STORM LORDS: Below the Surface

MARCUS

I called myself five kinds of fool as I watched Tessa Sheridan’s perfect ass saunter out my door. Not being able to control my libido was not an excuse to bring the woman to near tears. Oh yes, she’d recovered more than admirably, but I’d seen the bright sheen in her eyes after my cutting remark about Davis, who was, by all accounts, a chauvinistic asshole. But hell, I’d been a hair’s breadth from fucking her on my desk.

I sat still and focused on my breathing, on an image of my mother, on anything to relax the burning ache between my legs. Tessa somehow always managed to stir me, though until now, I’d been able to conceal my response.

Since Jonas Chase had thrust her under my nose, things were quickly coming to a head.

I’d never before been so disrespectful and rude to a woman. That I did so now, to a coworker who had done nothing more than voice what my own secretary and half the floor thought true, was unforgivable.

Shame flooded me until I wanted to sink through the floor.

I shouldn’t have pushed her. But I hadn’t expected her, of all people, to believe the stupid rumors. Tessa Sheridan was a consummate professional and had a sterling reputation.

She never failed to solve any problem she encountered. And she was the only woman I’d ever met who avoided me like the plague, at least until last month. Before then, I’d vaguely sensed her presence, too inundated with work and the situation at home to take notice of the bossy redhead at the center of every man’s fantasy.

Instead, I’d focused on my tedious office work, unwilling to face the realization that Tanselm, my precious homeland, seemed so far out of reach. Had it only been a year since I’d been there? A year since I’d poured myself into a prince’s duties in the Royal House? Since I’d immersed myself in elemental magic and the natural beauty of Tanselm’s rich lakes and streams?

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…

I glared at the door from behind my desk and watched with grim satisfaction when it banged shut. Now in private, I floated an empty glass from a nearby sink to my desk. I waved my hand over it and watched it fill with water, as pure and clear as Tanselm’s deepest wells.

I sighed. That one of Tanselm’s great Storm Lords was now reduced to petty financial squabbles and immature spats with a human woman didn’t bear dwelling upon.

I tossed back my water and placed my glass on the desk with more force than finesse. I had more than a weekend’s worth of work due by Monday morning, and were it not for my mission to find a bride from this magic-forsaken land and return home to fight for my world, I’d quit this place and everyone in it.

Unfortunately, I had to admit this position placed me in an ideal circumstance to find a suitable bride for a man of my status. My brothers might be content searching for a heartmate in a bar, but I had higher standards.

Darius had gotten lucky with Samantha. It was doubtful Cadmus, assuming Darius’s role as a bartender, would find himself similarly blessed.

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

But as much as I tried to ignore it, my heart still yearned.

What I wouldn’t give to hear someone from the royal kingdom once again have need of the River Prince.