Below the Surface

Chapter Two

Marcus groaned as the sun hit him right between the eyes. He’d been hoping to sleep in this morning, having worked another late night into the early a.m.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” a wry masculine voice chided. “I even brought you a cup of coffee.”

“That’s the only thing saving your annoying ass, Cadmus,” Marcus muttered as he opened his eyes. He sat up and grabbed the coffee with an irritated curse.

“Touchy.” Cadmus grinned, his identical features buoyant, in stern contrast to the scowl darkening Marcus’ face. “Just wanted to check on you. Aerolus and I are concerned about the long hours you’ve been putting in at work.” Cadmus took a sip of his own coffee and frowned. “What’s so important at your play job that you’ve twice missed Aerolus’ meetings?”

“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.

She had piled her hair on top of her head in a loose knot, exposing a graceful length of creamy white neck. Her face glowed with a sensual energy, and a hunger for him and him alone.

Marcus could only blink in shock. First his father and now Tessa? Talk about ‘too good to be true’. Not about to waste any more time gawking, he gave her a seductive smile and slid into the water, his clothes disappearing like magic.

He stroked towards her without thought, at home in the water as he was nowhere else. With a surety that slid through his body like song, he swam fluidly, at one with his element. He was at Tessa’s side in an instant.

“I’ve been waiting.” She pouted, her full lips drawn in a poised frown.

“Too long,” he agreed. Reaching out, he fondled her bare breast, his hand curling around her flesh like the water that so lovingly embraced her.

She gasped and threw her head back, and he covered her like an all-encompassing wave. His mouth found hers with ease, slipping into her moist warmth with welcomed acceptance. Her tongue teased his, battled for mastery and gracefully conceded to his strength.

He couldn’t keep from groaning at how perfect she felt in his arms. Like the other day in his office, her curves rubbed him in all the right places. Her skin felt silky smooth under his touch. Her breasts and strong, smooth thighs swam against him with need, magnifying his lust.

His cock was full, painfully hard and near to bursting just from touching her. He could only imagine what loving her would be like.

She had long fingers, and she stroked him as if she knew just where to touch him. Ah, but it was his dream, he reminded himself, and with that in mind, he let down all his barriers.

Gone was the subtle charmer with the cool, blue stare. In his place churned a harsher, less patient lover. At another time he would indulge his fantasies and explore the woman who so fascinated him. But now he needed release, an escape from the stresses and the never-ending sexual ache that plagued him whenever she neared.

He caged her between his arms, his hands gripping the pool’s ledge. Pinning her against the wall of the pool, he shoved her legs apart under the water, engaging telepathy and his command of water to shape her body as he desired. The water held her limbs fast, her thighs outstretched, her arms imprisoned on either side of her body. Her helplessness further excited him at finally having the assertive woman under his control.

He saw her answering desire as his flesh grazed hers. Tessa’s need washed over him, inciting his lust even further. Without pause he surged deep inside her in one long, harsh breath. She gasped and tried to move, but his will held her still as he began thrusting inside her.

“More,” she panted, and he increased the pace. Her slick walls accommodated him with ease, and the more he pummelled, the hotter she grew. She writhed and moaned his name, seeming as eager to have him touch her as he was to feel her responses.

His hands roamed over her wet flesh, grazing her nipples and flicking them with his tongue as his cock delved into her sweet cream.

“Later, sertia,” he rasped as he thrust. “Later I’ll lap your honey with my tongue, and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll beg me to do it all over again. Anywhere, anyplace.”

She gasped and groaned his name as waves of passion crashed over her. Nodding helplessly, she gave something of herself to him when she opened her desire-glazed eyes. Awash in feminine energy that shimmered with power, Marcus could no longer hold onto his control.

Her pussy clenched and sucked him further into her core, and he plunged deeper and harder until his climax burst over him. Hot seed jetted from his cock, quickening through flesh and fluid to the pure heart of her energy.

On and on his orgasm rushed, making him lightheaded as her power washed over him. When she had drained him of his passion, he gazed down at her awestruck expression with a pleased one of his own.

Her full, parted lips reminded him of the danger-sweet cherries growing wild in Tanselm’s forests. Once past the spiny protective layer coating the fruit, the sweetness of the berry burst upon the tongue, leaving an unforgettable taste.

Running a finger over her petal-soft mouth, he watched with satisfaction as her pupils dilated, passion spiralling once again.

“You aren’t as immune to me as you’d like me to think,” he murmured, recalling the many instances at work when she’d avoided him.

“Maybe.” Her eyes locked on his, full of fiery desire and spirit that made him want to devour her whole. Incredibly, he felt aroused all over again. The water churned around him, responsive to his feelings.

“Tell me what you really want, Tessa.” He resumed thrusting inside her, slowly, as his cock hardened with each stroke deeper into her honeyed core.

She kissed his nipples as he thrust, her mouth exciting him into a frenzy of need. Her lips pulled and tugged, eating away at his control. Soft, silken limbs broke free from his will holding her tight, touching and tantalising until he felt his climax upon him.

“I want you, Marcus. The River Prince, king of my heart, lord of my soul, father of my sons—”

A bright light flashed, and Marcus sat up with a groan as he spilled into the satin sheets covering his bed. He shook as his orgasm consumed him, panting for breath as Tessa’s phantom eased his sexual needs. Staring around him with wide eyes, it took Marcus a moment to realise his time with Tessa had been nothing but a fantasy.

Catching his breath, he stared down at his messed sheets, wondering how in the hell this had happened. Sure, he’d been without a woman for a few weeks, but he’d been without one for longer and hadn’t exploded from a mere dream.

Frowning, he wondered just what had happened, and if his experience had been a dream, or something far more significant.

Tessa woke with her heart pounding and no idea why. She stared unseeingly at her white ceiling, counting the cracks around her light fixture until she could catch her breath. A glance at her alarm clock showed Saturday had arrived, the time and the sun’s rays attesting to the lateness of morning.

Instead of feeling rested, however, she felt shaky and a bit dizzy, and for the life of her she couldn’t recall what she’d been dreaming about.

After her whopper of a Friday, she’d retired to bed early, fantasising about making Marcus Storm look like the jerk he was in front of her company’s bevy of female clients.

Wearing a loincloth and nothing else, her eye-candy would apologise until he was hoarse, worshipping her with his eyes while steadfastly promising never again to sleep with his clients.

Tessa’s eyes widened as she remembered she’d accused the company’s wonder boy of doing just that, and for a moment she couldn’t think. The reality of yesterday hit her, and she slumped deeper into her bed.

After stirring her libido, Marcus Storm, seemingly unaffected by their encounter, had dashed her confidence to shreds by leaving her shaking like a leaf and bereft in front of his desk. Then he’d had the gall to accuse her of sleeping with Davis. As if she’d do anything that repulsive…

But hadn’t she accused him of something similar? her conscience asked. “But it was something I’d heard from almost everyone on his floor.” And since when do I listen to the company grapevine?

Shame flooded her and she knew the decent thing, no matter what a conceited ass Marcus Storm might be, would be to apologise for making such an accusation. He might be a jerk, but that didn’t mean she had to act like one. Tessa was a Sheridan. She had standards.

Making the decision to right the wrong she’d committed felt good, until she recalled part two of her disaster of a Friday. Her brother’s phone call had ended her less than perfect day perfectly.

Wanting to cry but unable to summon useless tears, she instead made plans to solve this latest dilemma. Though her life was taking a dramatic turn for the worse lately, she could only be glad for her family’s odd penchant for weirdness.

Without Tom’s precognitive abilities, she would certainly have walked into work on Monday completely unprepared for the charges of fraud and misappropriation of funds. Now that she knew what awaited her, she had only to find out who wanted to frame her and how they intended to do it in order to avoid jail time. Marcus Storm came to mind, yet she immediately rejected the idea of his complicity. No. Storm, though a ladies’ man, was an honest man. It couldn’t be him.

But hadn’t Tom experienced his premonition right after her altercation with Storm this afternoon? Almost to the exact minute when she’d locked lips with the handsome devil. Anxiety plagued her as she tried to figure who wanted her out of the company so badly. Twisting her hands under the covers, she reluctantly rose and began her chores, all the while thinking.

The remainder of her afternoon passed swiftly while she planned and plotted. Between dusting, laundry and general clean-up, she devised a thorough if shaky idea for discerning who might want to frame her. Unfortunately, she had come up with several people who might have designs on her job and reputation.

The hour grew later, and she forced herself to eat a hearty dinner, needing the energy. Tom might have been a bit more detailed with his bad news, she mentally grumbled, finishing dinner and then the dishes. She watched as the sky darkened from indigo to black, while the waning moon hid behind a thin blanket of clouds. And as she dressed in neat, black, close-fitting clothing, she tried to think on the bright side.

At least she now had plans for what would have been a boring, dateless Saturday night.