by Cate Corvin
“Roman,” I snarled, whirling around. His ears were just returning to their usual human shape when I saw him clambering through the vines and overgrowth. “Why don’t you mind your business?”
“Everything that happens outside is my business,” he said, smirking when I looked away.
I hated him with every fiber of my being, but I couldn’t deny the pulse of heat in my lower belly when I saw his muscled body, all smooth dusky skin and a thick, perfectly-formed cock that I had way too much experience with already. “Looks to me like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
I hated that Roman’s bullshit had any power over me, but my stomach hurt when I thought of how well-matched Bloom was against Dominic, the way she looked up at him with heat in her eyes.
All I did in a match against him was stumble and gasp for air.
“Just go away.” I knelt in the grass to gather the daggers and sword and wiped the dew and crushed grass from the blades on my shorts. I didn’t have the energy to spare on arguing with him right now.
Roman leaned against a tree, watching me with a frown. “You lack confidence.”
I turned to glare at him, not caring if he was deliciously naked. “Excuse me?”
“Your stance is solid, but you’re afraid to strike. Bloom chops like she wants to take someone’s head off and knows she’s gonna make it. You swing like you’re afraid to make contact.”
My hands were trembling. So Roman admired Bloom, too? That hurt just as much as him telling me he didn’t want me. I don’t choose you, Lucrezia Darke. His words echoed in my head as my lip curled back.
“I’m sure I’m a total freak show for all of you to watch,” I said, the daggers clacking against each other in my shaking hands. “Not everyone grew up with a silver spoon in their mouth and a fucking sword right out of the cradle.”
“And here’s your opportunity, but instead of moving forward, you hold back and let another woman push you aside.”
The daggers fell to the grass and I pointed the sword at Roman, the tip trembling with my hand. The bitter taste of ashes filled my mouth. “Say another word.”
“You want to lose Steele to that? Gilt’s niece?” He nodded towards the rose garden where they’d disappeared together, his smile nastier than ever. “Imagine spending the rest of your life here, having to see him every day and knowing he’s fucking Ivy Bloom because you didn’t want to make the effort to win-”
The crackling flame in the depths of my soul exploded. Flames rushed through my veins, every cell in my body instantly hitting the boiling point.
Instead of disintegrating to ash in my glowing hand, the practice sword rippled with white-hot, consuming flames. It was made of rowan, designed to channel magic.
I wasn’t losing anyone to Ivy Bloom.
Roman’s smile pulled wider, his twilight-ice eyes reflecting the ripple of flame. “You don’t have the balls, Blondie. You can’t even stop another woman from stepping in and taking your man right out from under you.”
He threw himself aside when I struck. The blunted sword dragged across the tree trunk he’d been leaning on, leaving a seared black scar over the gray bark.
How dare he taunt me with my worst fear after what he’d done? The wildfire raged through me and hollowed out my bones, leaving them charred and blackened.
I turned on my heel, searching for Roman through the haze of fire shimmering around me. Embers drifted upward and died, their cold corpses riding the breeze as a fine ash.
A branch had whipped him across the chest when he’d moved, drawing a thin line of blood across his chest.
“Now you’re getting mad?” He raised his eyebrows, striding through the clearing and nudging the practice daggers with his bare foot. “Look at this- she even left you a mess to clean up like a maid. Do you think she’ll make you change the sheets after she fucks Steele on them?”
That image showed up in my head too clearly, driving a shard of bright pain right through my heart.
His wolf-form seemed to rip right through his skin when he fell forward on all fours, and the enormous black-and-cream wolf took off towards Cimmerian as I charged after him.
The practice sword wasn’t imbued with magic like a real enspelled rowan sword would be, and it began crumbling at the edges the next time I lashed out at Roman. He skirted the hedges and I followed, narrowing in on the crunching sound of paws ripping through gravel.
I chased him into the gardens, right past Professor Sweet’s morning Physical Training class. Holly watched with astonishment as Roman tore past the fountain and I followed on his heels, streaming wisps of fire behind me.
Professor Sweet’s shouted words fell on deaf ears as the wolf rounded the fountain, shedding his beast-skin in less than a second and panting on the opposite side.
His open grin was handsome, eyes glittering as he raised his hands and pulled the water from the fountain in a clear, sparkling curtain between us.
I held the sword at my side, growing ever lighter as the wildfire consumed it, but I knew instinctively in the primitive, bloodthirsty part of my mind that the wall of water was no match for me right now.
The wildfire swirled through my mind, consuming the little box I kept it trapped it, feeding on my fury and hurt.
The edges of the water iced over with Roman’s touch, and I drove the sword into it, pushing my wildfire into the rowan.
Steam gushed into the air and the wall between us evaporated. For some reason Roman hadn’t stopped smiling, which made me hate him even more, and he bit his lip as he conjured his own witchwater and flung it at me like a whip.
Ice kissed my bare legs, making me gasp. I raised the sword overhead, swinging for a solid blow, but the last of the blade disintegrated into ash in my hands.
Roman laughed, then gasped for breath in the dense fog of steam and ash around us. But he didn’t stop. “Think they’ll keep you on as their burden of a ward? You can be their redheaded stepchild.”
I didn’t need a sword to shut him up. My hands were incandescent with fire, the bones showing through the backs of my hands in dark lines. I reached out and parted the witchwater like a curtain, clouds of steam billowing under my palms.
My enemy’s eyes had gone pale as ice, running over me from head to toe. He licked his lips in a way that was both sexy and utterly infuriating.
“Not bad, Blondie,” Roman whispered, and hit me with what he’d been holding back.
Icy water struck at my face and blinded me. I stumbled backwards and a solid weight slammed into my chest, driving me into the gravel, and ice encased my entire body.
Within a matter of seconds, the wildfire had withdrawn from my limbs, driven back by the cold.
I blinked as frost formed on my cheeks, and my teeth began chattering as I looked up into Roman’s face. Instead of looking furious, he looked… euphoric.
With the consuming haze of my poisonous hate fading to the background, I realized that I’d deeply screwed up, attacking someone in plain sight, and that Roman was sitting buck-naked on my stomach.
And that fighting him, raging wildfire to frosty witchwater, was fucking exhilarating.
He leaned forward, licking his lips as he wiped ash-dark frost from my cheekbone.
“All you needed was a little direction and some hard truths, Blondie.” Ambient sound slowly returned to our little bubble of fury and ecstasy, where nothing existed but fire and ice. “Next time I see you fight him, you’d better be fighting like you fucking mean it. No more half-assing.”
Breath hissed through his teeth and he shifted, his bones melting and changing shape as cream-and-black hair burst through his skin.
Before the wolf tore off to the forest, he nuzzled my neck and licked my ear, and let out the chuffing sound I took to be a laugh.
Once he’d gone, I just laid on the gravel and shivered for several minutes, staring up into a swirling storm of embers and steam.
Several pairs of feet were approaching, and a gentle witchwind pushed the stea
m away, sending it swirling into the sky.
I sat up, droplets of melting frost streaming down my face and neck, and looked up at Professor Sweet, Professor Bloom, Dominic, and Daphne Vega.
The practice sword was a lump of charred wood and ash next to me. The white marble of the fountain was streaked black with soot. My hair and clothes were soaked with Roman’s witchwater.
I climbed to my feet, wiped my hands on my shorts, and started laughing. Not even seeing Bloom standing next to Dominic, her hand on his arm, could ruin the rapture of letting my wildfire loose to sear every inch of my soul.
I felt pretty damn good, clear-headed and at peace with the world, like all my emotions had been burned clean to start over for the day. And it was all thanks to Roman Dickhead Frost.
Chapter 6
Lu
“This is not something I would usually do for a first-year student, let alone one who’s been here for less than a month,” Headmistress Gilt sniffed, looking down her nose at me. I sat in one of the chintzy little chairs of her office, my wet clothes soaking the pink satin upholstery. “But sometimes a little freedom is a good thing, especially in a case like yours. But in return for destroying my fountain and taking up my servitor’s precious time, you will also do something for me.”
The smell of wet ash and woodsmoke filled her office and she wrinkled her nose. By the time Sweet had dragged me up to the Headmistress’s office, the euphoria was finally starting to wear down a little, and the first pang of anxiety came back.
What kind of punishment would she come up with for my loss of control?
Except… I hadn’t really lost control. I’d kept the wildfire contained around me, instead of sending my flames in all directions indiscriminately.
It was mostly because I’d been focused on getting in one solid strike on Roman, but the fact remained that on some level, I’d managed to do what I couldn’t before: I had contained the all-consuming destruction of my magic.
Now the Headmistress was looking at me in a way I didn’t much like, both calculating and eager. She’d already dispatched her human servitor, Anthony, down to the garden to clean the fountain and gravel. By the time he was done, it would be impossible to tell a fight had taken place there at all.
“Take a town pass this weekend, Miss Darke,” she said, flipping through a folio and scribbling something in red ink. “Go down to Waverly and get some fresh air.”
I sat frozen in my seat. Nobody ever got town passes, even if they were theoretically possible to win for good behavior. “I… really, Headmistress?” My voice ended on a squeak and I cleared my throat.
“Yes. Despite your choice of venue for your little spat, I’m pleased with your progress on containing your wildfire. But, as I said, it comes with a price. The local Historical Society has turned up some artifacts I would like eliminated. You will arrive there first, give your name, and destroy said artifacts with your wildfire. After that, feel free to spend your time in Waverly as you see fit.” Gilt gave me her signature toothy smile. Even when she was genuinely pleased, her velvety rasp made every hair on my body stand up straight. “I have very high hopes for you. The day Ashdarke gave you up was a good day for Giltglass.”
My insides twisted into a knot. Gilt was an expert at handing out the kind of compliment that felt like a knife to the gut.
“Thank you, Headmistress,” I murmured, opting for my usual deference.
If she was going to hand me the keys of freedom for two days, I wasn’t going to complain. Besides, I actually was running low on serviceable underwear thanks to Shane, and going into town would give me time away from Cimmerian to clear my head.
She waved her hand lazily. “Go on then, Miss Darke. Town pass begins Saturday at sunrise and ends Sunday at sunset. You need not be warned what punishment for breaking that curfew will entail, or for failing to complete your task.”
Gilt’s smile tightened, and my eyes flickered over her shoulder to the dark stain on the floral wallpaper of her office. Her Helping Hands were somewhere in there, waiting to add to that stain.
“Of course not, Headmistress,” I said, and made my escape with the prospect of freedom in hand.
I quickly showered and dressed and burst into Conjure and Exorcism half an hour late.
Dominic was back in place as Professor Steele, his hazel eyes running over me from head to toe.
My first instinct was to smile and apologize, the deferential ‘oops, so sorry’ student act I’d fallen into since I’d arrived, but then I remembered how he’d slipped into a different mode when he fought against Ivy Bloom. That was a side of him I hadn’t seen yet.
A side I might never get to experience firsthand.
The ghost of the smile on my lips died completely. I headed to my seat, pulled out my notebook, and started taking notes without looking up once.
I filled almost three pages with tight, perfect notes on the Gaelic fuathan before Dominic turned the class loose to begin their own research.
My heart picked up speed as he strolled through the classroom as he always did, but it was impossible for me to tell if it was from excitement at his nearness, or anxiety over the rift of secrets that seemed to be growing between us by the day.
I didn’t glance up when he passed, but he reached down and gripped my hand for a second, sliding a folded note between my clenched fingers. Then he walked away, the other students none the wiser, and I finally looked up and watched the way his broad shoulders moved, each step he took deliberate and precise like all things he did.
I unfolded the note in my lap, unsure of what to expect, and for the second time, something small and metallic fell out of one of Dominic’s notes. All the paper said was 72 Crescent Lane.
A modern silver key lay in my lap.
I snatched it up and clutched it hard enough to indent my palm, staring at Dominic’s back. When he circled the podium, his eyes landed on me, shadowed but determined.
With the address indelibly burned into my brain, I summoned the tiniest ember of wildfire and sent it zipping to my other palm, where it turned the paper to ash in seconds.
I slipped the key in the breast pocket of my jacket and wiped my hands clean, erasing any trace of Dominic’s message.
***
The next three days passed in a blur of hyper-focused concentration. Bloom attended both morning combat training sessions, but even she had to struggle to find something to pick at.
Thanks to Roman’s goading, I internalized every step Dominic taught me, not bothering to make conversation at all.
If he demonstrated something, I added it to my mental list of things to master with a grim sense of determination. If Bloom said something, I ignored her completely.
I left as silently as I arrived, grabbing the practice daggers and replacement sword and walking away without a glance back.
In Conjure and Exorcism, Dominic tried to touch me more than ever, even with the other students present. My single-minded dedication to fighting, studying, taking notes, and ignoring him seemed to disturb him a little.
He paced as he spoke, running his fingers through my hair when no one was looking, and on the third day made me stay after class to shelve used textbooks.
When his fingers glided up my spine and gently wrapped around my neck, my breath hitched and anticipation hummed through me, awakening a needy heat in my chest and between my thighs. I weakened under his touch, craving him with the kind of hunger I felt could never be satiated.
But only for a moment.
I would never bridge the gap if I let myself get swept away. I needed to learn to fight. I needed to be smarter. I needed be better if I wanted to achieve a mastery, or I’d always just be a runner-up in life.
He said nothing when I broke away and gathered my books for Divination, where I stared into the crystal ball so hard, I barely blinked for two hours.
I Saw nothing, not even the ghost in lace.
And then I went back to my room, where I fell into Shane’s arms and lips, lo
sing myself to his rough hands and driving need, the smooth sensation of his teeth running over my shoulders and breasts. He was thinking of marking me, his primal growls reverberating through my body.
I dug my nails into his shoulders, silently willing him to do it, no matter how bad the pain.
As though he sensed my determination to be marked permanently, he held back, clenching his teeth and rolling onto his back. I rode him hard, my hands splayed over his broad chest until he groaned, his cock pulsing.
I came with him, gasping his name as shudders wracked my entire body. Shane’s fingers dug into my hips, grinding me against him until the pleasure became too much and I collapsed against him. He buried his fingers in his hair, whispering in my ear how much he loved me.
“I love you, too,” I whispered. But I wished he’d place the bite, make it clear to the whole world that he was mine and I was his, and nothing and no one would ever come between that bond.
I fell asleep in his arms, tangled in satin sheets, and opened my eyes to a dream of Moira’s Forest.
A violet sea lapped at the edges of the trees and the clouds overhead glittered like they were studded with diamonds. My dreams in Cimmerian were always beautiful.
And they were made even more beautiful by the dark presence that walked through my mind. “Sunlight,” Locke said, his voice more melodic than ever.
He looked the way I imagined he’d look when he was well-fed, his bronze skin almost glossy with health, dark hair hanging over his back in silky waves. Even his amber eyes were lazy and heavy-lidded, glittering as he looked me over.
“Locke,” I breathed, striding across the carpet of emerald-beaded moss and throwing my arms around his waist. He was so tall, a fact that always took me by surprise in my dreams. In real life he rarely let me get that close. “Did it work?”
In the hazy way of the dreamscape, one moment I was standing, and the next I was hovering in midair, one hand supporting my head and the other under my waist.
He lowered me to the carpet of moss, settling the burly length of his body over mine.
