“Your mother,” Faustus paused and his eyes twinkled, “that woman could get me to do anything she pleased. Had me wrapped around her little finger.”
Marcus nodded, happy memories chasing the sadness of his father’s passing.
“She always made me see the other side of things, brought me back when anger overcame good sense, pushed me to act when I felt indecisive.”
Marcus blinked. “Indecisive? Angry? You were perfect, Father, the epitome of the Storm Lords at their very best.” And the standard by which Marcus lived his life.
“No, son. You see through the eyes of a child.” Faustus shook his head, a spray of water refreshing nearby dragonflies. “You spent much of your boyhood with me, too much, I think. Even Aerolus lost himself in the woods rather than sit inside a stuffy court hall during penitence day. But not you.”
“I had to watch and learn,” Marcus defended himself. “So much to learn before training began.”
“You always were too serious. Now Cadmus, that boy has a sense of humour.”
Marcus rolled his eyes and watched as a screaming eagle captured a struggling eel from the water. “Cadmus is an idiot.”
“But a funny idiot.”
Marcus couldn’t help the smile curling his lips. “True. Maybe you should be having this father/son talk with Aerolus. He’s the one with all the serious issues lately.” He flicked a hand and watched as a mini-whirlpool tried to suck his father closer. “I’m fine.”
Faustus’ grey eyes sparkled as he pushed the water away with a sweep of wind. The whirlpool died, and he left the river, beads of moisture wicked away by the gentle air he commanded to dry himself.
He sat again next to Marcus, a casual purple tunic and trousers suddenly appearing over his frame. “You always seemed the most competent of your brothers,” Faustus said slowly, his tone warning Marcus to pay attention.
Sitting up off the grass, he turned to face his father, watching the sun play over his beloved face.
“Yet your mother would constantly remind me to watch out for you, that beyond your arrogance lay a well of insecurity.” His narrowed gaze burned a hole through Marcus’ defences.
“Come on, Father,” he tried to joke the matter aside. “I am the River Prince,” he said haughtily, his conceit eerily mirroring that of his father’s. “The wells of Tanselm shimmer at my call.”
“You command water. But you cannot command your heart. It commands you.” He gave his son a sly smile and shook his head. “She won’t let you rule her, Marcus. But she’ll let you rule by her.” Laughing silver eyes hardened into molten steel, and the jovial man who was his father became the stern taskmaster of the WesternKingdom once more. “And until you learn to temper your unfounded need for perfection, you will fall short when it comes to guarding that which you hold most dear.”
Marcus felt his entire being flinch, yet showed no outward reaction to his father’s words but a slight nod.
Faustus shook his head, frustrated, and Marcus wished he knew what to say to ease his father’s burden. “Heed my words, Marcus. The river flows and bends, it does not break. But pride is like ice and cannot pass obstructions, rather it shatters when it meets resistance.”
Marcus’ head began to ache. “Allegories and riddles, Father? You used to speak plainly.” When you were alive. The thought sobered him.
Faustus laughed. “Don’t I know it. Irritating as hell, eh? Sorry, but that’s the price I pay for crossing the Light to see you. Just make sure to believe in your heart, in yourself, and all will be well.”
The sun brightened and Marcus had to shield his eyes not to be blinded.
“I guess my time’s up,” Faustus murmured and stood, casting a large shadow by Marcus’ feet. “Remember, son, the surest way to a woman’s heart is truth, and the surest way to your truth is a woman’s heart.” He chuckled. “Make sure you tell that to Aerolus when his time comes. He’s become too much of a know-it-all under Arim’s influence.”
Marcus tried to see his father’s expression but couldn’t look at more than his father’s shadow, which lengthened under the brightness growing above them.
“I’m sorry to say this is the last I’ll be seeing you for a long time, Son.” Faustus blew a breath of wind over Marcus, drying him off, and in that breath was a reminder of the deep love his father felt for him.
“Remember, you are as you believe.” Faustus paused and his shadow flickered. “Tell Cadmus to look at his dreams, and Aerolus to study the spaces between,” he said quickly. “He’ll know what I mean.” His shadow vanished, then reappeared, a faint smudge upon the grass. “Damn it, see here?” he growled. “I barely said anything and I’ve said too much. Hell, just tell Arim she’s waiting—”
The light flashed, bursting like an explosion and the shock of power shook Marcus awake. He blinked and tried to make sense of his body’s odd state of awareness. Something tickled his legs, then between them, massaging his cock into a restless, aroused twitch.
“Wake up, Marcus,” Tessa teased and kissed her way up his body, throwing his dream into another corner of his mind altogether. Trying to catch his breath, he groaned her name as she slithered on top of him, lost in the heat and feel of her, his father’s words a distant memory.
Chapter Eight
While Tessa let the warmth of the shower soothe her, she tried to reconcile her unbelievable actions with the woman she used to be.
She knew Marcus Storm’s body more intimately than she’d known any man’s. And the things he’d made her feel…she shuddered, glad she was alone where she could deal with all that had happened over the past weekend.
The water sluiced over her body, taking with it her aches and pains from the sexual acrobatics she’d engaged in throughout the night.
Marcus would be lucky to stay awake through this morning’s meeting.
She frowned, wishing she’d gone with him. But they’d both agreed last night that she should stay here where it was safe, both from a wraith attack and from the nameless threat at work, at least until Marcus could gauge what the office was like today.
She didn’t fear the Netharat, oddly enough. The attack still seemed like a dream, one she had pushed to the far corner of her mind. Besides which, she’d found a surprising range of control over her newfound telepathy, and Marcus had cast some spell over her, with the help of Aerolus, to protect her from ‘otherworldly’ harm.
No, she dreaded the legal ramifications of her manufactured guilt in this world. Embezzlement, fraud—what exactly would she be charged with, and how had whoever was doing this set her up?
Finishing the shower that no longer felt relaxing the more she dwelled on her career, she changed into a pair of jeans and the loose sweatshirt she’d packed and retrieved late last night from her home. She’d been tempted to try teleporting there, but one glance from Marcus had her rethinking the idea.
Come to think of it, he’d never apologised or explained for being such a jerk, she thought, recalling his obnoxious attitude after she’d teleported yesterday. She’d been too occupied with his body last night, and Arim’s surprise visit had distracted her when she’d been good and mad at Cool Blue.
She grinned at the nickname, now so unsuitable to the insatiable sex addict she’d created in the new and improved Marcus Storm. He said he couldn’t get enough of her, and the way he touched her and reacted to her touch, she believed him.