Bluestone Elites (A Paranormal Bully Academy Romance)

by Klarissa King

  The sound of James’s chair scrapes over the floor as he grabs his tray. “I’m feeling dizzy,” he says. “I’m going to the infirmary.”

  None of us have the energy to play along with his latest sickness, so Courtney just waves him off with a lazy goodbye. I ignore him.

  As soon as he’s out of earshot, and it’s just us girls, Courtney peels her head off of her folded arms and looks at me with heavy eyes.

  “What happened to you last night?” she says, and shit does she sound rough. “You weren’t in the dorm this morning.”

  I've been thinking of lies all morning for this very question. I came up with nothing. Still, I can't tell her the truth. I can barely admit it to myself.

  "I passed out in the common room," I say. It's not a lie. Well, not a complete one.

  But it turns out that Courtney has secrets of her own.

  “I kissed Brad,” she confesses. “He was so drunk; I don’t think he knew what he was doing. I was drunk. But ... I kissed Brad,” she repeats it with a shudder.

  I can't do anything else but stare at her, wide-eyed. Now is not the time to admit what I did, no. Now is the time to judge my closest friend for kissing my brother.

  Torn between laughing and booting her off her chair, I just slump forward on the table and eye the teapot in front of me. Someone needs to fill it and I'll be damned if that someone is me.

  Lolly lifts her head a bit and watches me. “Didn’t you leave with Dray?”

  I stare at her, hard. “Why do you say that?”

  “I thought I saw you leave with him. You were awful sick.”

  See, this is why I don’t overly adore Lolly. She’s as ditzy as a krum, sees too much, and has a big mouth. Never knows when to shut it either.

  “I was sick,” I agree. “And he took me to the common room.”

  Courtney is watching me, hard. The suspicion rakes down my face, like a raw egg cracked over my head.

  “But you have a boyfriend,” Lolly says, “Don’t you? Isn’t Eric your boyfriend?”

  I kick her under the table. She winces, a bewildered look on her face, and crouches down to rub her shin. It’s too late now anyway. Courtney’s piercing stare can almost bring a candle to Dray’s from a few tables down. I don’t doubt he’s eavesdropping and just heard Lolly land me into a boiling cauldron of crap.

  “That’s great,” I mutter, then finish off the last of my tea. I shoot her a withering glance. “Thanks for that, Lolly.”

  She looks confused. “You’re welcome?”

  I shake my head, already exhausted from her company. The more she hangs out with us, the harder it’ll be to keep hold of my wilting patience.

  “Tell me she’s wrong,” Courtney hisses at me.

  “She’s wrong,” I clip with a curt shrug. “What do you want me to do, Courtney? We like each other, we’re hoping to be engaged, so what’s the harm—”

  “He’s a teacher.”

  “Don’t take this personally—” I level my stare with hers, “—but sometimes your uptight krum side really shows.”

  Her face is like stone, terribly different to the murderous look Dray wears still a few tables down. With the way he’s looking at me, like he wants to pulverise me into a mince pie, it’s like he’s sitting with us and can hear everything we’re saying, even when we talk quietly. I suspect some makut here.

  “How long?” Her voice is cold like ice.

  “It’s only been going on a few weeks,” I tell her. “It’s not serious—we’re just … I don’t know, hoping my father will pick him as a worthy suitor.”

  She shakes her head and brings her fingers to her temples. “A teacher,” she parrots. “What the hell are you thinking?”

  “Oh, just that he’s a nice person, respectful, and actually cares about me. I’m thinking that maybe I don’t want to be married off to some stranger who doesn’t give two pennies about me. Guess that makes me a horrible person.” I push up from my chair, the room is instantly spinning. But I do my best to glower down at her. “If that makes me a bad person, then call me the devil.”

  Ignoring Dray’s molten gaze that’s latched onto me, I storm out of the mess hall.

  *

  Ink-stained paper scatters over the desk as I’m pushed against it. Eric is nestled between my legs, his hand under my silk blouse, fingertips running over my waist.

  My only reprieve from the mundane is Eric.

  It’s been weeks, weeks of Courtney in a huff with me, and Dray snubbing me entirely. James has predictably gone back to staying in the infirmary claiming stomach-aches. Outside of Eric, only Lolly seems to have the time for me.

  I can’t jeopardise it by admitting what I’ve done with Dray. Besides, every time I try to pluck up the courage to tell him, my hands go sweaty and my voice fails me. I won’t risk months of dating Eric for someone like Dray, whether I was wrong or not. Some things are better left unsaid.

  Still, I feel no guilt as his warm tongue sweeps over mine and his grip tightens on my waist. His mouth leaves mine and does its routine trip down my neck. I stare ahead at the office door, firmly shut, and recall the kiss with Dray, its passion, its tenderness, the tingles it erupted my body with.

  Now, Dray’s gone back to treating me like a stain on the rug. He is as cold and distant as ever. It’s not a good sign. It just means the cycle is restarting. Hell, he likely hates me more now than ever because of our drunken night together. The self-important, arrogant, ancient blood probably hates himself a little for messing around with a deadblood. So, I expect an attack (or, in his eyes, a counterattack) any day now. I actually expect it to come next weekend, at the Halloween Ball.

  What better way to humiliate me than in front of the entire senior year and faculty?

  I just hope whatever he has up his sleeve doesn’t mess with my dress. My mother just sent it. A blue sundress with a white pinafore, the full get-up for Alice from Wonderland. Maybe I altered it a little to be a bit shorter. Still, I put a lot of work into that costume and I dread the thought of anything ruining it.

  “You’re distracted,” Eric says as he draws back to study me. “It’s like kissing a wall.”

  I snort. “I hope I taste better than a wall.”

  His smile is small, forced. He knows I’m just not into it today. “You should get some rest tonight,” he tells me and slips out of my loose hold. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I slide off the table’s edge and grab my satchel. As I sling the strap over my shoulder, I peck a kiss on his cheek, then head back to the dorms.

  Eric was right. I’m just too distracted at the moment. My mind is stuck on Dray and that kiss in the common room, on the flower he blossomed in his hand, on his words—

  It’s always been you.

  I don’t know why I’m obsessing over that night. I have to let it go, throw it out of my mind, but I just can’t seem to forget it. In class, in Eric’s arms, in the mess hall, the memories invade my mind like a battalion.

  Then, finally, the thoughts are whacked out of my mind as if punched. The door to my dorm room is ajar and through the crack, I see what’s become of my costume. It’s in tatters all over the floor, torn from the mannequin-torso in the corner. I push open the door all the way and see Courtney on her knees, trying to clean up the remains of my dress. The pinafore looks like confetti sprinkled over a blue sea.

  She glances up as I step inside. “I’m sorry, O,” she says softly. “I found it like this.”

  My satchel thuds to the floor and I lean back against the wall. I just look at the white and blue scraps. There’s no salvaging them, the costume is utterly destroyed. It wouldn’t bother me so much if I hadn’t spent so long altering it to my form and if the material wasn’t so expensive.

  “I saw Melody Green in the corridor,” she tells me. “I think it was her.”

  Melody isn’t a senior—she shouldn’t be in this corridor at all.

  I sigh and slide down the wall until I’m slumped on the floor. “We need a lock,�
� I mutter, running my fingers over the scraps. “And I need a new costume, like yesterday. There’s no way I can order one in time. It’s next weekend.”

  And we’re in the middle of the Swiss Alps. Deliveries aren’t express around here.

  “You could always go to the party as a krum,” she suggests weakly and, with a throw-away look at her cupboard, she adds, “You can wear my krum clothes.”

  I make a face at the thought of lumpy sweaters and baggy denim trousers. “No thanks.”

  Courtney sighs. “I don’t know what else you can do.”

  “I’ll make another costume,” I say and pick myself up off the floor. “And get us locks for the door.”

  “I know you’re good with threads and needles, but what costume can you make from scratch in just over a week?”

  I shrug and pick through the books spilled out over the floor beside the reading chairs. All krum books full of magic-inspired stories.

  “Something simple. I can alter some of my own clothes. Make a rabbit costume or something.”

  Courtney’s mouth bunches to the side, but she doesn’t argue. She doesn’t argue once over the next few nights that I spend working on my costume. I stick to the same story, Alice in Wonderland, but without the material to make a pinafore, I’m left with making a rabbit costume. Brad lends me his pocket watch, I cut out a waistcoat from one of my more worn-out school blazers. It takes a week but it turns out perfectly. I’ve turned an old, school skirt into shorts, attached a pair of tights, and bring-in an ivory blouse for the shirt under the waistcoat.

  All it took was sacrificing my night-dates with Eric and avoiding a building pile of homework to finish it, but I’m pleased and wouldn’t have it any other way. I even like this costume better than my Alice one.

  The night before the Halloween Ball, I hurry down to the basement corridors to see Eric. I find him in his office, and he wears a relieved smile when he sees me slip in from the doorway.

  I kick the door shut behind me. “Finished my costume,” I say.

  “Is it too much to hope you finished your assignment, too?” He sets his pencil down on the table.

  I laugh. “Forget the assignment, I just made a whole costume from scratch, and I still have the time to come see you. That alone should earn me a top grade.”

  I wander over to the desk and perch myself between him and the edge. Soft, cinnamon eyes latch onto mine as he makes to rise from the chair. I push my foot against his chest, holding him down.

  “Where do you sleep?” I ask him and I let the suggestion linger between us.

  He takes a moment, a pause of hesitation, before he turns his gaze to the door in the corner. I always thought it was a cupboard.

  He looks back at me. “Through there.”

  I push away from the table and wander over to the door. As I crack it open, I catch the faint flicker of lit lanterns first, their orange glows casting shadows over the plain room. It matches the dorms closely, without the shared-room aspect.

  Looking back at him, I see how closely he watches me, and the hesitation is still flickering in his honey eyes.

  “Show me around?” I ask.

  He pushes up from the chair and, with a backwards glance at his half-finished work, he follows me into his chambers. I aim straight for the bed, peeling off a piece of clothing with every other step, until I’m in my underwear and falling onto the mattress. I roll onto my back and watch him. He unbuttons his shirt, but the doubt still shimmers in his eyes. He’s fighting himself, because the line we’re about to cross is one that can get him fired from his apprenticeship.

  I don’t give him the chance to back out.

  I reach out for him and, gripping his arm, drag him on top of me. I help him slip off the last of his clothes.

  Nestled snug between my legs, Eric’s mouth catches mine in a long, soft kiss that tickles my belly. His shaft has slipped perfectly into place, waiting to push forward, as his hand slides down to my breast.

  He nudges himself in. My breath hitches against his mouth. Slowly, I spread my legs farther apart and run my feet up along the back of his thighs.

  I encourage him with a smile. He doesn’t see it as he buries his face at the crook of my neck and slips his arms around me. He holds me tightly against him. His embrace is sweet, gentle, but somewhat distracted.

  Eric slips in and out of me slowly, his rhythm leisurely. It doesn’t bring a whole lot of pleasure for me. It’s nice and all, but he’s not paying much attention to my pleasure.

  Slow, fluid thrusts fill me, feeling his hot breaths against my neck. It’s pleasant enough. But as I try to angle myself to feel the friction, I can’t quite get it right, so all I do is run my hands up and down his back.

  Gradually, he picks up the pace. It’s not painful, but it’s uncomfortable. My face twists as I stare at the wood ceiling. I feel his face frown with pleasure against my neck, and his groans start to grow louder and faster.

  I encourage him with a faint, fake moan. It works, and he’s climaxing instantly. His entire body juts against mine, then freezes over.

  “I—”

  Whatever he was going to say is interrupted as another wave of pleasure runs over him. He buries himself inside of me to the hilt, and I make a mental note to take a contraceptive potion later.

  “I love you,” he whispers against my neck.

  My face falls and I stare, wide-eyed, up at the ceiling. For a beat, I’m still, my hands unmoving on his back, and I don’t know what to say until the lie comes to me.

  “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 7

  I’m not at all surprised by Dray’s costume. He suits it better than anyone else I know.

  Wolves, Witches, and Wiccans is an old fairy-tale from the witching world. It was his favourite growing up, and I guess it still is.

  Wiccans, in the story, are krums who think they have magical powers. Wiccans gathered in the woodlands and tried their hands at rituals. And that is where the wolves came out to devour them—wolves that belonged to the true witches. It’s a dark story of wolves and witches hunting wiccans, a dark story with a whole lot of dark meaning, and Dray just ate that up as a kid. He still thinks krums are worthless and should be wiped out. So choosing his costume wouldn’t have been hard for him.

  He leans against the wall in the foyer, Brad and Landon at his sides. His black attire is inky and he wears a masquerade wolf-mask to cover the top half of his face.

  With the contrast of the black and his porcelain-white skin and mask, his silvery eyes look even more sinister than ever.

  I hate myself for my weakening knees. If things were different, I would swoon over him like most of the other girls at Bluestone, but things are the way they are and I have to try harder to hold onto that rod of pure hatred.

  His piercing blue eyes cut through the mask’s holes and follow me as I climb down the staircase with Lolly and Courtney. I’m expecting his revenge tonight for many reasons, but it’s confirmed when I see his hands fist in his pockets and his muscles tense, as if hatred for me is washing over him in a violent wave and he has to stand strong against it.

  I tug at the hem of my skin-tight shorts and follow the girls into the assembly hall. I’m struck silent at the sight of it. Usually, it’s the younger years who come to the assembly hall for things like orientation, but tonight it belongs to the seniors and half of the staff.

  The wood walls ooze blood. The wooden panels suck in on themselves, then bloat and out comes a thick river of blood that rolls to the floors to make puddles.

  The ceiling sparkles like a night sky, but the harder I look, the more it’s obvious that it’s strung-up velvet painted with pearlescent blots to mimic stars.

  Orange and black streamers ribbon down from the wooden ceiling fixtures, and at the ends, there’s an array of pumpkin heads and skeletons that look too real, down to the beige tones of bone.

  Under the magical ceiling, seniors—and some younger students invited as dates—dance in time with the ba
nd tucked in the far corner, where the staff table sits covered in a tar-like, bloody substance.

  Beside them, there’s a fortune teller draped in smoke and shadows, then the face of a haunted-looking house. Thunder clouds boom above the haunted house and flashes of lightning illuminate the still-figure standing at the door in a torn wedding dress. Occasionally, the creepy bride breaks out in a long, ear-splitting scream.

  I stay clear of that.

  We head over to the punch-station, where eyeballs and fingers float in blood-red juice. I hope they’re edible, because quite a few end up in my chalice.

  With a sour face, I spot Melody Green across the hall, wearing scraps that are bound to her body, barely. I think she’s supposed to be a mummy, but I don’t recall coming across a krum story with a mummy character. I think she chooses the costume because it’s a revealing one.

  My suspicions are closely confirmed when I spot her making fuck-me eyes at Dray across the hall. He doesn’t so much as look her way and as soon as our gazes catch, I turn my back on him and move through the crowd. The more distance I can put between us, the safer I’ll feel.

  As we wind and weave our way through the throngs of witches, we pass a small huddle of teachers. Eric is one of them and I want him to get a good look at my skin-tight costume. My skin is covered, unlike Melody’s, but it’s not like I’m wearing the sort of costume my parents would approve of.

  I pretend to trip and bump into him. “Oh, sorry, Mr. Digger,” I say and straighten myself out.

  He makes to brush me off as a student, but his gaze catches my costume and he’s left silenced, his lips parted in shock.

  “Ms. Laurent,” drawls Master Milton, and her eyes narrow like cat’s morning eyes, into thin slits. She takes in my costume with a hint of disdain. “A rabbit,” she says. “From which tale?”

  “Alice in Wonderland,” I tell her, and feel the heat of a blush crawling along my cheekbones. I pull up the waistcoat some, as if it will do anything to shield my cleavage from her disapproving look.