Of Wolves and Witches: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Arcane Arts Academy Book 1)

by Elena Lawson

  Regardless, I was completely certain. It didn’t matter that I thought it was impossible because it had happened. To me.

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Elias said, more to himself.

  I huffed. “You’re telling me.”

  His hand still circled my wrist, and with him so close, I could’ve sworn I could hear his heart beating. Loud and fast, but steady. His warm spice scent mingled with the smoky tang of burning wood, dragging a sigh from my lips and a shiver from my body.

  How could he not feel that?

  My magic awakened within me, buzzing in my veins as it came to life. It nudged my senses into overdrive and ignited a fire deep in my belly. The wild tendrils of it reached out from my core, tentatively stroking at the cage of my skin as if attempting to reach out to the man standing before me.

  He had to feel it too. He had to.

  “Sorry,” he said in a rush, letting me go to rub a palm against the scruff on his chin. He turned away before sitting down hard in the opposite chair at the table.

  “For what?”

  “I didn’t know you had bonded to them… I just—I heard you scream when I was on my way to the academy for dinner. I knew it was you,” he said, raising his head from where it was hung over spread knees to find my face. “I don’t know how I knew, but I just did. I wouldn’t have stepped in if I’d known.”

  I didn’t forgive him out loud. He had done the right thing. He knew it as surely as I did. There was no way he could’ve known.

  Because no one had ever bonded with a shifter before, or any of the other species either. We were bound to animals, not shifters, or vamps, or fae.

  “What do I do?” I asked, my eyes pricking and chin quivering.

  Without taking his eyes off me, Elias wove his fingers together at his front. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  My stomach dropped. I was sure my shock at his suggestion showed because he hurried to explain what he meant.

  “The bond may have somehow been superficial. Or maybe, it won’t forcibly draw you together like a normal bond between a witch and an animal would.”

  Normal bond.

  I clenched my hands into fists.

  “You don’t know that,” I argued, my voice laced with exasperation and something like rage.

  Elias shook his head. “Neither do you.”

  Wait, why was I arguing? Wasn’t this what I wanted? For him to agree not to tell anyone?

  He went to grab the kettle from the fire, bringing it over to the countertop to pour into a little brass teapot filled with loose-leaf tea. Earl Gray if my nose didn’t fool me.

  “Did you know that I’m new on the faculty?”

  Elias set the teapot and two cups on top of the mess of papers coating the table between us, gesturing for me to sit back down.

  I shook my head, wanting to tell him that I didn’t care he was new. And ask him why that mattered right now.

  “The last history professor who worked here died at the end of last term. Heart attack, I think it was. Anyway, I had already made something of a name for myself in the community because of my thesis on witch evolution—and the evolution of the other species. But really it boiled down to a case of me being in the right place at the right time. It was Sterling himself who offered me the job.”

  I cocked my head at him, sitting to take the tea he offered me.

  “So, are you saying you think my magic is more evolved… or that the shifters have somehow changed?”

  He curled two fingers into the handle of his mug, holding it tightly but not raising it to take a sip. “I don’t know, but either option is possible. And I’m probably the only person at the academy who would believe you.”

  “So?”

  “So,” he repeated, taking a long drink of his tea. “I have a proposition for you. I won’t tell anyone about what happened in the woods if you promise to come straight to me if or when they come looking for you.”

  He leaned in close. “Come to me and only me.” His storm cloud eyes practically burned a hole through me with their quiet intensity. “Do we have a deal?”

  Bianca was up studying when I got back that evening. She looked up from her notes with a worried expression, her hair still damp from the shower.

  I mumbled to her that I lost track of time studying in the library and needed to rush to get washed up before bed. I didn’t give her time to respond or to look too closely at me before I snagged a towel without asking and ran out the door.

  The lavatories were the only part of the old castle-like building that seemed to have been upgraded. When I entered, I was surprised to find newer looking plumbing and more modern stainless-steel fixtures. Large oval mirrors formed a perfect line over a bank of raised bowl sinks. There were eight shower stalls on either side of the wide room, closed off with thin white curtains.

  A few toilet stalls ran along the back wall, and benches formed a half-moon shape in the middle.

  The floors were wide terra-cotta tiles. And it was windowless. Steamy. The smells of fancy soaps mingled with the stagnant mildew smell of floors in a perpetual state of wetness. The air was humid from the mad rush to shower before lights out, but at least it was warm.

  It reminded me of the bathrooms at the campgrounds we often stayed at—granted this one was a bit nicer. Not for the first time that day, a black mood fell over me at the thought of my guardians. I wished they were here with me. But getting upset because they weren’t wouldn’t help. They’d freak if they knew what’d just happened to me in the woods.

  I shivered. The cold from outside had made a home in my chest and tissues. I was afraid not even a hot shower would help me be rid of it.

  There were only a few girls left, and they sat applying creams to their faces and brushing their hair, perched on the benches like pretty little birds.

  They grew silent when they saw me, and I’d rushed into one of the curtained stalls, praying none had looked too closely. There was definitely still mud caked into my hair. My slacks were covered in dirt, and the scrapes on my forearms still hadn’t fully healed.

  I felt like the bond I’d made with the two shifters in the woods was somehow written on my skin. Like if anyone looked too closely, they’d just know or smell it on me or something.

  I’ve always been a shit liar. And even more terrible at keeping secrets.

  So, when Bianca was oddly quiet the following morning, which was super out of character for her… I couldn’t help thinking she somehow knew where I’d been. Could somehow feel I wasn’t being honest. It was driving me insane.

  She kept glancing up at me through the mirror on her vanity, her eyes narrowed, a thoughtful, if not slightly confused look on her otherwise serene face. I thought maybe she was waiting for me to say something. To start a conversation. But she would be waiting a very long time for that. I was afraid to open my mouth for fear all of my secrets would come pouring out and I wouldn’t be fast enough to shove them all back in.

  I hadn’t had time to brush my hair when I returned from the showers the night before, the lights blinked out not more than a few seconds after I’d re-entered the room. At least the dark and the late hour gave me an excuse to not have to hold a conversation with Bianca, but it had made getting into my pajamas and into bed super difficult. I’d stubbed my toe twice before I finally found safety beneath the covers.

  After sleeping with damp hair washed with crummy shampoo and watery conditioner, brushing it was a nightmare and took nearly twenty minutes. Finally, I managed to get it to an acceptable level of neatness and pulled my headband into place. The wondered when I’d stop having to regret cutting bangs into my hair last year…

  Bianca’s creepy rabbit stared at me from atop her pillow, its pinkish red eyes seeming to almost glow. Its little whiskers twitched.

  “Does it always stare at people like that?”

  “Maybe Blanche knows she’s rooming with a liar, too.”

  And there it was.

  “What are you—”

 
Bianca turned on her cushioned stool and glared at me. “You weren’t in the library last night. You lied.”

  “How would—”

  “Because I was in the library.”

  I finished lacing my shoe, pulling the knot tight before I stood to square my shoulders at her. Scowling through the mad blush crawling up my neck. “So, what? Going to run and tell your uncle, then?”

  She made an ugly snarling face that managed to somehow also be hurt before she threw down her wide toothed ivory comb. “Is that what you think?” she snapped, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like a curse word under her breath.

  “It’s what everyone thinks! Always the same,” she mumbled, gathering up a pink notebook and a fluffy white pen. “Headmaster Sterling this, Uncle Sterling that. Bullshit.”

  And then she stormed out, leaving me standing there dumbfounded.

  I groaned when the morning bell assaulted my ears and I remembered history was my first class of the morning.

  7

  It wasn’t fair, I mused, pursing my lips from my seat at the back of the classroom. Having to watch him from his untouchable spot at the blackboard.

  The sun decided to show up to work today, heating the academy through the many tall windows, creating a sort of greenhouse effect that left the air hazy and just a bit too warm for comfort. I was sure there was a spell, or sigil, or some sort of incantation they generally used to cool it. Some sort of witchy air conditioning.

  But I was glad whoever was in charge of doing that hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Elias—er—Mr. Fitzgerald had removed his suit jacket, and I couldn’t help but notice the top button of his crisp white dress shirt was undone, showing off smooth tanned skin at the shallow dip of his collarbone. He didn’t look to be sweating at all. Which was so unfair.

  Even though I’d put on the weird kilt-like skirt that morning and had opted for a short sleeve blouse, I was still sweating.

  I brushed the hair from my neck, trying and failing to stare at what he was writing on the board instead of at him.

  The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, settling in the crease there. His biceps—I didn’t think I’d paid enough attention to them before.

  What a mistake that was.

  The thin white cotton material was stretched taut against the bulge of his arms, making him look more like a bodybuilder than a teacher.

  I licked my lips, suddenly wishing I’d stopped for a glass of water before class. One of these days I’d wake up in time for breakfast.

  My mouth was so dry.

  It’s so damned hot in here.

  “Harper?” Elias said, pointing at something he’d written on the board. And I got the feeling it wasn’t the first time he’d said my name.

  “Sorry I… I didn’t hear you. What was the question?”

  The trio of girls sitting two rows up giggled. The one with the pin-straight yellow hair turned in her seat to raise an eyebrow at me, snorting.

  Bitches.

  Elias cut the three girls a warning look, and they immediately faced front, their fingers clasped elegantly on the wooden surfaces of their desks.

  So, I wasn’t the only one to have a crush on Elias Fitzgerald then…

  Quickly, I skimmed what was written on the board in Elias’ neat handwriting.

  My jaw clamped shut at what I found, my toes curling in. Maybe it was because of what happened the night before, and maybe it wasn’t. But I was sure Elias sensed I didn’t know much about shifters… since I hadn’t even picked up on what they were before he told me.

  Either way, it seemed today’s lesson would be about the Enduran race.

  “What can you tell me about the Enduran race prior to the curse that made Emeris uninhabitable?”

  Several sets of eyes in the classroom turned, awaiting my response. Waiting for me to mess up or say the wrong thing. And I wouldn’t disappoint them.

  Living among gypsy-like vagabonds and humans my entire life made my knowledge in the subjects of ancient immortal history and things like alchemical science almost nil.

  What do you know? I asked myself, flailing around in my mind for some semblance of an acceptable response.

  I knew that before the curse infected the land of Emeris and the people on it, vampires were just Vocari—a race of people who could compel the thoughts and actions of others through speech. And shifters were known as Endurans. A warrior race blessed with uncommon strength and speed. But I didn’t really know much else.

  “Well, they were one of the three races on Emeris—before the curse made the immortal land uninhabitable. They were strong and fast, but they weren’t ruled by the moon, and they weren’t yet able to shift.”

  Elias nodded, his deep blue eyes showing approval. “Very good, thank you.”

  He turned to the rest of the class. “And what can the rest of you tell me about how the Enduran race has changed since then?”

  The yellow-haired girl piped up, raising her hand, but not waiting for permission to speak. “They’re more impulsive,” she offered, a note of distaste in her nasally voice. “They’re known to be a small-minded sort of people. Unable to control their urges to shift in the presence of a full moon.”

  “In your opinion, Kendra, they’re a lesser species,” Elias responded. Not so much a question as it was a statement.

  The guy sitting in front of Kendra leaned back in his chair. “The curse made the Endurans slaves to the moon, and made the Vocari unable to walk in sunlight,” he said, turning to wink at Kendra. “It made them into beasts—monsters. They’re more like animals than people.”

  Elias looked disappointed, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was. Neither of the other students had acknowledged the role the alchemist race—our race—had played in making them the way they are today.

  If it weren’t for what our ancestors did, the other two races of Emeris wouldn’t be cursed.

  There wouldn’t be this animosity between races.

  Who knew where we’d be then? Maybe we’d all still be back on Emeris. The land might not have fallen into plague and darkness. Maybe when the Vocari took back the throne all those years ago, they’d have ruled peacefully.

  Perhaps our races would’ve someday found a way to put aside our differences. To live and work together toward a better future.

  But we’d never know. Time-travel was the most forbidden form of magic there was. And even the knowledge of it and how to do it was locked up in the original Codex. Lost, or maybe destroyed? I couldn’t remember. But I knew the Codex, and all the original alchemical texts it contained, were gone.

  “Yeah,” the girl named Kendra said. “Everyone knows that.”

  My brows raised, and a lick of disgust made me flinch. They were so naïve. So holier-than-thou and all that bullshit. If they took just one second to step down off their high horses, they’d see we were the ones who had behaved more like animals. Or at least, our ancestors sure as hell did.

  There were many different beliefs among our kind. Some thought themselves better than the other races and looked down on them as though they were animals, or bugs, to be squashed under polished leather boots. That same group also thought of humans in a similar light. It was why the Council had forbidden witches to take mortal lovers. Well, that and something else about impure bloodlines in the future of our kind.

  There were others, too, who lived a magic-free life. A sort of penance for what our ancestors did.

  The last sect was the most radical. All of them were of a resolute mind that all races should come out to humans. That we should make ourselves known to them and stop living a life in hiding among the shadows. They thought we should fully integrate with the humans and protect them from the other races.

  In a way it did make sense. We could never go back to our immortal homeland. It was dead and gone. And the only other land shrouded from view by humans was inhabited by Fae, and we weren’t welcome there either.

  Our ancestors burnt all the
damned bridges.

  So, it was the mortal lands or bust.

  Over the last near one thousand years we’d done our best to make a home for ourselves here, but that last sect of witches believed that a home could never be a home if you had to hide in it.

  I didn’t really care either way. But if I was being honest, I didn’t really trust humans either.

  As the rest of the class nodded or voiced their agreement with the yellow haired Kendra and the buff-looking jock dude, it was easy to guess which sect made up the majority of the academy. Not surprising.

  Elitist pricks.

  “I think it’s sort of beautiful,” Bianca said into the stagnant air, eliciting a few gasps from the other students, and gaining herself the full attention of Mr. Fitzgerald.

  She fidgeted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the rest of the witches in attendance. “I mean,” she continued, floundering. “Wouldn’t it be cool to turn into a wolf?”

  “No,” Kendra said, her top lip curling back over freshly whitened teeth. “Why would anyone want to turn into a stupid, flea covered dog? Gross.”

  Bianca’s shoulders slumped, and even though she didn’t turn around, I saw the red stain of an embarrassed blush working its way up the back of her neck. I watched as she fisted her hands beneath her desk.

  “Why don’t you tell us, Kendra?” I blurted. “Since the only bitch I see in here is you.”

  The class collectively held its breath. Buff jock guy whistled low between his teeth, and Kendra looked near ready to implode as she rose from her desk and turned to face me, staring down at me with bared teeth. “You better watch yourself new girl—”

  I was sure she was about to go off on some sort of tirade about how she was so important and how I was so, well… not. But she was saved from having to waste her precious time by the bell, and I was saved from having to listen to her crap.