A woman appeared out of the trees in front of Marlow, carrying a large tome, and as if on cue, a burglar alarm blared through the quiet. As she stuttered to a stop in front of him, the startled expression that crossed her face and the way she tightened her hold on the book more than gave away that she was the cause of the alarm.
“Hold it right there,” Marlow said, jumping to his feet and flashing a brightly lit version of his badge with the thrust of his palm. The overlarge projection of a shield and pentagram hung in the air in brilliant blue before it fizzled.
He moved forward slowly, approaching her with outstretched hands, but she pivoted with him, her surprise fading to a confident smirk. She had long dark hair and a high-collared gown that screamed Victorian punk.
“Look, it’s been a long night,” Marlow tried, hands still raised in placation. “I’m not just any officer. I’m a Storm Mage. You can’t run. How about you put down what you stole and walk away, and I promise I won’t follow?”
She chuckled, glancing at the book she carried, which was impossibly thick and had a crest with an elegant sword impaling a dragon on the leather-bound cover. “This was stolen from my family first.”
“Then I’m sure the police can help you recover it—legally.”
She laughed again, while the alarm continued blaring in the distance. “I can’t involve them or risk this ending up in evidence. You should walk away, Storm Mage. Take your own advice, and we’ll forget all about this.”
Marlow readied himself to use a restraining spell against her. “I’ll ask again—”
“I hate to sideline you,” she interrupted. “I can tell you’re a good sort and mean well, but I don’t have time for this. I can’t have you tracking me later, either, so I’m afraid I’ll have to take you out of commission for a day or two. You understand.”
Marlow threw up his arms to cast Hold on her, but before he could complete the spell, her eyes lit up with a flash of violet fire, and suddenly, he couldn’t move.
He couldn’t even mutter Dispel.
Her dark hair rose as if a wind emitted from her body or she floated in the middle of the ocean, her eyes flashing brighter. “I see the truth of the unknown. Sight to see into the future or what people think they need to hide.”
Impossible. Divination and mind reading were lost magics only known in fairytales.
“So, tell me,” She moved closer to him, ethereal with how her hair floated above her shoulders, “what’s your deepest secret?”
Oh no. Marlow ached to move—groan, anything—because of course this was happening now. Of course, a rogue Mage in the middle of the park he’d just happened to stumble upon was looking into his mind tonight and learning that he was a hard-up, lonely virgin.
She grinned. “Now, honey, no need to be embarrassed. You’re a Storm Mage, one of the most powerful people on the planet—other than me. But if it means that much to you, how about you try things at a slower pace for a while, until you find someone worthy of taking that ‘burden’ from you?”
She snapped her fingers, and Marlow stumbled. He could move! He darted toward her—but almost instantly collapsed.
“Get laid, Marlow King,” her voice prompted him to look up. She’d backed away by the trees, and just before she turned and fled between them, she added, “Then you can have your magic back.”
“Wait!” Marlow chased after her, supernatural fatigue be damned, but by the time he burst through the trees on the other side of the park, she was gone. He huffed at how much that short sprint had winded him. One of the positives about having so much innate magic was increased stamina—clearly, given his boner problem—but now, he had none.
No stamina.
No magic.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Marlow searched the edges of the park for another twenty minutes, huffing all the while, but he found no trace of the rogue Mage. Eventually, he had to admit defeat. He was powerless. Even the most mundane spell he tried to cast didn’t even so much as spark light out of his fingertips. He hadn’t known this feeling since he was twelve years old, but back then, it had been normal. Now, it felt like he was hollow with no way to fill himself up.
He’d spent so much time walking off his frustration before, and now, searching for the Mage, that it was too late to call Hannigan, and he really didn’t want to go back to the station and report this. Maybe if he slept on it, he’d wake up and discover everything had been a dream.
Marlow reached his apartment even more out of breath and expected his loss of stamina would have one obvious benefit, but when he laid down in bed, he was hard as a rock, like any other night.
He groaned and slipped his hand down his sleep pants. He was warm from the walk home, but he couldn’t summon any lube or call upon any other elements. He had to lick his palm, returning with swift strokes and hoping to get things over with quickly.
No such luck. He was too used to using something other than his hand, but he didn’t own toys. He’d never needed them. Now, he had to slow down, focus on feeling, clear his thoughts.
Dark eyes flashed through his mind and he snapped his eyes open.
He tried again.
Dark skin appeared this time, luscious and glistening, and the curve of a teasing smirk.
Marlow growled. The one person he didn’t want to think about tonight kept springing to mind, and the worst part was, he got a little closer to finishing every time it happened.
After several more minutes of the same back and forth, Marlow finally just gave in, picturing that kilt, with a bare chest above and bare legs beneath, bare everything beneath, while Remy slowly raised it, showing off a sizable cock that he took in hand and stroked—
Marlow came, a shudder wracking through him that felt incredible, no magic required, but left him that much more exhausted. He barely had the energy to hoist out of bed to clean himself. Even after he had, he felt dirty.
Just that once and never again!
And he was never telling Remy.
Blessedly, he was able to fall asleep without any outcry for an encore, but the next morning, he still couldn’t cast magic.
“A rogue Mage cursed you?” Hannigan gaped.
Marlow had waited as long as possible before calling in the cavalry. He did not want to explain the situation in full and didn’t plan to. There had to be some way to get his magic back without following the Mage’s orders.
“But she didn’t say anything about how to fix it?”
“Uhh, nope.” Marlow shifted in the chair in front of Hannigan’s desk. At least, as an advisor, she had her own office, so no one could overhear this conversation.
“That’s odd. With that kind of magic, there’s almost always a stipulation—”
“Right?” Marlow laughed a little too nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Weird. So, um, can you figure out a way to get my powers back?”
“Totally! Nothing can cut off someone’s magic completely. This should be easy.”
She seemed confident that she’d be able to come up with something to thwart the curse, but as the day dragged on, nothing they attempted had any effect. She used device after device on Marlow to Dispel magic, Counter Curse, even some spells just to increase his vitality. Marlow still shimmered with a silvery aura whenever she scanned him, he still was a Storm Mage, but no matter what they did, he couldn’t access his magic.
“I’m sorry, Marlow. I just don’t get it,” she said, having dedicated her entire day to him to no avail. “You sure you’re not forgetting something?” she asked.
“You know, I’m fine.” Marlow started backing out of her office. “I’ll just sleep on it again. It has to wear off eventually. We’ll call this a sick day.”
“Shouldn’t you contact a superior or specialist—”
“I’m fine! Thanks for trying.”
He bolted. He knew he was being ridiculous, but even if he did come clean, what could Hannigan do to help him other than volunteer? And no—no way. Marlow coul
d never put his friend in that position.
He paced the streets for nearly an hour after leaving the station, annoyed at how slow he was now, how tired simply walking left him, until he found himself at his wits end, standing in a convenience store far from his own neighborhood, staring at the aisle of condoms and lube, and a few things he wasn’t even sure the uses for.
There was specific lube for anal? Why had he never known that? And what made it different exactly? Did he need specific condoms to fit him properly? Would his magic even let him use one, like…what if he accidentally generated lightning or fire when his powers came back and melted it?
What if his powers came back right as he climaxed and went haywire? He couldn’t just pick someone up at a bar! He was doomed.
“And here I thought you were avoiding me today, or were you just waiting to get me alone?”
Marlow flailed back as he turned to see Remy standing in the condom aisle, wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket like he just woke up like that every day, gorgeous and smoldering and flawless.
Remy was smirking and nodded at the condoms. “Think fate’s trying to tell us something?”
Fuck, Marlow hated him. Who did he think he was being all smooth and sexy and right there when Marlow was thinking about sex? And after he’d given Marlow a hard-on last night and left him unsatisfied.
Not that Marlow wanted Remy to satisfy him! That would be a terrible idea.
Wouldn’t it?
“Cat got your tongue, your highness?”
Marlow stared rather than answered, contemplating Remy with his effortless attractiveness even while carrying a basket filled with mundane essentials like milk, bandages, and was that a Skor bar? Marlow loved those.
He had to focus. He couldn’t ask Remy to take his virginity. Remy did not have a thing for him, and he didn’t have a thing for Remy!
Only, damn it, maybe he did.
Remy teased him all the time, had ever since the academy, so of course that would increase after last night’s debacle. But as much as Marlow knew the idea was insane, the longer he stood there and regarded the man before him, the more he couldn’t help thinking that Remy was the perfect choice.
If Remy was interested, and Marlow thought he marginally might be, then Marlow wouldn’t have to tell him anything about the rogue Mage or being a virgin, same as if he’d found a stranger. If she showed up, or if Marlow’s powers kicked in as he orgasmed, it wouldn’t be a big deal, because this was Remy; he could handle himself.
Plus, it could just be sex, no expectations, no ruining any friendships. He and Remy weren’t friends; frenemies at best. With Remy it could be easy. It could be everything he needed.
Remy stared back at him expectantly, eyebrow raised, since Marlow hadn’t said anything.
Swallowing back his nerves, Marlow stepped into Remy’s space, trying his damnedest to be bold, maybe even seductive, despite the way Remy’s eyes flicking down and up his body made his face feel hot.
Made everything feel hot.
“What if fate is trying to tell us something?”
Remy visibly swallowed, staring at Marlow’s lips. “That hard up, huh?”
“If I say yes, will you shut up and get out of here with me?”
Remy’s eyes widened, but then narrowed, as if skeptical the offer was real.
Marlow leaned in closer to him, smelling the heady spice of Remy’s cologne. “You can add whatever you want from this aisle to that basket, and I’ll meet you outside. No tricks. No ulterior motives. Wherever you want to go. Whatever you want to do. Just so long as condoms are involved and no MagiTech.”
A huff left Remy’s lips, but as he seemed to read that Marlow’s expression was indeed serious, his usually controlled composure faltered. He collected himself quickly, however, and flicked his eyes down Marlow’s body again. “Sounds fun. No other requests?”
Marlow pulled off the last of his wavering bravado with a whispered, “Surprise me,” and turned on his heel to flee before the flush to his face could give him away.
Waiting outside on the street corner helped cool his heated skin but it didn’t do much to squelch his nerves. He checked his phone. Hannigan was worried, having left a succession of messages urging him to come back to the station.
Are you okay?
Why aren’t you more freaked out about this?
Let me know immediately if anything changes.
I know you’re not telling me everything.
She always knew when he was hiding something, but if Marlow confessed the truth now, she’d just try to talk him out of going home with Remy, and that was the best solution he could think of.
He texted back: I lied. She told me how to break the curse, it’s just personal and embarrassing, so I need to sort this out myself. I’ll be fine. Please don’t report anything. I’ll have everything fixed by morning.
Then he turned off his phone.
“Hotel? Or do you trust me enough to go where I lead you?” Remy jarred Marlow back to the present, just the two of them standing on a dark yet peaceful street corner, with Remy spotlighted ethereally beneath the lamps like he’d walked onto a midnight photoshoot.
Marlow shook his head. “I trust you to always take what you want. So, lead on.”
There was hunger in Remy’s eyes that Marlow wasn’t used to. As they headed down the street, he tried not to stray his eyes too much to the bag in Remy’s hand or wonder at its contents.
They reached their destination after only two blocks. It hadn’t been enough time for Marlow to psych himself up for this, but he told himself to calm down as he followed Remy into an apartment building. He could do this. He’d wanted this for so long, and even if there were extenuating circumstances, it was hard to imagine a more tantalizing partner than Remy Parker.
All magical affinity aside, Marlow was so out of his league.
“Any other surprises planned the next time we spar?” Marlow asked, pushing for more of their bantering small talk to banish his nerves.
Remy smirked, taking out his key once they reached the third floor. “You’ll be the first to know. But if this is a ruse to swipe those gloves, that caveat about no MagiTech will change very quickly.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob.
“It’s not a ruse,” Marlow said plainly.
“Well then…” Remy pushed open the door.
The apartment was not what Marlow expected. Remy was chic and exacting in everything he did, but his home had a warmth to it with plush furniture, abstract but unpretentious art on the walls, and an impressive entertainment system.
There was even…
“Is that us?” Marlow crossed the room to a framed newspaper article. It was a shot of Marlow and Remy taking down a powerful rogue Mage from a year ago when separate cases had turned out to be connected.
“I like that picture, and we made a good team—when you weren’t telling me to get out of your way.”
Marlow chuckled as he turned back to Remy, who’d shed his shoes and was removing his jacket. The bag from the convenience store rested on the kitchen island. Marlow couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to it now.
“Can’t say I haven’t thought about this,” Remy said.
“Really?”
“Obviously you have as well, or you wouldn’t have gotten so excited having me in your arms last night.”
“That wasn’t—” Marlow fought a blush but scowled when Remy smirked at him. “Can we not bring that up? Like…ever?”
“Embarrassed?”
“Mortified.”
“Don’t be. Wouldn’t want you to feel that way when I get you hard on purpose.”
Marlow stiffened as Remy advanced with a predatory gleam in his eyes. A hand reached for his face and slid a soft thumb along the edge of his cheek on the way to grasp his neck and pull him closer. Marlow’s own hand quivered, floundering for a grip at Remy’s hip.
Remy kissed him, tongue teasing Marlow’s lips open, and it was easy to let him in, slowly
tasting him and sinking against his body.
“You are going to feel so good,” Remy whispered, stroking Marlow’s cheek.
“I hope so.”
“Doubting my skills already?”
“No. Not even a little.” Marlow drew Remy’s hand down and tugged him deeper into the apartment. “Come on. Or did you want to do this in the kitchen?”
“So impatient.” Remy followed Marlow part of the way before pulling back. “Bedroom’s up the stairs. Be right there.”
“Okay.” Marlow assumed Remy wanted to lock up, get what he needed from the bag, maybe use the bathroom.
That was a good idea actually. Marlow toed his shoes off at the foot of the stairs and climbed up to the lofted bedroom. A half bath was tucked into the corner, which he made use of, before discarding his jacket on a chair by a table covered in books.
Good Omens sat next to something in Russian, a nonfiction book on recent advancements in security technology, and an ancient-looking tome on Arthurian legend. Marlow smiled at the assortment of titles and picked up the Arthur book to page through it. There were several illustrations, beautifully painted, including one that seemed familiar, almost like a crest, with an elegant sword—
“Feel free to make yourself comfortable.” Remy entered with the elusive bag in tow. He set it on the chair on top of Marlow’s jacket.
“Oh.” Marlow hadn’t thought to undress. He didn’t really—no, he could say it: he had no idea what he was doing.
“Or do I get to unwrap this exquisite gift?” Remy grinned wider on his approach.
How did he make everything he said sound both scripted and natural?
He cupped Marlow’s cheek again. His skin was wonderfully warm.
“That would be nice.” Marlow leaned into Remy’s touch, but he didn’t want to seem too green, even if he planned to let Remy lead. He moved to kiss the other man first this time, slid his hands around Remy’s waist, and backed them toward the bed.
Remy kissed with incredible depth and precision, like a poet building verses.
Wow, Marlow was a hopeless romantic, but then, so was Remy. He was romantic and dramatic. A huge dork, really, with his love of history and legends.
The Immaculate Marlow King Page 2
