Chapter Twelve
Mads
When morning came, Marquis had vacated the bed already, giving Mads a moment of panic until he saw a folded note on the nightstand.
Rexford and Nite need a day alone. We’ll be watching Caspian. I’ll wait until you’re awake and freshened up before we head out. I was thinking of taking the little one on a hike to search for some wandwood.
“Starting the little one early, I see.” Mads smiled as he sat up and hummed happily, enjoying the pleasant ache still wracking his body. Marquis had a way of making his entire body feel loved.
And sore.
Very sore.
He stretched and slid from bed, making his way to the cramped bathroom, the room rife with the scent of some cheap cleaner. It impressed him that a coven full of men didn’t pop in and cast a sweeping spell or a cleaning charm. The spells worked, but they were about as thorough as a twelve-year-old boy told to clean something. Magic was a professional at weaponized incompetence. It’d get done, just not to anyone’s full satisfaction.
Mads stepped into the shower, cleaned up, dried off, and dressed for the day, almost forgetting his wand. The intricate design of it hummed in his hand, and Mads couldn’t resist giving the wood a spin before flicking it toward the bed. The covers snapped into place, sheet tightening and pillows fluffed with a stirring of fabric particles in the air. He cast a freshening charm after because as much as he loved having sex, he didn’t want to smell it the morning after.
Magic loved Mads as much as he loved it. It’d been so long since his old wand, since Baron had taken it away.No paramour of mine is going to wield my brother’s inferior wand!But he never made Mads a new wand or gave him one. He’d kept that level of control as Baron and Damien used him out of spite. Baron had been attracted to him more so than Damien. Damien, though? When Baron had taken him from Marquis without so much as a sour word or fight, like he wasn’t worth it, he let the spite boil inside of him.
For all the good it did him. Mads remembered Damien’s death, the spell gone wrong, his lifeless body laying out as if he’d aged like a human. Some mages grayed a little at the temples. The really old ones. The stressed ones.
Mads shook the thought from his mind. Darkness wasn’t welcome in his mind anymore. What was welcome? Family. The one he’d made.
And so many years ago he stood before Arthur’s desk and turned over cards, past, present, and future. He had become the king of his rotten past, and in the joy of moving up, he’d suffer. He knew he’d suffer. He knew it was coming. But he didn’t trust cards, just like he never trusted an alpha. The thought made him huff a sharp laugh.
But those two cards at the end. The Ten of Cups. The Star. They called out to him and as Mads made his way toward the community room, where he stepped face-first into the door with a resonating bump of glass to his face. “Ah, shhhh-it…”
Not seeing any kids in earshot, he let himself finish the word and rubbed at his nose as Marquis pushed free and stared at him with wide-eyed fear. “Mads?”
“Sorry! I was lost in thought. I’m fine!” Mads managed to give a fake laugh that didn’t appear to have convinced Marquis.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Marquis leaned down and picked Caspian up as he toddled over on unsteady feet.
“Arthur is dead, so I suppose I can break my promise.” Mads sighed and pulled away from Marquis, heading toward a nearby bench to sit.
Marquis’s face darkened a little as he followed and gently pushed Caspian into Mads’s arms. “He’s a wonderful therapist. Good listener. No judgment.”
Mads snuggled up to the babe and sighed as he told Marquis about that private conversation he’d had with Arthur, where he was offered a small fortune at the time to leave, and the cards that told him what was to come. And how there would be a happily ever after.
“Those old tarocchi cards?” Marquis frowned, brightening for a moment. “He gave those to me before he died. Said they belonged to someone else and to make sure Baron never got them.”
“Oh.” Mads huffed. He shook his head as Marquis leaned into his side.
“I suppose they’re yours. Why didn’t you ever tell me Father had tried to pay you off?” Marquis didn’t sound hurt, but he was good at hiding his emotions.
“Because I don’t think he wanted to. He wanted to make sure I wanted you. It was a rather rash and last-minute choice.” Mads laughed. “To think we’d actually have matched so well.”
Marquis nodded sagely. “I’m terribly dull and boring.”
“No, you’re honorable and predictable. You have impeccable manners. Those traits are often confused with dullness. I recall us having so much fun.” Mads sighed. “Speaking of fun. Wandwood gathering? And why is the little one in our care this evening?”
“Midnite is quite sad, understandably. Rex is taking him out on a date and comforting him.” Marquis pursed his lips and shrugged. “This is why mages were not meant to mingle with mortals.”
“At least he understood what had to be done.” Mads stared out at the plain courtyard. The place was awfully drab, with an air of disuse, almost. Damp and dim. The place never really brightened until people came out.
“He’d expected it to be much easier. He’d not seen them in half his life, and he expected rejection. But his mother and sister came around, even if just for a moment. I’m glad they did, but sad at the same time. I’m sure, either way, he’d have been low after this.” Marquis stretched and stood.
For a moment, Mads realized something was different. It took a second, but bare arms graced his sight, forearms dusted with light black hair. Marquis was wearing a T-shirt. And for that matter, he wore jeans, too. Not even slacks. The T-shirt, a brownish-rust color, snugly fit his arms and chest in a very flattering way, and the material beckoned for a touch. Mads spared a hand from clutching Caspian to feel the texture, soft and plush between his fingers. “Casual?”
