Chapter Two

Benedict shivered as he and Dixon left the plane. England, especially in Yorkshire, could get bitterly cold, and after the more temperate climate in California, Benedict expected to feel the difference. But it was more than just the chill in the night air that set Benedict's nerves on edge. When he left England, Benedict vowed never to return, and he resented the hell out of the Magical Council for forcing him to break his promise.

The car was waiting, as Benedict knew it would be. He had good staff, even though he hadn't seen them for years. "Jarvis," he said, acknowledging the driver with a tight smile and a nod, "The years have been good to you. This is Dixon Cottle, my Fated Mate. I know I can count on you and the rest of the staff to treat him well during our stay."

"Congratulations on your mating, and it's lovely to see you back, sir." Jarvis nodded, before straightening and opening the back door to the limousine. "Mrs. Porter has arranged for some light refreshments after your journey. Would the Lord Consort prefer a more substantial meal?"

An oblique reference to my mate's shifter status. I knew that would start soon enough, Benedict thought grimly, but he kept his smile. "Dixon and I will both enjoy a full meal, if you could call ahead to the house and let Mrs. Porter know. Dixon, after you."

Benedict waited until they were both seated and the car was underway before checking the privacy screen. "I am not sure if any of my staff have interacted with a shifter before," he said, keeping his voice low as he leaned in against Dixon's shoulder. "But those I employ are good people, and while I wouldn't confide in them, they will be respectful and perhaps more importantly, loyal to us both."

"I'm glad to hear you've ordered a meal." Dixon settled back, draping his arm so it was heavy and comforting around Benedict's neck. "You barely ate anything before the trip."

"It's this place." Benedict looked out the side window. The lack of streetlights meant he couldn't see a lot, but he knew every inch of the countryside they were driving through. "Even the air is different, did you notice?"

"It's chilly," Dixon admitted. "As a bear, that's not going to bother me, but I hope you brought a coat with you."

Despite his anxiety, Benedict chuckled. "It does get a lot colder in Yorkshire than it does in California. But then I spent a year in Alaska one time, and I still swear that it can get colder in Yorkshire than up there, and I don't care what any weatherman might say about it. There's more though, isn't there? I can feel it through our bond. What are your instincts telling you?"

"You mean apart from thinking we should just stuff this lot and get back on the plane?" Dixon's breath was warm against Benedict's hair. "You're right. This situation stinks beyond the obvious. I can't stop wondering why all this is happening now."

"I thought it was because of the business with the changeling," Benedict admitted.

"I can't think why, but even if that was the case, you've lived in North America for years, and no disrespect to your immediate family, but their deaths were years ago, too. Why haven't the Council ever found out what caused that explosion in your family home before this? They had to know, logically, that it wasn't your fault. You weren't even there and that was proven. Why use the threat of arresting you for what was clearly a criminal act that happened more than ten years ago to force you to face them now?"

"Both good questions, and ones I've been racking my brain trying to answer since the summons came. I was understandably upset when I learned of the explosion…" Benedict inhaled sharply as a familiar jolt of pain zinged his heart. Some pains would never heal and being back in England brought up many feelings Benedict believed he'd buried along with his family.

"The Dule name is highly respected in magical circles. I fully expected the Magical Council to investigate how and why the explosion happened, and more importantly who caused it, as soon as it occurred. But as you know, they never did. First they tried to blame one of my siblings – a spell gone wrong, how tragic – and then… well, now they are threatening to accuse me of murder, and the only reason I can come up with is that someone on the Council still wants a zombie army under their control."

"Which you and Monica have already hashed out is impossible to do." Dixon nuzzled Benedict's hair with his nose, sending warmth through Benedict's chilled soul. "Is that why you were spending all your time in the attic before we left, getting all the evidence together to support your thesis that what they're insisting you try can't happen?"

"Partially," Benedict admitted. "Although, you have to remember, I'm not the only Necromancer in existence. I believe there are four, I think, in the UK, or it might be three and I could be the fourth. I'm not sure. And it could be that the council has already tried to work with them to raise this army of theirs, and those Necromancers were unsuccessful. Although I like to think Monica, or Uncle George would've let me know if they'd heard anything about that."

"And they're holding the summoning of your parents over your head as a means to force you." Dixon's growl was as cute as his nuzzling.

"They seek to strip me of everything, to emotionally reduce me to a shell of a man so they can use my magic. Clearly they won't stop at anything to get what they want." Benedict patted his jacket pocket and then reached in and pulled out a box. "That's why I'd like you to wear this." He handed it to Dixon who held it and flipped the lid on it all one-handed.

"A ring?" Dixon's confusion was evident. "We already wear each other's marks and while I'm not saying we couldn't marry sometime in the future, and the answer to your unspoken question is yes absolutely, is this the right time for proposing something like this?"

"My precious bear." Benedict's smile was real for the first time in days, and he knew his wonderful shifter mate could sense and see the difference. "There will come a time when we will get married if that's what we both want, but if that happens I'll make sure you have the most romantic proposal ever seen on either side of any ocean, I promise. You deserve nothing less. But this…" he tapped the ring, "I need you to promise me that for as long as we're on this side of the Atlantic, that you wear this and never take it off. Not for any reason. Not even to shower or wash your hands and absolutely don't let anyone convince you that you need to remove it. Please."

Dixon moved his arm from Benedict's shoulder so he could hold the ring box in one hand and take the ring out with the other. "It's very old," he said slowly, turning it over in his fingers.

"It was one of the few items I was able to salvage from my family home after the explosion. It was originally my father's. I hope you don't mind."

"I hope he doesn't mind. The magic in it is yours though, am I right?"

"Clever bear." Benedict nodded. "It is highly magically enhanced. Once you willingly put it on, it won't fall off. Even when you're in your lovely bear form, it will adapt to grace your bear's claw on the corresponding paw."

"This is really important to you." Dixon stroked over the coat of arms on the top of the ring. "Why do I get the impression this is not just a fancy way of telling people we're mates?"

"Because as you said we wear each other's marks for that. The purpose of that ring is to absorb magic – any magic thrown or cast in your direction in any form, from ingested potions or magically tainted food, enhanced scents, to blatant magical attacks." Benedict watched Dixon's face closely.

"Why do I get the impression you believe we're going to face more than a bunch of boring council officials for a meeting?"

Benedict's shoulders sagged as Dixon slid the ring on his wedding finger. He'd poured a good chunk of his magical energy over two days into the protection spell the ring carried. "Because you're learning more about magic users with every passing day," he suggested, kissing Dixon's cheek. "The meeting is just the opening shot. Only the Fates know what will happen after that. Thank you for trusting me on this."

"Hey." Dixon's arm was back over Benedict's shoulder again. "I know you think you're alone on this side of the Atlantic, and maybe after your family was killed that was the case. But not anymore. I won't leave your side, and I'll eviscerate anyone who tries to make me."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Benedict soaked up the warmth of Dixon's embrace one moment more as the car slowed to a stop. The mansion was ablaze with lights. "This is it. Welcome to Dule Manor. I hope you'll be comfortable here. Like the ring, the house isn't new."

"Freaking heck. Is this all yours?" Dixon whistled as he peered out of the windows.

"Yes. I moved in here after the explosion," Benedict said.

"You don't like cats?" Dixon must've picked up his tension as he pointed at the two large statues guarding the stone steps. "I would've thought a place this size would've at least sported a couple of lions guarding the door."

"I've always been a dog person." Jarvis had come around and opened the door on Benedict's side. "Come on, my mate, let's get you inside and you can explore to your heart's content."

"You could've had stone bears," Dixon teased as he climbed out of the car after Benedict. "I'm just saying, bears would've worked, too."

"There are countless tales of hounds that roam the moors in this area," Benedict said, leading the way up the steps, slowing so Dixon could get a closer look at the statues. "Unfortunately, bears running amuck are not talked about as much."

"After this visit, they might be."

Benedict was going to take that as the promise Dixon intended. Catching his mate's hand, enjoying the warmth of the gold in the ring, he smiled at the woman standing just inside the open door. "Mrs. Porter, how have you been keeping? You don't look a day older, I swear. It's lovely to see you again. This is my Fated Mate, Dixon Cottle…"