The Wizard King (8 page)

“Good morning.”

Gen meeped, startled.

Gareth laughed, the sound low and deep in his chest, sending shivers down her spine. He rolled over on top of her so quickly she had no time to respond. “Hello, warlock mine.”

“Hi.”
Mine? Did he just say mine?

And she very much doubted that was a cucumber poking her stomach as he loomed over her.

He smirked, that knowing expression that made her want to beat him with his own arm. “So. A virgin.”

She flushed deep red. “You’ve met my family.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Though I’d like to think they had nothing to do with you being a virgin.”

“I’d ask you to picture yourself with a baby sister—” She laughed when he suddenly scowled. Overprotective of his brothers and their mates as he was, he’d be a holy terror with a sister—“but my brothers were never that nice.” She tilted her head. “My father had every intention of making an advantageous marriage for me, and remaining pure merely drove up my price. So he tasked my brothers with driving away any potential suitors.” She grimaced. “They were exceptionally good at their jobs.”

“So I managed to steal the princess from her ivory tower.”

“No.” Her serious tone wiped the smirk from his face. “The princess broke free on her own.”

“You’re right, sweetheart. Getting away from your father and brother took some balls.”

She nodded as grimly as she could when a man who’d hated her one day and made love to her the next was straddling her thighs. “It’s why I clank when I walk.”

Gareth blinked, a wide, delighted grin crossing his face. “You made a joke.”

“Yes, Gareth. The stick up my ass is actually a funny bone.”

Deep, booming laughter was her reward for mocking herself. “That’s my girl.” He kissed the tip of her nose before rolling off of her. “Time to get up, sweetheart.”

She blinked. “Um. All right.” She took a deep breath and rolled over, studiously avoiding looking at the naked man striding toward the bath…

Oh. That ass should be illegal. Nothing should look that good before caffeine.

She waited until the door was shut before scrambling for her…

Oh dear. Where were her clothes?

She sighed deeply, remembering exactly where they were. She was going to have to streak through Gareth’s house to his workroom, gather her things and pull them on. Her suitcase was still in the car, but everything inside was dirty and needed a wash as desperately as yesterday’s outfit did. She needed to go home, gather some more of her things to take over to Kerry’s house before her brothers destroyed them. She wouldn’t put it past them to take her items and sell them on eBay.

But that was a worry for another day. Today, she had to worry about getting from the bedroom to the workroom without being seen.

She opened Gareth’s closet door and pulled out one of his button-down shirts. It barely covered her dignity, but it would do for her purposes. If the man owned a robe it was somewhere else, probably in the bathroom.

Somehow, she doubted he did.

Gen darted into the hallway and down the stairs, heading for Gareth’s workroom. She only had a few minutes before Gareth would be done in the bathroom.

“Good morning.”

She froze, her hand on the knob of the workroom door. She didn’t remember either of them shutting it last night.

“Ah.” Pulling the tatters of her dignity around her, Gen turned and faced Gareth’s steward. “Good morning.”

The man’s gaze remained on her face, either out of respect for Gareth or because he was a true gentleman. “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing in your suitcase, your highness.”

Your highness?
Gen felt faint. “I don’t think—”

“I’m afraid one of the silk blouses was a total loss. The rest is in the wash, along with the items of clothing you and his highness left in the workroom.”

All right. His expression was suspiciously bland, but she got the impression he was secretly laughing at her. Of course, that might have had something to do with the way she was tugging on the front hem of Gareth’s shirt. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome, your highness.” He glanced at his watch. “We have three hours before we need to leave for the airport. Would you mind informing his highness?”

“Airport?” Gareth was leaving?

“Oh, yes.” The man smiled, and it was truly happy, not one of the fake court smiles she’d seen so often in the past. “Today, Gareth Beckett will be crowned king, and you will be crowned queen-consort.”

She gave up the struggle with the shirt. “Since when?”

“Since when what, your highness?”

“Since when will I be crowned anything?” She didn’t know whether to be delighted or horrified. Her, queen of the wizards?

Aunt Vivian would have a coronary.

McDorman took hold of her left hand and held it up. “Since you answered his call, your highness.”

The glittering emerald of the Beckett family ring mocked her. She had no idea when Gareth slipped that on her finger, because the last time she saw it, it had graced the hand of Johra Yashodar, Zach’s mate.

Mate.

She knew what the Beckett spell meant for the Beckett men. What the consequences were if the mate who answered the call refused them. Gareth would go insane and die, pining for her for the rest of his short life. And she’d be the one responsible for killing off the new wizard king, not to mention the rest of the Becketts would never forgive her for destroying their brother.
No pressure.

“Yes, your highness.” She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud until McDorman answered her. “I’ll have coffee ready for you in twenty minutes.” For the first time his gaze drifted down before he politely averted his gaze. “Might I be so bold as to suggest pants?”

Gareth’s low, feral growl had her scrambling up the steps, holding the
back
hem of the shirt down, clothing forgotten as her mind whirled with what she knew, and what she thought she knew.

I’m his mate?

Chapter Five

Mac sat next to him on the flight to New York, briefly explaining not only the ritual, but also how the king could afford a private jet.

“All wizards tithe to the court, remember, sire?”

Gareth shrugged. “My dad takes care of the tithe, so it’s never been an issue for me.”

“Oh. Yes, I can see how that would make sense. As the head of the Beckett family, of course your father would take care of it.”

Gareth smiled. He didn’t have the heart to tell Mac that his mother ran the family, not his father. Mac would learn that soon enough.

“All of the money that wizards tithe to the court is used not just to fund charities and maintain our businesses, but to maintain the court. You do not own the jet, sire. The court, under our business umbrella, does. It’s merely placed at your disposal, as well as the homes in Manhattan and the Hamptons. If you wish, you may maintain your private home in Pennsylvania, although I believe you’ll find the accommodations in New York to be to your liking.”

“Can you tell me a little bit more about them? The living space, I mean.” Gareth was uprooting his life because he had no choice. It would be nice to know a little bit about what he was stepping into. Before he got into the whole business thing, he wanted to know where he’d be parking his ass on a daily basis.

Mac grinned. “Sire, you are now the legal owner of the Royale Hotel conglomerate, operating out of Manhattan.”

“Say again?” Gareth was pretty sure he squeaked like Mickey Mouse after Minnie offered to fist him.

“You own a hotel group, sire, just as the previous king did. There will be some paperwork for you to sign to make the transfer official, and your CEO will want to meet with you.” Mac shrugged. “That would be my brother.”

Gareth nodded, stunned. He’d expected something more along the lines of how the witch court was set up. They ran a small Elks Lodge in Cleveland. Prince Roland, their ruler, drove a Prius, and preferred pepperoni on his pizza. They were the definition of casual. Hell, even the formal party to welcome Zach as the first witch Own of their generation had felt more like a badass wedding reception than the high court function it had truly been. “I have a CEO?”

Gen, who’d been quietly listening in, frowned. “You didn’t know about Royale Hotels?”

“Uh, no.” He shook his head. “I mean, I’ve heard of the hotels.” There was no way he could afford to stay in one. They were pretty high-class. “We Becketts tend to avoid court like poison ivy. We don’t want to deal with the rash.”

She choked on a laugh. “Well, perhaps you should invest in some itch cream, because you’re about to deal with it a lot.”

He snarled at her, and that tinkling laugh was set free. “What the fuck do I know about running a hotel group?”

“The same thing you know about being king?” Now she was the one with a smirk on her face.

“Sire, you have people to run the corporation. A lot of them. The previous king was ill for some time, so a great deal of the business fell on other shoulders.”

“And you trust your brother to keep things running smoothly.” Gareth got it. He’d trust his brothers as well. “So I’ll be living near the hotel?”

“At the hotel. You have the largest penthouse suite with stunning views of the park.”

“Which park?”

Mac frowned. “Central Park, sire.”

“Oh.” He was going to live in a penthouse with a view of Central Park. Either the karma gods were on acid or the previous king had really enjoyed his pharmaceuticals.

“I, of course, live there as well, as will your chancellor when you appoint him.”

“Daniel. It will be Daniel.” He couldn’t do this without his brothers. But Zach was in Cleveland with Jo and an official member of the witch court. He was outside Gareth’s reach. Chris was happily nestled in Pennsylvania, and needed by their father to continue Black Wolf Graphics. Chris was the heart and soul of the business, the lead artist who made everything else work. Without him, Black Wolf would become a memory in bloody, shark-infested waters. Add in Lana’s ties to Philadelphia and the witch coven there, and Gareth couldn’t, in good conscience, ask Chris to move to New York.

Daniel, on the other hand, would adore New York City and a penthouse view. His brother was itching to get away, either from Chris and Zach’s happiness or the knowledge that soon he, too, would be casting the Beckett spell. Daniel’s mate would have to come to him, though, because Gareth was moving Daniel whether his brother liked it or not.

“Then I will make arrangements to move him, sire, as soon as you give the word.”

“Given.” Daniel would bitch at first, but then he’d get over it. He always did. And if Kerry really was Daniel’s mate, she’d find a reason to move to New York as well.

Mac made a note on his tablet computer. “Now. Your crowning will occur tonight in the grand ballroom, with most of the heads of the most prestigious families present. Your own, of course, has also been invited. I believe your mother and father are already in residence in the hotel.” Mac looked up from his tablet. “Do you wish permanent residences to be made available for them, sire?”

Gareth nodded. “Yeah. Having my mother stay in my suite would be awkward, but I know she’s going to want to visit.”

“Yes, sire.” Mac tapped notes on his tablet again. “Your tux, as well as her highness’s formal gown, have been placed within your suite, ready for you. Her highness has a hair appointment at four, while yours is at five. We’ll be leaving for the grand ballroom at seven.”

Oh, thank fuck. He hadn’t been sure how he was supposed to get a tux on such short notice.

“I assume the dinner will be after the crowning?”

Mac nodded at Gen’s quiet question. “Yes, your highness.”

“Gen.”

Mac’s smile was brief. “Yes, your highness.”

She sighed. “I see what you mean about calling you sire, Gareth.” He must have looked a little wild-eyed, because she patted his leg, the first time she’d voluntarily touched him since they’d left the bedroom this morning. “Don’t worry. I’m certain Mac made sure there is a schedule for you to follow, so you won’t miss anything. And the ritual itself will be performed by another, not you.”

But he would have his own part to play, words to recite that he’d been muttering to himself off and on since he first found out that he’d been named the heir. “Who will perform the ceremony?”

“Ideally an Own would perform it, if one exists within the wizard court at the moment. I’m not certain if one does.” Gen’s expression turned rueful. “I haven’t exactly been welcome there recently.”

Oh? Did Gareth already have some asses to kick? Finally, something in this whole mess to look forward to.

“I’m afraid not, your highness.” Mac’s voice dragged him back out of visions of kicking snotty wizard behinds. “The head of the council will perform the spell.”

“Who would that be?” Gen’s voice waivered, and for a moment Gareth saw fear in her eyes.

“Lillian Fletcher, head of the Fletcher family.”

Gen’s relief was so obvious he was surprised she didn’t give a cartoon sigh. He took hold of her hand, hoping his touch would calm her. “I’m going to go out on a limb here. You were afraid it was Vivian?”