Chapter Eight

Marcus yawned and stretched but an uncomfortable pull on his stomach made him flinch. He blinked, disoriented, like he’d gone on an all-night bender—something he hadn’t done since he was sixteen.

Raising a heavy arm, Marcus rubbed the sleep away with the back of his hand.

The disorientation faded as he realized he’d woken in his cabin aboard the Pride. The last thing he remembered was walking down a street in Montego Bay... his senses perked up.

I’m not alone.

Squinting into the dim cabin, Marcus sucked in a gasp when he saw an all-too familiar man sitting in the chair near the foot of his bed.

“Dane?”

“Hello, Marcus.”

Those two words were like a mother’s hug, a visit from Santa Claus, and the perfect song all rolled into one.

Pure, unadulterated joy.

With a sigh, Marcus laid back on the bed, overcome with a disproportionate amount of relief. He knows my name. While elation felt absurd, it was the only emotion Marcus could use to describe his feelings.

“How do you feel?” Dane questioned. He uncrossed his legs and sat up straighter, giving Marcus the impression he’d been watching him sleep. Rather than seem creepy, the thought soothed him.

I hope I wasn’t drooling!

Marcus blinked a few times, trying to process Dane’s question.

“Confused,” he finally answered. He’d been in Jamaica, following the directions on his phone to a tattoo parlor when... “Did someone jump me?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”Dane moved his hand and the lights brightened enough to see him more clearly. Were there motion sensing lights in the cabin and Marcus hadn’t noticed?

Not important!

“I don’t remember anything, was I drugged?” Marcus hadn’t eaten anything suspicious. What the hell?

“No.”

Marcus studied the beautiful man with his impossible lilac eyes, his stylishly tussled white blond hair and delicate facial features. A flash of something fluttered in his consciousness, and he thought of the potential tattoo he’d made of the black magical creature with flowing white hair and lilac eyes. He might as well add being hit in the head and a concussion to his list of possible injuries, because he could’ve sworn that he’d just seen such a creature.

Had it carried me?

Marcus rubbed his eyes and tried to regain a memory he couldn’t quite reach.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, Marcus,” Dane offered.

“You know my name.”

“Of course I do.” He sat back in the chair and crossed his legs again, top foot bouncing. He cocked his head to the side and studied Marcus. “You spent a long time flashing my picture and trying to find me the last time you were on this ship.”

Marcus felt his skin heat with a blush. “I-I’m not a stalker. I wanted to meet you. Maybe buy you a drink.”

“I don’t take drinks from strangers.”

Marcus wanted to argue he wasn’t a stranger, but he was, even if he couldn’t explain why the word stranger felt so wrong in his heart. “Then why are you here now?”

“You were taken captive to get to me,” Dane explained.

“Taken captive?” Marcus sat up fast—probably a little too quickly because his head spun and he needed to lay back right away. “Is someone trying to hurt you? Tell me. I’ll put an end to it.”

The tiny man laughed, the sound like music and joy.

Damn, I got it bad for this guy!

“I took care of the situation,” Dane assured him.

“By yourself?”

“With your help.”

Marcus shifted on the bed, slower this time, and pushed his legs over the edge, suddenly aware he was naked with only a sheet across his lap. Unfortunately, Dane didn’t seem interested in him in that way. Maybe he wasn’t gay and that’s why he’d avoided Marcus all this time.

Shit, you’re stupid,he told himself. How had he never considered that option?

“While I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, I’ve been trying to figure out what you are.”

Marcus studied the guy. “What do you mean, what I am?”

“She didn’t tell me what you were when she healed you. But my magic is strong now that our bond is complete. I can tell you’re human, but there’s something else about you. A magical thread of something I do not recognize.”

Marcus raised both eyebrows and remained silent for a moment. So maybe Marcus had fallen for a mentally ill person suffering from delusions.

Then why did his words sort of make sense?

“Perhaps I should ask what you are?” Marcus countered.

“I am a Fae Lord,” Dane answered. “Have you heard of the Fae?”

He tried to speak in an even tone. “Like fairy circles and changelings? That sort of thing? Or a like drag queens in fairy costumes?”

“Definitely the former, although I haven’t seen a changeling in over a century. I am a Fae Lord. There are only a few of us in this realm. I serve Fae King Raoul. His Majesty owns this ship with his consort, Captain Leonides, a son of Dionysius. I am born of pure magic. At birth, a portion of my soul—and along with it, full access to my magic—was held back by the Goddess. When you were born, she put it inside you.” His face twisted. “When I bound our blood to save us, it awakened my magic. I am quite powerful.”

Marcus didn’t want to be an asshole, but he couldn’t stop the smile cracking his face or the chuckle that escaped his lips.

Dane stared at him.

Marcus swallowed hard. “Oh, you’re not joking. You actually believe that.”

Maybe Marcus could get him help. Maybe it was the whole reason he was supposed to meet him.

That disappointed him to his core.

With an exasperated sigh, Dane pushed to his feet. “I might as well show you, or you’ll never believe me.”

A tingle of static electricity swept over Marcus’s skin and, within the blink of an eye, Dane became a seven-foot-tall black mystical creature with opalescent wings, lilac eyes, and long flowing white hair.

“What the fuck!”

Marcus grabbed the sheets around his chest, crab-crawling away until his back pressed to the headboard. He blinked several times staring at the creature—Fae Lord?—he’d thought about tattooing on the empty space of his thigh.

“This is my true form. I didn’t quite know what I would look like until I had the rest of my soul, but I think I like it,” the creature said with a deeper, rumbly version of Dane’s voice. He ran hands with pointed nails up his sinewy, black flesh in an almost sensual way. His muscles were carved ebony, and Marcus found himself disappointed he wore a small loin cloth, because what lurked beneath looked as large as the rest of him.

Marcus’s dick stirred in interest.

Not the time, Marc!

The Dane-creature took two graceful steps toward the mirrored closet doors in the cabin, dipping his head down to study his face. “My hair looks good like this.” He turned and pierced Marcus with those bewitching eyes, finally not too big for his once petite face. “I think my eyes are the same. “Does my voice sound the same to you or different?”

“I-I th-think so,” Marcus stuttered, still clutching the sheet to his chest like a maiden in distress. “Maybe a little deeper.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

Clearing his throat, Marcus dropped the sheet and squared his shoulders. While he’d never get over the shock of the adorable Dane morphing into a giant black creature with sparkly wings, Marcus was six-foot-three with a decent set of guns. He shouldn’t be cowering like a scared little bitch.

Especially when he knew, deep in his gut, Dane would never hurt him.

Dane studied his new exotic appearance for a moment longer, and then that same static electricity itched over Marcus’s skin, until the familiar little blond stood in front of the mirror, his eyes the only thing unchanged.

Marcus blinked several more times, then rubbed his own eyes with his fists.

No, this can’t be real. I’m imagining it.

“Did somebody slip something in my drink? I don’t remember anything that happened since I went to Jamaica. Now I’m seeing things...”

As soon as he said it aloud, panic filled him as memories of everything his dad used to say assaulted him. The whispers he’d heard, the missing hours, the demons telling him what to do... the voices. The ghosts... the monsters.

Marcus refused to entertain the notion he might’ve inherited his father’s illness. But now? Seeing this and processing it alongside his unnatural obsession with a guy he’d seen one time... none of it felt right.

So why didn’t it feel wrong?

Because I’m not losing my mind. This is all real.

Since Marcus woke up from whatever the fuck happened to him in Jamaica, his mind felt clearer. He glanced around his cabin. Everything remained where he’d left it. Outside the porthole window laid darkness. He was completely naked and his cellphone was gone. He didn’t know if his friends missed him, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to think about anything but the man standing in front of his closet.

A man who moments ago stood over seven-feet-tall with wings.

“What are you, Marcus?” Dane asked again, his adorable face scrunched in confusion.

“I’m a tattoo artist.” He waved at his chest and arms covered in ink.

“I don’t like some of your ink. As your mate, I should’ve been given a say since I’m the one who will look at you for eternity.”

“You don’t like my ink?” Marcus studied his arms in confusion. “Which one don’t you like? Wait... what? Mate? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We can discuss that later.” Dane shook his head. “Now what are you? How are you able to draw everyone for who they are?”

“What?”

Dane appeared two seconds away from stomping his foot with impatience, which would be equal parts bratty and adorable. “Stop skirting the question. Adam showed me photographs of your drawings. Now that we are bonded, I feel something else tethered to you. What is it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dude.”

He took a deep, composing breath. “Your drawings. Do you have any more I can see?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, glad he’d left his sketchbook on the ship, otherwise it might’ve been wherever the hell his phone and pants went. Thankfully he’d left his jewelry in the safe, heeding Nathan’s warnings about the shady neighborhood he’d been headed to.

Shadier than expected since I was jumped.

Marcus pointed to the small desk. “My sketchbook is over there.”

Dane approached it like a grenade with the pin pulled, shooting occasional glances over his narrow but sculpted shoulder. He wore white shorts and the blue polo of all the crew, his almost hairless legs lean but defined. He stepped up to the desk and, with delicate fingers, opened Marcus’s sketchbook.

A twinge of nervous fear hit Marcus as Dane studied the first few pages. He knew what the man would soon find.

Dane turned several pages, then his back straightened and he shot a look at Marcus. “You’ve drawn me. Many times.”

Refusing to cower, Marcus nodded. “You’re beautiful. I’ve been drawing you since I first saw you.”

“Why?” Dane continued to turn pages, pausing here and there.

“I can’t explain it.”

“Try.”

It was an imperious command, not a request, and despite that, Marcus found himself wanting to explain his bizarre obsession.

“The moment I saw you it was like the band started to play our favorite song. I knew you were mine. I know that sounds crazy and stalkerish, but something else is going on here, right? I mean, like, you were just a gigantic black creature with wings.”

“Not a creature,” Dane corrected without glancing up from the sketchbook. “A Fae Lord. One of the most powerful beings in this realm.”

“Okay then. A Fae Lord. I don’t—”

Marcus’s words were cut off by Dane’s gasp.

Dane lifted the book and showed Marcus the drawings that had shocked him. The one Kendra said belonged on the side of a van—a unicorn standing in indigo sand, with the green sky and three moons above. On the other side of the book was the Fae Lord who’d stood in his room moments ago.

“How did you draw her? How did you know my true form? When did you draw this? Did you see me with her the first time?” Dane shook his head as he rattled off questions. Then he stared at Marcus, face wrinkled. “What are you?”

Marcus looked around the cabin, wishing he had on pants. Still squished up by the headboard, it embarrassed him he hadn’t bothered to move. Refusing to look stupid in front of this man, he stayed where he was, as if it was perfectly normal to be huddled in a corner.

“I drew those months ago,” Marcus told him. “I don’t know who her is, but I don’t understand what’s happening either. And why do you keep asking me what I am?”

“You drew this months ago?”

“Yeah, I’ve always been into fantasy stuff. Obviously. That’s why everybody keeps asking me to draw their pictures. I don’t know why I drew that.” Marcus tried to insert logic into the illogical. “I was thinking about getting new ink, and I imagined a black creature with wings, so I drew it. I drew a unicorn because, well? They’re pretty. I don’t know what you want from me.”

Dane shook his head as he flipped more pages. “You drew the mermen as mermen. Did you know?”

“Did I know what?”

“Your friends are merfolk,” he declared, pointing at the drawing of Skip and Jeremiah. He turned the page and pointed at the one of Aleek. “You knew they were Mer. How? How did you know Adam is a fire wizard? And why did you give him a dragon? Will he have a dragon as a pure vessel?”

“Look, I don’t understand anything you’re saying.” Marcus used his heels too to scooch to the edge of the bed. Standing, he yanked the sheet off and wrapped it around himself like a towel. “What the fuck is going on?”

Dane stared at his nipple piercings, and Marcus thought he caught a glimpse of desire, but his gaze snapped up to Marcus’s face too fast to be sure.

“Somehow you’re able to see our true identities,” Dane said. “I’ve never encountered this kind of magic, but when I touch the pages, there is no magic. Just a drawing. How are you doing it? Who sent you?”

Marcus was getting a little pissed off. “What are you talking about, who sent me? And why are you fixated on me drawing Jeremiah and Aleek as mermen? It was just for fun.”

“You’re not human, Marcus,” Dane told him. “Well you are, but something’s off. I feel as if I need to speak to the king.”

“What? The king of England?”

This guy has lost his mind!

“Like anyone wants to talk to Charles III,” Dane snapped. “My king. The Fae King. King Raoul. I already told you about him.”

“You mean the purser?”

“Have you listened to nothing I’ve said?” Dane snapped. “All of this is real.” He gestured to the sketchbook. “Adam is a fire wizard. Penelope is a water sprite. Jeremiah and Aleek are merfolk. Theron is the last Magus, a powerful wizard blessed by the Fae and in service to the king. In a past life, his mate, Lewis, was a monk, seduced and killed by a vampire. You met that vampire in the Aruba Lounge, Daniel. He and Chris are vampires... well? Chris sort of is, but that’s another story.” He waved his hands impatiently. “You drew every paranormal creature on this ship in their true para identity. How? And how did you know what my true form would look like before I did? How did you see the unicorn realm? I sense no magic on you at all!”

Marcus sat heavily, the mattress bouncing beneath his weight. “This isn’t happening. I’m going crazy,” he whispered, voice cracking.

“Yes, it is happening,” Dane argued, stepping up to him. Then he cupped Marcus’s face in his tiny hands. “And no, you are not going crazy.”

A jolt of pleasure and joy swept through Marcus’s body at the feel of their skin connecting for the first time. Their gazes locked and all the panic receded. A rightness settled over Marcus as warmth simmered in his chest, just behind his heart.

Then Dane blinked and snatched his hands back, stepping away as if burned.

He put his back to Marcus and flipped through the book again. “It’s all true. Magickind are real. We now call ourselves paras, as in paranormals. There are few of us left anymore, and this ship is a sanctuary for our kind. All the wild parties and costumes are so we can hide in plain sight. It’s probably the safest place in this realm, because humans only see what they want, within their limited scope, of course.”

“Limited scope?”

Dane shrugged. “Most of your friends have magic, yet you didn’t know. Limited. Scope.”

While he wanted to be offended by Dane’s snide tone, the puzzle pieces began clicking together and his mind switched gears. “What are Nathan and Josh?” He’d known his friends had a bizarre secret, but he never would’ve guessed magic might be a part of it.

“Josh is human, but Nathan is a partial demon. To be precise, he’s partial incubus,” he said with an irritated twist.

A sex demon? Maybe they were having kinky sex parties. Bastards, why hadn’t they invited him? He shook his head. He was not interested in seeing his cousin getting freaky. Actually, Marcus hadn’t been interested in any man for months. Regardless of all the wacky things Dane spouted, Marcus still just wanted Dane.

Only Dane.

“How are you drawing us, Marcus?” he demanded again.

“I don’t know,” Marcus cried, confused and frustrated. “It’s like I just look, and I don’t know? Ideas come to me like someone whispered them. A muse, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Someone is whispering to you?” Dane clarified. “Is it a male or female voice? Is it familiar?”

“No!” Marcus shook his head. “There’s no actual voice.” Please God, don’t let me hear voices. He crossed himself for good measure and wished he could kiss his cross that he’d locked in the safe. “It’s just a feeling. Like I look at something and an idea pops into my head. You know, I’m an artist and that’s kinda what artists do. You don’t ask a writer where they get their ideas. Shit just comes to them, the same thing with me.”

“This is more than writing a novel or drawing a tattoo,” Dane insisted. “You’re seeing people’s true identity. It’s dangerous.”

“Why? Do you think I’m gonna tell people mermen and fairies are real?” He laughed. “They’d lock me up and throw away the key.” A cold shiver itched down his back, and he shook his head as awful realities swamped his thoughts. “No. This isn’t real. I’m hallucinating.”

Fuck, I am becoming my father.

“Oh, no!” Dane gasped in pain. Then he buckled over, gripping the back of a chair, skin flushed, his breathing suddenly ragged.

Marcus jumped up and reached for him, pausing before touching. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

Dane’s face contorted and when he looked at him, shockingly Marcus’s dick perked up. Dane’s pupils were blown with lust, the beautiful lilac barely visible, his lips swollen and pink as if recently kissed.

“Oh no,” Dane muttered, face crumpling in horror. “This can’t be happening right now. Damn him!”

“Damn who? Who’s him?”

When Marcus touched his arm, Dane convulsed. “No!”He jerked away.

Was something horrible happening to his new friend? “What’s going on? Tell me. Should I get help?”

Wildly, Dane shook his head. “You’re the only person who can help me, but I need to leave.” Then his face strained like he was seconds away from having a heart attack... or maybe shooting a load.

Honestly, it looked like it could go either way.

“If I can help, let me help you,” Marcus insisted, both worried and irritated at himself for how turned-on Dane’s expression made him.

Talk about inappropriate!

“It’s Nathan.”

Totally not what Marcus expected him to say.

He fought down a jealous growl. “What about him?”

“Is he on this deck?”

“Yeah, just a few doors down. Why?”

“He’s an incubus which means he’s got dark magic. I’m neutral magic. Magic is light, dark, and neutral. Fae can’t get high or drunk in this realm, but we can get high and drunk off dark demon magic. Especially because he’s having sex. Right. Now.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Every single Fae on board knows it!” He grabbed his dick through his pants, and it was hard and bulging. The little wet spot stunned Marcus. “Goddess damn him!”

Marcus’s skin flushed. “Are you like horny or something?” he asked, suddenly feeling like a goofy twelve-year-old fighting a giggle. “How’d that happen?”

“I have to go!” Dane cried, racing to the door.“He’s too close!”

Marcus grabbed him by the shoulders before he took two steps. “No, let me help you.”

“Do you know what helping me entails?” he asked in a rough, breathy voice.

“I think I can guess.”

Dane shuddered again, grabbing at his cock like a little kid who needed to pee. “Oh my Goddess.” He began to shake. “It hurts a lot. I gotta come.”

“What can I do?”

“Marcus, if I don’t leave right now, I’m gonna take you to that bed and do all kinds of things without your permission. You’re my mate and this is incubi magic. We’re already bonded so I can’t shut it out. Let me go.”

Marcus stepped forward, looming over Dane. He didn’t understand what was happening, but his dick was about to get everything it had been dreaming about for months. He’d figure out the rest later.

“Oh, you have my permission. Complete and total permission.”