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  If only ‘Sin Garu, that evil wretch of a sorcerer, had contented himself with the dark lands and left Tanselm alone. If only that scourge upon the living, the Netharat, could be killed as swiftly as they were created. If only, if only…

  He glared at the door from behind his desk and watched with dark satisfaction when it banged shut. Then, floating an empty glass from a nearby sink to his desk, he waved his hand over it and watched it fill with water, as pure and clear as Tanselm’s deepest wells.

  He sighed. That one of Tanselm’s great Storm Lords was now reduced to petty financial squabbles and immature spats with a woman didn’t bear dwelling upon. He tossed back his water and slammed his cup on the desk. He had more than a weekend’s worth of work due by ten Monday morning, and were it not for his mission to find a bride from this magic-forsaken land and return home to fight for his world, he’d quit this place and everyone in it.

  Unfortunately, he had to admit this position placed him in an ideal circumstance to find a suitable bride for a man of his status. His brothers might be content searching for a heartmate in a bar, but Marcus had higher standards. Darius had gotten lucky with Samantha. It was doubtful Cadmus, assuming Darius’ role as a bartender, would find himself similarly blessed.

  No, Marcus needed to wait it out in this mundane realm, servicing the rich and prosperous. Sooner or later he’d find a woman to serve as his affai, his intended bride. Until then, he’d continue to apply the persuasive strategies he’d learned as a boy, focusing on the here and now.

  But much as he tried to ignore it, his heart still yearned. What he wouldn’t give to hear someone from the royal kingdom once again have need of the River Prince.

  * * * *

  Tessa slammed into her apartment, threw her keys at the hall table, and huffed into the nearest overstuffed chair, cursing Marcus Storm to everlasting celibate hell.

  The minute she’d walked out his office door, she’d come up with several more satisfying rejoinders aimed at his shortcomings as a project manager, as a man, and as a human being in general.

  Her little goad about the proposed cutbacks becoming a reality, in retrospect, wasn’t as gratifying as slurs on his character and his abilities as a lover would have been.

  Her face heated, recalling his skilful mouth and persuasive tongue. Damn it all! She’d been having such a nice Friday too.

  She smouldered as she sat in her favourite chair, waiting for the soft leather and deep cushions to soak away the tension. Resting her head back, she closed her eyes and after several deep, measuring breaths, slowly began to relax. Her parched throat demanded something cool to drink, but she felt too comfortable to get up.

  Peace and quiet replaced the stress that had hounded her all week, and as weariness invaded her limbs, she began to drift into a light doze.

  Without warning, something ice cold and wet nudged her hand, and she shot out of the chair in a shriek. Tumbling backward, she managed to land less than gracefully on the floor.

  Her heart racing, she shoved her hair out of her eyes and stared around for the source of her surprise. Anxiety mounted until she noted the water bottle dripping with condensation to her immediate left, floating in the air!

  “Not again,” she groaned, grudgingly accepting what her subconscious had ferreted from the refrigerator. Grabbing the bottle, she gingerly regained her feet and trudged to the couch. Telekinesis was such a pain in the ass. Literally, she thought as she rubbed her posterior.

  At least her short bout with pyrokinesis hadn’t returned. Since Charles Johnson had left the company, she hadn’t experienced any more repeats of setting her sheets on fire. Now, however, an apparent telekinetic resided at Tomanna Consulting, either that or elderly Mrs. Morris next door had a sudden gift for moving things with her mind.

  For as long as she could remember, Tessa had been gifted with strange and unexpected extrasensory perception. To this day she still wasn’t sure how she could do what she did, but concluded she possessed an unusual ability to ‘siphon’ the latent ESP from those gifted around her. Unfortunately, as she’d matured, her powers strengthened, as did the hit-or-miss control that accompanied them.

  She wished she knew what triggered the siphoning. Johnson, the pyro, had been at the company for three months before her bouts with fire had started. And as soon as he’d transferred, her pyrokinesis had vanished.

  Since no one had moved into her direct neighbourhood within the last six months, her abilities had to come from someone at work, where she spent the majority of her time. She’d found, over the years, that close proximity to the ‘target’ helped her to control the powers, and at times, call upon them at will.

  But with the amount of personnel changes, her target could be anyone. Hell, it could even be Marcus Storm.

  Reminders of the arrogant Lothario made her body tingle. She’d known at first sight he’d be dangerous. Hell, he’d made her body sing on a whisper of breath.

  Sensuality flooded her veins, washing her in the ecstatic sensations he’d stirred earlier. No doubt about it, he was a jerk. But for a few moments she’d forgotten his attitude and indulged in something very bad for her. And it had felt so very, very good.

  Sighing, she took a large swig of water and realised how desperate she was to desire a man as cold as Marcus Storm. The foreplay with Storm and the nonexistent sex with Davis notwithstanding, she couldn’t recall the last meaningful, intimate interaction she’d had with a man. Could she be any more pathetic?

  The phone rang, startling her out of her reverie.

  She stared across the room at the telephone. Chances were she had not won Publisher’s Clearinghouse, so why answer? Why cap off a less than perfect day with more bad news?

  “Tessa? You’d better pick up,” her brother’s deep voice persuaded over the answering machine. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you today, and I have a bad feeling trouble’s just around the corner.”

  She let out a loud curse and crossed to the kitchen to grab the phone. When the clairvoyant in the family had a bad feeling, worse would surely follow.

  “Lay it on me, Tom,” she muttered with feeling. “But be gentle. I’ve had a long day.”

  “Sorry, Sis, but it’s about to get longer.”

  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’ wi
fe 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 hot-headed 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 mouth-watering 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 Western Kingdom.

  “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.”