by Marie Harte
Nothing about the perusal was sexual, yet Tessa still had the feeling she’d been most thoroughly examined. Arim’s gaze made her feel like a woman first and foremost. And damn, did every male from Tanselm have the ability to make a woman salivate?
Arim, the mightiest sorcerer in all the land, according to Cadmus’ whispered side note, sat across from her on a leather recliner, just sitting and staring as if she were a school science project.
She stared back, startled to note that he looked at her with the same expression Marcus normally used at the office. A rosy blush settled over her face despite her attempt to appear unfazed by the powerful sorcerer, and she glared at him when a smile hinted at his hard lips.
“So you’re a siphon,” he said and nodded, as if the concept made perfect sense to him. He knew of her ability? It had a name? “Yes, I’m aware of the ability, rare though it is. And what an odd coincidence you knew its name.”
She blinked. Had he just read her mind?
“Yes, I did. But as spellcasters consider it a trespass, I shall try to refrain from doing so again. Wouldn’t want to get the River Prince in a tizzy.”
His fathomless black eyes crinkled, and though he didn’t outwardly grin, she knew he was laughing on the inside.
“River Prince?”
“Marcus,” he clarified. “Commander of the waters, bringer of life. He shall rule the south once he finds what he seeks.”
“And what would that be?”
“Marcus, glad you’re back,” Cadmus said loudly, interrupting the conversation. “Arim and Tessa were just getting acquainted.”
Arim turned his amusement towards Marcus, affording Tessa a chance to study him better. As she watched the dark-eyed sorcerer, she found it unnerving how much he reminded her of Marcus. Same piercing stare, same arrogant mannerisms, same aristocratic features and olive-hued skin. Incredibly, Arim stood a head taller than the Storm brothers. Yet it wasn’t his height so much as his presence that threatened.
“Arim,” Marcus said, breaking her introspection. She watched the two clench forearms in lieu of a handshake. Arim murmured about Darius and Samantha, presumably the missing brother and his wife.
She continued her perusal, staring at Marcus far more than she liked but unable to stop herself. Because she couldn’t stop staring at the blue-eyed jerk, she’d only half-heard his conversation when the word ‘affai’ perked her interest.
“What did you say?”
Arim looked over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to exclude you, Tessa. I was merely informing Marcus and his brothers about Darius and his affai, Samantha.”
Samantha had married Darius, that Tessa knew. So Samantha was his wife, his love. His affai? But Marcus had called Tessa his affai. After making love, he’d hugged her close and nuzzled her cheek, whispering lovely words in that foreign, lyrical language. Affai…what did it mean?
Sweetheart, probably. Then what did sertia mean? She desperately wanted to ask, but the unnerving stares from the Storm brothers made her hesitate.
“Something on your mind, Tessa?” Aerolus asked casually and glanced at Marcus, who stared at her with a hunger in his eyes. Too bad that hunger hadn’t precluded his obnoxious attitude earlier.
What the hell? If her question made him uncomfortable, so be it. She was already uncomfortable after nearly blasting his friend with God-knew whose powers. “As a matter of fact,” she began slowly, her eyes fixed on Marcus’ too-calm face. “I was wondering if you could translate a few words for me.” Alarm replaced Marcus’ composed demeanour.
“Ask away,” Arim answered with dancing eyes.
“What does sertia mean?”
“Sertia?” Cadmus repeated with surprise. “It’s a compliment. Roughly translated, it means ‘comely lover’.” A dimple appeared on his left cheek. “It’s usually used in context with a woman, a very sexy, thoroughly entrancing woman,” he murmured as he studied her with humoured, bedroom eyes.
Marcus frowned. “Relax, Cadmus,” he bit with disdain. “I swear you’re in heat.”
Aerolus coughed to hide his amusement but Arim seemed glued to the byplay, his attention on Marcus an almost tangible thing.
“Comely lover? I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.” She smiled sweetly as Marcus narrowed his eyes. “Then what does affai mean? Sweetcakes? Honeybunch?” she teased, hoping to put an end to her buzzing curiosity about the matter.
“It means bride of the Royal Four,” Aerolus said quietly.
“Which is what Samantha is to Darius,” Marcus added after a beat.
“But that’s what you called me,” she blurted, astounded by the translation. She could have kicked herself for saying so when four pairs of powerful eyes settled on her, one in shock, two in surprised amusement, and one in extreme satisfaction.
* * * *
“So you say the River Prince is taken with the fiery-haired female?”
The wraith nodded, fear oozing out of its every last pore. ‘Sin Garu was not happy, and had no compunction taking his displeasure out on those undeserving. “Truly, lord. I managed a glimpse of the River Prince protecting the female during the fight before you called me back, else I’d have stayed to save the others.”
‘Sin Garu stroked his thin lower lip, idly creasing the red flesh with a long, sharpened nail. The wraith couldn’t stop staring in helpless fascination. Much like those they prayed upon, his master had the pure skin and perfect features of a powerful sorcerer.
Long, lustrous blond hair shone in the dim light of his chambers, vying for attention with the sparkling flame of candlelight in the corner. The wraith absently ran a claw over its lumpy skull.
“This is good news, Caeth,” Garu murmured. “Very good.” He smiled, a gift of sharp white teeth that put Caeth’s blackened grin to shame. “I can almost forgive your brethrens’ failed attempt on the first affai, the mate of that enraged fire breather.” He pursed his lips. “A waste of anger on that one. She looked quite tasty, but what’s done is done.”
He sighed and ran his hands over the marble tabletop upon which his attention was concentrated. Caeth, gauging his master’s mood, took a closer step and noted the vision swirling under his master’s gaze. A small sheet of murky water lay pooled on the tabletop. And every now and again, a hint of candlelight illuminated the image of a pale woman with lustrous red hair and bright blue eyes. Caeth thought she appeared tasty indeed, and salivated at the idea of biting into such tender flesh.
“Not until I’ve had my fill.” ‘Sin Garu read his thoughts easily, a soft note of apology making him seem a noble taskmaster, and not the evil feeder of souls Caeth knew him to be.
Again, Caeth was taken aback that a man so pure in looks and so calm in spirit could house such darkness. Never before had his kind encountered a man like ‘Sin Garu, and he still had trouble understanding exactly how the man had made his alliances.
Always hungry, wraiths categorized everything in terms of sustenance. One bite could paralyse their prey with pain, offering a tasty treat in terms of hot blood and bone, and the precious struggle to survive. Only the Djinn had the magical wherewithal to completely withstand a wraith bite. All other members of the sorcerer’s guild and non-gifted that lived in Tanselm fell prey to wraith toxins within mere moments of being bitten, survival dependent upon individual strength of the victim.
‘Sin Garu, however, had withstood several wraith bites and inflicted his own damage, ensuring he would be heard by the wraith king. Since then, wraiths were forced to abide his command. Four rulers in all, over a twenty-year period, had risen and fallen on ‘Sin Garu’s word.
Caeth stared with glowing worship. ‘Sin Garu had the beauty, the control and the power of a true dark leader. And since promoting Caeth to Liaison upon Mirego’s death a month earlier, the sorcerer could do no wrong in the wraith’s eyes.
‘Sin Garu turned from the table he watched and winked at Caeth. “I do love you so,” he promised and laid a gentle kiss on Caeth’s uneven forehea
d. “It’s as if you were created just for me.”
Caeth’s heartbeat jumped, and a new, altogether unpleasant hunger pestered. Sexual urges were uncomfortable and unwelcome, a ravenous desire that made the ache in his belly throb like an infection.
“That’s right, Caeth.” ‘Sin Garu laughed, a musical sound that made Caeth want to weep with joy. “You’ll soon sate your appetite. Find me our contact in the new world and bring the Djinn here to me with all haste. Our answers lie in the little schemer’s blood.”
Caeth nodded and bowed, and scurried off to do ‘Sin Garu’s bidding.
The sorcerer watched with slitted eyes, pleased with Mirego’s replacement. Fawning and the inability to think past a given order were worth far more than an intelligent lackey. Mirego had tried to lure Prince Darius’ mate and instead lost her to the Tetrarch, giving the Storm Lords another advantage they didn’t need. Caeth would not make the same mistake.
No, this wraith was in too much awe and fear of the great ‘Sin Garu. With a soft chuckle, he gathered his thoughts on the woman’s face in the scrying stone.
Unlike the first royal affai, this one had not yet committed herself to her prince. He studied her picture, a stirring of lust surprising him into looking deeper. Dark auburn hair and bright blue eyes made him think of his mother’s relatives on the southern portion of the island. And Tessa Sheridan’s ability to draw on another’s power was an invaluable piece of skill he could put to good use destroying the Storm Lords.
He smiled, a sincere expression of delight. Thoughts of ridding his world of the Storm Lords for good, of returning Tanselm to its rightful owners, made him want to shout with joy. For too long the true natives of Tanselm lived in the dark, scurrying like rats in festering filth. The Netharat, his personal creation, an army of wraiths, ice demons and the Shadren, had made a lasting impression on the conceited lords and ladies of Tanselm at their last meeting.
But he knew the royal usurpers needed more. They needed to learn what it felt like to live day in and day out in waste and decay, to experience life between the light, to know how it felt to be ripped of one’s heritage and channelled into forgetfulness simply because you weren’t born at the right time with the right brethren.
His temper simmered as he glared at an image of the River Prince’s new lady. Tessa Sheridan. She would help him make the Storm Lords pay. This time, he wouldn’t fail. Prince Marcus and the others would watch firsthand as their lands, and their supposed affai, fell to him, ‘Sin Garu, last of the Nostren elite.
Chapter Seven
“Excuse me?” Marcus stared at Tessa as if she’d lost her mind.
“What I meant was,” she paused, knowing she’d said what she meant. But as her confusion turned to understanding, panic set in. Why had Marcus referred to her as his affai—his damned bride, and why the hell had she blurted something so personal in front of his brothers and Arim, for God’s sake?
“Yes?” Cadmus asked with a wide grin.
“Please, go on,” Arim encouraged. His face bore no expression but his eyes were dancing with merriment.
“I meant to say, Marcus mentioned Darius and Samantha’s tie earlier and I had wanted to ask him what ‘affai’ actually meant.”
“So now you know,” Aerolus said plainly.
“Yep, now I know.” Her stomach grumbled, and she wished she had a piece of food stuffed in her mouth so she wouldn’t have to talk anymore.
A few seconds later a banana flew through the door nearly taking Cadmus’ ear off before landing in her hands. She flushed and hurriedly peeled the fruit, shoving it into her mouth, so as to make conversation impossible.
“If you’ll excuse us?” Marcus said to the others as he grabbed her by the arm quite forcefully. “We have some business matters to discuss.”
Tessa stared at him in confusion with a banana stuffed in her cheek, making her feel like a squirrel.
“The threat to have you fired,” Marcus reminded as she watched the others leave his room ever so slowly.
The minute the door closed, leaving the two of them alone, Marcus dropped her arm like a hot poker. He turned to her with a chilly frown. But as he stared at her, a genuine smile worked its way across his face. Then suddenly he was laughing, great loud chuckles straight from his gut.
Entranced, she soon grew annoyed as it became apparent she was the source of his amusement.
“Care to share?” she asked around the food.
“I’ve never seen a woman eat a banana with less finesse,” he paused and began laughing again. “You look like a, what do you call it? A chipmunk.”
“Oh?” she said frostily after she swallowed. “You often watch women perform with fruit?”
At her tone, his chuckles burst into greater gales.
She wanted to remain angry, but the sight of Marcus letting his reserve go made her heart leap. He seemed so approachable now, so close to touch.
Unconsciously, she neared, staring at him like he was a drink of cold water in a wasteland of desert.
He saw her look of intent and stopped laughing, his ocean blue eyes swirling into storm, mirroring her need. “We have things to talk about,” he said and took a step closer, bridging the distance between them.
“I know.”
“There’s more you should know. Things to plan.” He pulled her into his arms, his gaze locked on her mouth.
Her mouth dry, she licked her lips and heard him groan.
“Later.” He sealed her mouth with his.
As if they hadn’t come together just last night, or even this morning, Tessa’s body lit just for him. Lust surged and pooled between her thighs, and memories from their previous lovemaking peaked her desire even higher.
His hands touched her everywhere, soft and hard, urgent, yet so sensual she wanted to melt at his feet. Within moments he had her divested of all clothing, his hands stirring her arousal. His long fingers lingered over her chest, making her breasts swollen and heavy, needing more of his touch.
Lowering, he kissed her nipples, each tenderly, then more forcefully, as he suckled her, wringing from her an unwilling moan of surrender.
“Yes, sertia,” he murmured, his mouth working magic against her sensitive nipples while one hand circled lower. His fingers parted and entered her wet heat, sliding between her lips and plunging into her vagina with a suddenness that shocked her into near climax.
“No, sweet,” he breathed as he slid slowly in and out of her, adding another finger. “Let’s make it last.”
He laid her across his bed and stared down at her as he removed his clothing. She couldn’t help sighing at his perfection. Before they’d been too rushed for her to fully appreciate his physique, but now, under the light of day, she caught an eyeful.
She’d always loved a strong upper body on a man, and Marcus made her stomach do flip-flops. He had a hard eight-pack, forget the six, and the thin stream of silky black hair that lined his sculpted chest and disappeared below his jeans made her want to trail the path with her tongue.
His eyes smoldered as he watched her watching him, and knowing she could affect him with just a look had her drowning in desire.
“I’m going to take this slowly,” he promised and stepped out of his jeans.
She swallowed audibly. His erection was strong, thick and impossible to miss. He stood before her, hungry yet cool, making her itch to shake his unruffled composure.
“How do you do it, Marcus?” she asked, her voice husky. She rose to her knees and saw his eyes darken as they fell to her full breasts. She leant forward and placed a soft kiss on his chest, encouraged at the subtle breath he took. “You’re so together, when all I can think about is kissing you.”
She licked the spot and kissed him lower, just above his navel. “Tasting you.”
His hands fisted at his sides, and when she glanced up she noted his jaw was clenched. “Such composure,” she murmured with a sly grin. “How you can be so calm when I can’t stop my heart from racing. All I think about
is what you’ll taste like when I kiss you there.” She looked down at his bobbing erection and thought she heard him groan. But when she looked up at him, his gaze was impassive.
“Do it,” he dared, a tight smile grazing his lips.
“Oh, I will, lover,” she replied saucily before lowering her mouth. She grasped his thighs to steady herself and immediately his stance widened, his tight muscles bunching under her hands.
She stroked his legs softly and breathed over the head of his cock, more than aware of the moisture coating his tip. Power thrived within her, a feminine energy growing with every beat of her heart.
Lowering her lips to his shaft, she sucked lightly, growing wetter as she absorbed his shattered reaction.
“Tessa, baby,” he rasped, pushing against her lips. “That feels so good. Yes, sertia, more,” he pleaded and groaned when her tongue stroked the underside of his shaft.
Tessa loved it. He was steaming, pure desire rolling off him in waves, lapping into her as if the two of them were one. She revelled in his scent and taste, and wanting to pleasure him, she took him deeper in her mouth.
With long, slow strokes, she worked him with her tongue, promising relief before easing the pressure off his shaft. She bobbed over him, letting the natural rhythm of lovemaking take over as she imagined riding him, not with her mouth, but with her body.
She was so wet, so on fire for him, her body melting at thoughts of him coming in her mouth. Just knowing she could bring him to such a state was as much a turn-on as the actual event.
He sighed her name and ran his fingers through her hair, tugging her closer when she tried to tease him again.
“Tessa, I wanted this to last.” He tried to sound stern, but the utterly enraptured look in her eyes must have been his undoing.
She withdrew from his cock and kissed the crown, making him shudder. “Oh, it’s going to last,” she promised, sliding her tongue along his pulsing flesh. “After you come in my mouth,” she whispered and breathed on him, watching him all the while, “you’re going to come inside me. We have the whole day ahead of us.”