by Tara West
Teju snapped his fingers under her nose. “What is the spell to compel someone to do what you want?”
Serah bit her lip. Everything made her horny lately, from her mates’ spicy, sulfuric scent to their broad chests and tanned, rippling muscles. All they had to do was look at her, and her libido sprang to life. The condescending smirk Teju was giving her made her nipples tighten and her inner goddess awaken.
She slapped sand off her tail. “I don’t need a spell. I stopped a war and donated five million merlins to the school.”
“Serah. Dame Doublewart can’t be bought. You know this.”
Ha! Who did he think he was fooling? Everyone could be bought.
“Serah’s right,” Draque said as he trudged through the sand toward them, a cooler of beer in one hand and a tall lemonade in the other. He kissed her forehead and handed her the lemonade. “Do you seriously think Doublewart will want to put up with us another year?”
Teju’s shoulders slumped. “No, but that doesn’t mean she’ll pass us.”
“I’m exhausted.” Shifting into human form, she got up on her knees and rubbed her slightly swollen belly. “We’ve been studying all day.”
“Considering all the breaks you’ve been taking,” he said wryly, “we’ve only been studying a few hours.”
She grinned and let Thelix take over her. “Pleasure me,” she said to Teju, pleased when he threw down his wand and fell to his knees. She eagerly shifted back into human form.
Draque chuckled and stripped out of his clothes. “I’m next.”
Ladon threw off his shorts. “This is way more fun than studying.”
“You didn’t have to use your siren voice.” Teju said. “I’d have licked your pussy anyway.” He dragged his tongue across her slick folds, and she sank into the sand, her eyes rolling back. Hot damn, she loved being their mate.
SERAH DIDN’T KNOW WHY she was nervous when Dame Doublewart called them into her portable office. It’s not like the headmistress would deliver bad news to the school’s biggest, and only, benefactor.
Holding Ladon’s hand, she followed her mates up the wobbly ramp and into the trailer. The entire school was currently made up of portables until workers finished construction on the main building.
To her delight, Dame Doublewart had laid out tea and cakes. She shouldn’t have worried. Clearly the headmistress had brought them here to thank them. She helped herself to a teacake covered in white chocolate topped with raspberries and cream. She ate it way too fast, not even caring if she looked like an insatiable troll in front of her mates. She’d been hungry all day, no doubt from expending all that brain energy on her tests. They were a lot harder than she’d expected, making her wonder if she should’ve listened to Teju and studied more.
Too late now. Besides, Doublewart couldn’t fail her most generous benefactor. She thanked Ladon when he handed her a cup of tea. It was delicious, with just the right amount of sugar. She smiled into her cup. Though she wouldn’t miss the strict teachers and the interminably dull homework, at least school was ending on a positive note.
As soon as everyone was seated around Doublewart’s desk, the headmistress cleared her throat and addressed Teju. “Our potions teacher is leaving at the end of the school year. Dr. Clawfoot is taking her place, which means I’ll need a sorcery and spells teacher to take her place. I prefer to fill my job vacancies with former students. Are you interested?”
Serah’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t been expecting that. She beamed at Teju, proud of her wickedly smart mate.
Teju was surprised. “Me?”
His brothers hooted and hollered, slapping his back and congratulating him.
Dame Doublewart remained impassive except for a slight twitch above one eyebrow. “You’d have to take the teacher certification exam, but I’m sure you can pass it in your sleep. If you have other things to do, I understand, but it would be a shame for you not to share your brilliance with our students.”
His brilliance! She sat on the edge of her seat and reached for Teju’s hand. When he entwined his fingers through hers, she kissed his knuckles, happy for her mate.
“I’m flattered,” he said. “I’ll have to talk to my family, especially Serah, before making a decision.”
Dame Doublewart looked at Serah, thoughtfully rubbing her chin. “There is also a secretarial position open.”
Serah’s eyebrows rose. “Lady Hoofenmouth is leaving?”
Dame Doublewart folded her hands on the desk. “She’s going to live in Sawran with Miss Bubblebosom.”
“Oh?” She’d heard rumors that Lady Hoofenmouth had once been Dame Doublewart’s lover. She wondered how the headmistress was taking the news. She squirmed under the weight of Dame Doublewart’s heavy glare. She was not cut out for secretarial work. After graduation she wanted to spend more time with her family at Siren’s Cove, not answer phones and deal with bratty teens.
“Thanks for asking,” she said, “but I don’t think I’m secretary material.”
“I wasn’t asking you.” Dame Doublewart snorted. “I was asking Ladon.”
She jerked. “Oh.”
“You failed the sorcery and spells final exam.” Dame Doublewart’s mouth twisted as if she’d sucked on a sour lemon. “Looks like you’ll be here one more year.”
What the ever-loving fuck?
She sneered at Draque when he laughed. “Thanks a lot, asshole.”
“You failed, too, Draque.” Dame Doublewart sipped her tea. “Three classes.”
He shot from his chair, steam pouring from his nose. “What?”
“Perhaps with your brothers on staff, you’ll be motivated to study harder,” she said wryly.
Serah and Draque shared horrified looks, then she threw up her hands in exasperation. “B-But I donated all that money to rebuild the school.”
“And I can’t thank you enough.” Dame Doublewart’s smile was so tight, it appeared to be etched in stone. “Certainly you didn’t intend that money to be a bribe?”
“N-No.” She struggled for the right words to say. “But I thought—”
“You thought what?” The headmistress stood, peering down at Serah over her hook nose. “That I would do you the disservice of letting you graduate without getting a proper education?”
Draque mumbled a curse. “I can’t be a twenty-one-year-old senior.”
“And you can’t be an uneducated father either.” The headmistress inclined her head to Serah.
Her hand flew to her abdomen. She’d worn loose shirts and pants, and she only had a slight poof. How did her headmistress know? “Who told you?”
“Nobody.” She chuckled. “You have the glow, which puts me in a predicament. Never before have I allowed my staff to sleep with the students.” She gave Ladon and Teju pointed looks and then heaved a sigh that sounded staged. “I suppose I will have to allow one exception, as long as you keep it on the down-low.”
Draque paced. “Holy troll turds!”
Dame Doublewart banged her wand on the desk, making Draque jump. “My sentiments exactly.” She turned to Teju and Ladon again. “Well? Are you going to accept my offer, or do I need to look elsewhere?”
Teju looked at Serah, who gaped at him. She’d flunked her senior year, and her mate was going to be her teacher? How fucked up was that? Last time she’d had sex with a teacher, she’d been expelled from school.
Teju stood and held out his hand. “I’ll accept.”
Ladon did the same. “Me, too.”
Burying her face in her hands, Serah slumped in her seat.
“Excellent. I’ll see you this fall. Have a wonderful summer.”
Peering through the cracks in her fingers, Serah saw Dame Doublewart standing by the door, impatiently waving them toward the exit.
Ladon helped her up and escorted her to the door, at which point, she finally found her voice. “Wait!”
Dame Doublewart smiled. “Don’t try to use your siren voice on me.”
Blowing out a breath o
f frustration, she marched back and snatched a teacake off the table, stuffing it in her pocket. Then she grabbed another one for good measure. “I paid for the damn things,” she snapped, raising her chin as she stalked out.
By the time her mates caught up to her, she’d traversed the length of the cemetery and was almost to Werewood Forest.
“Serah, wait!” Teju pulled her to a halt and looked into her eyes.
“What?” She regretted her tone when she saw the hurt in his eyes. “Sorry.” She slumped onto a tree stump. “I can’t believe we’re stuck here another year.”
Teju sat beside her and pulled her hands into his lap. “It won’t be so bad.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Not for you.”
“I’ll tutor you.” His enthusiasm sounded forced. “Every night. And if you study hard....” His eyes gleamed mischievously. “I’ll reward you.”
Electricity raced up her spine. “With your tongue, I hope.”
He nibbled her ear. “Lots of tongue.”
Clutching his collar, she moaned. Nobody licked pussy like Teju. Maybe having him as her professor wouldn’t be so bad.
“Hey, guys, come look at this.”
Ladon and Draque were at the edge of the forest, squinting at something on the ground. Teju and Serah joined them.
“Fresh dragon tracks,” Teju said. Jaw dropping, he looked at his brothers. “How can this be?”
Serah’s hand flew to her throat when she saw a massive four-toed print followed by another and another, the trail leading into the forest.
Draque rubbed his bearded chin. “Were any of you out last night?”
“You know we weren’t,” Teju answered.
“Who is it?” Ladon rasped.
Draque stepped to one side, eyeing the print from another angle. “Whoever it is has a limp.”
Teju followed the tracks until they vanished in the underbrush. Sinking onto his knees, he looked at them as if he’d seen a ghost. “We must alert our fathers. Thaddeus is alive!”
The End.
Dear readers, I hope you enjoyed my new series. Be looking for School of Stolen Secrets, Academy for Misfit Witches, Book Two, January 2020.
Dear readers, I hope you are enjoying my dragons and sirens as much as I love writing about them. If you could, please leave a review where you purchased this book. Your reviews help other readers find my books, so indie authors like me can keep writing. I don’t care if it’s short and simple. All that matters is that you leave a review. Thanks so much!
In the meantime, enjoy a sample from my completed fun and naughty PNR series, Eternally Yours. Book one, Divine and Dateless, won the eFestival of Words Best Romance. Book two won the Coffee Time Romance Book of the Year. I promise plenty of panty-melting fun.
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Divine and Dateless
Eternally Yours, Book One
Tara West
Chapter One
DAMN, THAT HURT.
I grabbed onto the bathroom counter and slowly pulled myself up, stumbling around a bit before I steadied myself against the wall and turned off the faucet. That's when I got a good look at my reflection in the mirror.
Omigod!
Despite the fact that my reflection was a bit blurry, probably due to how hard I’d hit my head when I fell, my hair looked like an electrified mop. I couldn't go on a date like that! Roger would take one look at me, accuse me of faking my profile picture, and make a dash for the elevator. As if I wouldn't have a hard enough time explaining why I was five years older and five (okay, ten) pounds heavier than that Bahama bikini photo.
I sighed when I thought back to the girl getaways I used to take with Jodi, Trista, and Sheri. Those had been amazing times: margarita binges, detox shakes, size-five bikinis, one-night stands and ribbed condoms. I’d taken that photo after an amazing night with the Swede, Rolf or Sven or something like that. His name didn't matter. What did matter was his size-thirteen shoe and big hands, very big hands. Speaking of that beach fling, we could have made a long-distance relationship work, if only he'd spoken English, or at least hadn't pretended he couldn't understand me.
I wondered about the size of Roger's hands. Did he have a strong grip like my surly Swede? Or were they perfectly manicured like my last date, Craig the hair stylist, who was one wax and peel away from escaping the closet of denial and giving his very religious grandma a heart attack. If only Craig had listened to me when I suggested he come out to his granny and then smooth things over by offering her a free pluck and color.
I tried to slick my hair back in place, but the strands felt as unmanageable as a wire brush. What the hell? I hoped that shock hadn't done any permanent damage to my follicles. I had just spent a small fortune at the salon for auburn highlights and a deep conditioning treatment. No more putting it off: next paycheck I would go to the drugstore and get another blow-dryer. This wasn't the first time it had zapped me, but it was definitely the worst.
I whirled at the sound of a knock on the door. Was Roger here early? I stumbled out of the bathroom and checked the microwave clock in my cramped studio kitchen. Six thirty-six. He was twenty-four minutes early! What was I going to do about my hair?
I rushed to the kitchen sink and splashed some water on my hair and tried again to push it down, but it must have been spring-loaded because it popped right back up.
More knocking. This time it was louder and more persistent.
What the heck, Roger?
The guy wasn't exactly making a good first impression.
"Okay, okay," I groaned as I grabbed a hair band from the gym bag I kept by the front door.
I read somewhere that keeping a packed gym bag in a convenient location was good motivation to keep on a steady workout schedule. So far, it was working, because I'd been steadily going to the gym once every two or three months.
I did my best to tie my hair back while trying to tamp down my aggravation as the incessant knocking grew ever louder. Grabbing the door handle, I exhaled slowly. I was so tempted to tell Roger the date was off, but I was haunted by the echo of my mom's familiar nagging voice.
“You're too picky, Ash. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Perfect is a fairytale. Settle down before all the decent ones are taken.”
I laughed as I recalled being in my early twenties when my mom had encouraged me to be pickier about whom I brought home. But that was ten (okay, fifteen) pounds ago, and that was way before Travis dumped me for his forty-seven-year-old law school professor. Lately, as long as the guy had all his teeth and a functioning penis, Mom was trying to rush me to the altar.
The unremitting knocking turned into all-out banging.
Damn, Roger! As if I don't have enough problems with my neighbors.
I was so aggravated, I didn't even bother to check the peephole before jerking open the door.
"Is that really necessary?" I growled before I got a good look at him. But then I did get a good look at my date, and my jaw practically hit the floor. Wow, he looked nothing like his profile picture.
Tall. Check.
Wavy, dark hair, and a strong jawline. Check.
Impossibly blue eyes. Check.
Broad shoulders and rippling, tanned muscles. Double-check.
I tried to strike a casual pose as I leaned against the doorframe, but I feared I would melt all over the floor in a puddle of lust instead.
Mister, you can bang down my door any time.
He arched a dark brow while eyeing me with a smirk. "Ashley MacLeod?"
"Everyone calls me Ash, but yeah. So sorry. I wasn't expecting you for another half hour. I had a bit of a blow-dryer accident." I smoothed an errant lock of frizz behind my ear. "I'm not ready."
"They never are." He laughed.
And just like that, a bubble burst in my chest. I should have figured him for a Casanova. I was sure he went out with a different girl every weekend. Th
en again, judging by the confident tilt of his chin and the way those stone-washed jeans clung to his thick legs (and that bulge beneath his zipper), I was fairly certain each of his dates ended in mind-blowing sex. I was also thinking I wanted to end our date the same way, because Casanova or not, I was getting tired of buying batteries.
"Right." I pushed back another strand of hair, which immediately popped out of place. "Maybe you should wait in the downstairs lobby. There's a soda machine. Don't drink the coffee. It's usually a few days old." I took a step back and prepared to close the door.
"I've got a schedule to keep."
I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard a hint of a southern drawl, which didn't make a lot of sense because I was almost positive Roger's profile said he'd lived in Seattle his whole life. Casanova blocked the door with his foot, stepped forward, and practically filled the entire doorway with his frame.
That's when it hit me. Roger's profile said five-foot-ten, one hundred and eighty-five pounds, brown eyes, and pale skin. A dentist, he spent most of his days indoors and his pastimes included going to the movies and playing fantasy football. But this guy hogging my doorway could have played real football as a linebacker.
I pointed an accusatory finger. "You look nothing like your profile."
He pushed past me, frowning as he surveyed my cramped apartment. "What were you expecting? Hood and cape and a giant scythe?"
"A what?" I felt suddenly self-conscious as he eyed my small kitchen table and even smaller fridge. Like Roger, I might have lied on my profile, too. I might have put that I was a defense attorney and not a law-school dropout barely making a livable wage as a legal secretary.
He shrugged. "It was a joke."
"Can I fix you a drink?" I did a mental count of how many diet sodas I had left in my fridge. Probably not enough to last until payday. Luckily, Roger looked more like a water guy, and I had plenty of free tap on hand.
