words, humiliation and shame bubbling up to take its place, feelings that only intensified the injured anger he was already feeling. Caius paced in closer to her as his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “Is that really the kind of tone you want to take with me right now?” he asked incredulously, the words tight. “You know how hard I tried to help you.” They always knew what buttons to push in each other when they were fighting, and it seemed like this was ramping up into a fight. Caius took a step back and tried to recalibrate. She was deflecting because she was in the wrong about not telling him sooner, that was all. “If he hasn’t been threatening, then he wants something. Start from the beginning, I want to know everything you remember.”
Her own shame leaked in through the defensive anger she felt and Reagan's expression softened slightly. He had done his best to help her. But Reagan also knew about his ego and how it had undoubtedly taken a hit today, knowing someone else out there had given her the answers. Turning away from him, Reagan slipped into some underwear before searching for a pair of shorts. She was delaying a bit, but once she was dressed, Reagan sighed and ran her hands over her face. "It was... I don't know, January? All I really remember is that I woke up in the middle of the night. I felt something, someone, downstairs. He was there. He told me he could help me get my magic back. He told me about the coven." She crossed her arms against her chest, feeling as though she was confessing a multitude of sins to her parents and was bracing for punishment. "All he wanted was a favor in return. And that was it. He never came back so I more or less forgot about him. I thought maybe it had been a dream and it was just my subconscious giving me the solution. And then he came back last night." Reagan paused. "His name is Westin."
Caius’s ego was definitely smarting -- the truest words stung the most, didn’t they? He’d spent his whole life working so hard to be the best, at the top of every game, to meet his father’s expectations. Not to mention, he loved Reagan with every fiber of his being, and it had killed him inside to fail over and over again to restore her magic himself. To give her back what she’d sacrificed for him. It was a tender topic, and it hurt to have any failure thrown in his face, but there were bigger things to worry about at the moment. The word ‘favor’ made his insides twice uncomfortably. Caius had to think there was some serious mind manipulation going on for all that not to set off red flags in Reagan’s brain. Caius went and sat on the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through his hair again. “Westin,” he muttered. “What’s he look like? How does he talk to you? Are there any demonic tells? Weird eyes, weird feet, any certain smell? I’m assuming he didn’t tell you what kind of favor he wants ...”
Part of what made their relationship work was that they both knew one another inside and out, better than anyone else in their lives. Unfortunately, that also meant they knew how to hurt each other better than most. It was never malicious on Reagan's part, at least not anymore. Now it felt like a way to protect herself, especially when, deep down, she knew she had done something wrong. Reagan walked over to Caius and stood a few feet in front of him. "He's tall. Brown hair, dark eyes. I didn't recognize any demonic tells and he didn't feel demonic to me." To Reagan, he felt stronger than a demon, but she knew that wouldn't exactly make Caius feel any better. "He's not after my soul, Caius. I don't know what he wants from me, but... there are things I'm willing to make sacrifices for. I know you would understand that better than most."
He knew there were forces out there bigger and badder than demons, and they could make themselves look oh so benign ... but not all of them were out for destruction. Some things could be bargained with, even collaborated with. His Obscurities were a low level example. Maybe this Westin didn’t intend awful things for Reagan. He had to trust her instincts to some degree, didn’t he? And she seemed so unbothered by any of this. “I do, I understand,” he said, rubbing his palms against his thighs for a moment. If something like that had approached him and offered a solution to Reagan’s missing magic, he would have promised a favor too. There was a part of him that wanted to know why Westin hadn’t come to him, but Caius tried to ignore that. “And he was involved in whatever happened last night ... to show you how to ... take Camila’s power?” he asked, gesturing a bit with one hand. “For another favor? Did you promise him anything again?”
Reagan moved to sit down beside Caius, her hands clasping together between her knees. "Yes, he was with me last night. I think... I think he worked through me. But I'm not lying to you when I say it's all still a bit of a blur. I remember parts of it, but not everything. And I feel like I could do it again if I wanted to. He didn't ask me for anything last night and I didn't promise anything." Reagan paused as part of the night came back to her, clear as day. The smell of burning flesh wafting into her nose. She had tried to burn him when he touched her. She had burned him. But it hadn't affected him in the least. Sighing, Reagan gripped the edge of the bed tightly. "I should have told you about this months ago. I'm sorry I kept it from you. I just wanted to fix things and I know that you always take so much on your shoulders. I just wanted it to be over."
Caius could see it from her perspective, he really could. He didn’t even know that he wouldn’t have made the same decisions, in her position. He probably would have. But he’d always been more keen to take risk upon himself than see Reagan take it. The parts of him that needed to be in control were still freaking out a bit -- it hadn’t happened to him, so he hadn’t seen Westin for himself, hadn’t felt his energy, got a sense of him. He was a big question mark that now had who-knew-what kind of influence over Reagan’s life. The last of Caius’s anger dissipated at Reagan’s apology and reasoning, and he gave a sigh as he slid one arm around her and leaned in to lightly clunk their heads together. “I know you did,” he murmured. “And you did find the answer. And we got it done. I probably would have done the same, I’m just ... protective of you.”