“Aerolus’ meetings? He dabbles in sorcery, and now he thinks he’s in charge?”
“Well, why shouldn’t he be in charge? What is it with you and Darius, anyway?” Cadmus scowled, mentioning their absent and newly married brother. “He thinks he’s in charge because he’s the oldest, and now that he’s gone, you’re falling into the same line. Hell, Marcus, need I remind you we’re quadruplets, identical quadruplets?” His burning brown eyes sparked with irritation.
Marcus cocked his right brow, further aggravating Cadmus, as he’d intended. As Cadmus glowered, Marcus felt the morning’s misery fade under grudging amusement. “Quadruplets, yes, but not quite identical. Those muddy brown eyes of yours won’t guarantee you a quality affai.”
Cadmus snorted. “By ‘quality affai’ you mean ‘wealthy bride’. You’re such a snob, Marc.” He grinned nastily at the face Marcus made. Damn, but Marcus hated the informal, shortened use of his name. And he had Darius’ wife Samantha to thank for that. Wonderful woman.
“But you’re wrong about, and I quote, my ‘gorgeous, rich chocolate-brown eyes’, Marc,” Cadmus continued. “Working at the bar has put me in contact with hundreds of women.”
“All too drunk to know their left from their right.”
“Some, yeah, but not all.” Cadmus paused and Marcus had the odd suspicion Cadmus was focused on a specific woman. Then a sudden image of Tessa Sheridan flashed through Marcus’ mind, blurring all thoughts of teasing.
“Women are nothing but trouble,” he said coolly, purposefully steeling his reaction to the fiery redhead. “It’s because of them we’re still here. If Arim would allow us home without having to find a miserable bride, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Instead we’d be sending the Netharat back into hell where they belong.”
“Until ‘Sin Garu showed. Then we’d be fighting a losing battle. Until we reestablish the royal line, we’re stuck here, brother mine.”
Marcus scowled. He hated the reminder that without an affai he was stuck in this mundane realm. More and more lately he’d been itching to revisit Tanselm. Since Darius had returned home, Marcus’ longing for all they’d left behind had only increased. And his frustrating bouts with Tessa furthered his aggravation. It was as if he needed something just out of reach.
“Don’t tell me. It’s a woman.” Cadmus stared at Marcus with eerie perception. “I may not have Darius’ telepathy, but I know woman problems.” He grinned, a familiar dimple on his left cheek. “I’m a bartender, remember? I study human nature for a living.”
“Very funny.” Marcus swallowed a hot mouthful of coffee and fought not to show the burn. He failed and glared at Cadmus, who didn’t even try to hide his laughter. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh?”
“The woman bothers the hell out of me. It’s nothing more personal than that.”
“So she’s not attractive?”
Marcus frowned. “I didn’t say that.” No, Tessa was downright gorgeous. “My point is there’s nothing between us but work.” Except the way my blood rushes every time I see her. And that mouthwatering foreplay last night…
“Right.”
Apparently his blasé attitude wasn’t convincing Cadmus either.
“Look, Cadmus. The woman is earthbound. She couldn’t possibly handle the power within me.”
“That’s just what Darius thought about Samantha.”
Marcus’ foul mood returned with a vengeance. He wanted a bride as much as he wanted to rule one of the kingdoms—not at all. And neither bride nor kingdom would make him prince enough to fill his father’s shoes.
He gritted his teeth, energy sizzling within him at the effort not to throw Cadmus bodily out the door. “I am done having this conversation.”
Cadmus stood from the bed and made a regal bow, his mouth curled with laughter. “As you command, my liege,” he said. “Man, you do the royalty bit better than any of us. Of course, you were born with the royal stick up your ass, so it makes sense.”
At the end of his tether and feeling more like his hotheaded brother, Darius, than ever, Marcus released the dam on his powers and literally threw his brother out the door without batting an eye. He added insult to injury by smirking as he slammed the door shut in Cadmus’ face to stop the retribution sure to follow.
Foul curses rent the air beyond his room, music to his ears, as Marcus drank the rest of his coffee. His belly pleasantly warmed, he leant back and closed his eyes, restful now that he’d unburdened some frustration on his more-than-deserving sibling.
With a weary sigh, he wondered how long he could delay leaving his bed before worries about work caught up with him. He couldn’t help it. Normally, if he thought about work, he could hold his anxiety for Tanselm at bay. Yet work, right now, bothered him almost as much as Tanselm’s uncertain future. Every time he thought about Tomanna Consulting, he envisioned Tessa and her mouthwatering sensuality.
His body tensed, and he forced his fists to unclench. He needed a respite from the stresses in his life. And if he couldn’t find a break in his own bedroom, he was surely doomed. Closing his eyes and deliberately slowing his breathing, he repeated the lessons of inner peace taught to him by his father so many years ago and gave way to the dreamlessness of sleep—at first.
“You’re doing well, Son,” King Faustus said as he slapped Marcus on the back with a mighty blow strong enough to fell a tree. Marcus refused to flinch and his father laughed, likely pleased to see his son standing tall after so many years of conditioning.
Marcus stared in confusion at his father and himself, both clad in their royal finery as they stood in a hazy hallway reminiscent of the princes’ wing in the palace of the WesternKingdom.
“Father?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t keep you long. I know you’ve got company coming.” His father winked and nodded knowingly to the royal bathing suite concealed behind a large blue door.
“Where did Seattle go? Am I really home? And what are you doing here?”
“Tsk, tsk. Always the worrier. Enjoy the moment, boy. Live a little.”
“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Sadly, he had to be. His father had died over a year ago, under ‘Sin Garu’s treacherous hands.
“If you say so.” His father stopped and looked at the door. The muffled sound of feminine laughter and water splashing teased the silence. “But it’s not a bad dream, is it?”
“No.” Marcus stood uncomfortably, aware he wasn’t saying the right things, behaving as befitted a prince. He hated that he sounded so unsure.
Faustus sighed, and Marcus wanted to sigh as well, at his own shortcomings. “Boy, you need to stop thinking so damned much and live. This job you’re working is only a means to an end.” His father nodded to the door. “To an end,” he repeated with emphasis.
“But I don’t—”
“You will.” His father grabbed him by the arm and gathered a swift wind to carry them both to the doorway. “You’re not a windwalker like me, Son. You’re a waterglider like your Uncle Tridon.” He nodded to the door. “Now show her some smooth moves and work your magic.” His father’s laughing grey eyes sobered. “Time is running out.”
So saying, his father blew him through the door. The moment Marcus entered, the door behind him vanished, leaving him in a room with no doors or windows, nothing to mar the monochromatic, pale blue walls and tiled floor save the large, clear pool before him and the vision that dwelled within.
“What are you waiting for, Marcus?” Tessa Sheridan asked in a naughty voice. She leant back against the wall of the massive bathing pool, one large enough to fit several dozen people quite comfortably. Her arms were outstretched along the ledge, her breasts clearly visible, swaying in the waves of the water.