Duking It Out: A MM Superhero Romance (Royal Powers Book 1) by E.J. Russell

Author:E.J. Russell [Russell, E.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Reality Optional Press
Published: 2020-07-05T16:00:00+00:00

At Tarik’s soft apology, Sander glanced up from his wine. “For what?”

“For a lot of things. For being such a prick to you from pretty much the moment we met.”

Sander tucked his legs to his chest and wrapped one arm around them, balancing his glass on his kneecap. “Are you always like that?”

Tarik huffed a laugh. “Well, yeah. But usually it’s because people are idiots and I know they’re idiots because I’ve been receiving their idiot communications for so long that my head is ready to explode.” He sighed. “But I had no call to treat you that way. I’ve never heard a peep from you over the airwaves.”

Sander raised his glass in a mock toast. “Now you know why. I may be the only man in Abarra—North or South—who communicates exclusively through hand-written letters.” He scrunched up his face. “I’ve got an old manual Underwood typewriter gathering dust in my study, but I can’t get ribbons for it anymore. And to be honest, I really prefer using my grandfather’s fountain pen.”

Discussing deep feelings with the Duke of Arse? I really need more wine to have this conversation. But maybe drinking more on an empty stomach was stupid. He set his glass aside and transferred the fish to the hibachi, topping them with a few sprigs of the wild rosemary he’d found rioting on the hillside.

When he turned back, Tarik was regarding him steadily with those midnight-dark eyes. “Everyone treats you that way, don’t they? Even if they don’t do it to your face. They approach you with a set of expectations and don’t bother to give you the chance to refute them.”

The muscles in Sander’s back tensed and his shoulders rose toward his ears. “They’ve got good reason.”

Tarik’s gaze didn’t waver. “No. I don’t think they do.”

Definitely need more wine. Sander brandished the wine thief. “Top up?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Tarik edged closer and placed a gentle hand on Sander’s forearm. “Sander. Tell me what really happened. Tell me about that day.”

“You mean the Disaster?”

“No. I mean the accident.”

Sander stared down at Tarik’s brown hand, so gentle on his skin. His palm wasn’t rough like Sander’s, although his fingernails showed the effects of their recent manual labor. He sucked in a shaky breath. Do I want to talk about this? I never talk about this. I never think about this if I can help it.

“I need to turn the fish,” he croaked.

Tarik nodded, squeezing Sander’s arm gently before releasing it. “All right.”

As Sander fumbled with the spatula, trying and failing to flip the fillets without breaking them, he kept glancing at that spot on his arm where the ghost of Tarik’s touch lingered. I should tell him the truth. So he’ll know how dangerous I really am. So he’ll know to keep his distance.

The memory of Tarik’s body, warm against his in the berth, resurfaced. I don’t want him to keep his distance. But that was exactly the reason why he should. Sander’s big, bluff father hadn’t kept his distance, so certain he could find a way to help where the Ministry had failed, and had paid the price.

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