Root Rot Academy: Term 2

by Watson, Rhea

  “Not tonight,” I told her, restraint tenuous and control wavering the second her lips wobbled. A breath later, she came apart again, doubling over with a wail. It would have been easier just to carry on as we were—to fuck her with the savagery I craved.

  But no.

  Fangs gritted furiously into my lower lip, I dragged her close and trapped her in an embrace she couldn’t escape. The stubborn creature fought it at first, but then surrendered faster than before. Arms folded between us, Alecto snuggled into my chest, ear to my dead heart, and huffed as I smoothed my sleeves over her tearstained cheek again.

  “You’re too good for me,” she croaked, then buried her face against me when I stilled.

  “No, I’m not.” Honestly, she had no idea the baggage I came with. Six years at Root Rot Academy hardly made up for the devastation of Bjorn the Brutal. Alecto nodded, head bobbing at my sternum, body nudged up against my still very erect cock.

  Torture. Fucking torture.

  “Yes,” the little witch insisted, voice muffled, “you are.”

  Frowning, I caught her under the chin and tipped her head back, losing myself in those watery orbs as I said, “We’re good for each other. That’s all I’ll accept out of you.”

  “I’m a m-mess.” She snorted back a nostril-full of snot, cheeks flaming a beat later. “Like, too much of a mess… I’m fucked-up and broken, and I—”

  “Alecto Clarke,” I growled, my once gentle hand sliding down from her chin to her delicate throat and gripping hard enough that her eyes rounded, her lips the perfect shocked O. “Please stop insulting the woman I adore above all others.” I loosened up when her eyebrows arched, her pulse skyrocketing right along with them, then grinned and booped her on the nose. “Or I’ll need to put on my no-nonsense voice and set you straight.”

  She blinked up at me, almost in disbelief, then dissolved into a fit of exhausted chuckles, her face buried in my chest again. Grinning, I wiped at her cheeks, dried her off, and then tucked her under my arm and steered us both to the bench. When we settled, we did so together, Alecto nestled tight to my side, my arm draped across her curves protectively.

  Maybe even a little possessively, especially with my chin atop her head, every part of my body language snarling mine to onlookers.

  Only there were no onlookers in here.

  For once in this castle, we had absolute privacy outside of the charged space that was our flat. No curious eyes tonight save those of the fireflies, who eventually trickled out from behind palm fronds and reaching vines, shimmering around us in the heart of the conservatory. Even as the winds picked up outside and the first tentative raindrops splashed across the domed ceiling, we stayed warm, dry, and together, just Alecto and me cuddled up on the bench, her legs folded and knees on my thighs, her eyes shut.

  Like we were on a date.

  A real date—the kind I had pictured for months now.

  Yet grief tainted everything.

  Everything.

  “Bjorn?” Including the way she eventually said my name, tentative, hesitant, soft and unfamiliar, like her tongue was tasting it for the first time.

  “Hmm?” I rumbled back, my hand curved over her elbow, cradling it. Alecto sighed deeply, then tensed, and just when I thought she was about to push away, she nuzzled in deeper.

  “I have to tell you something,” she said, words once again muffled against my sweater-clad torso. I slowly walked my fingers up the bend of her arm, along her shoulder, and into her hair to fiddle with the rogue curls I loved so much.

  “Go on.”

  “Something important.” Alecto finally sat up, though she didn’t try to shrug me off, just pushed off my thigh so she could look me in the eye. Her hand remained there, dangerously high and comfortably firm—beyond distracting.

  “Uh, right. Important. Sure.”

  “I haven’t told anyone…” She licked her lips, heart fluttering at the lie. “Actually. No. I told Gavriel, and I told him because—”

  “Because you like him,” I remarked, figuring I should state the obvious—get that out of the way already. I’d known since before Samhain that those two were dancing around each other, flirting with fire, like two brawling alley cats who hissed one minute and snuggled the next.

  “Because we’re both fucked-up,” Alecto countered with a wince, “and… we shared why.”

  Jealousy plucked at my heartstrings. Not a tidal wave of feeling, of course, but as soft and persistent as the beginnings of the storm on the conservatory rooftop. Clearly she and Gavriel had something she found lacking in me. No surprise there. The fae and I were different creatures, and for Alecto’s heart, that was a good thing.

  Still.

  It left me a little green-eyed.

  “I just don’t want to hurt your feelings that I didn’t come to you first.” She sighed softly, and I gave her a moment when it seemed like she was collecting her thoughts—maybe even gearing up to make the monster more possessive than he already felt. “I…” Alecto’s gaze fell to her hand on my thigh. “I was scared to tell you.”

  “Alecto, you’re scaring me now.” What could be so awful that she feared sharing it with me? My past was all blood and gore, brutality and selfishness. Whatever she had lurking in her heart paled in comparison. Nothing she could say or do would send me running. “Just spit it out… I’d never judge you.”

  “I know, I just—”

  “Come on, elskling.” I caught her under the chin by my knuckle and brought her back to me. “Sharing is caring.”

  “My name isn’t Alecto Clarke,” she blurted, cheeks flaming and heart pounding out of nowhere. My hand fell away from her face, and my little witch reared back. “It’s Corwin. I… I chose Alecto for myself when I was a teenager, but I was born Hannah Corwin. And… Ash Cedar killed my parents.”

  Well.

  That.

  Was unexpected.

  My brain short-circuited, and the best I could manage was a frown and a nod. Alecto released a shaky breath, and when she spoke again, she sounded less frantic—but no less heartbroken than before.

  “His name is actually Benedict Hammond…”

  I listened to the whole grisly tale in silence. The coven feud. The shattered peace treaty. The murder and the fire and the rescue and her grandparents—

  Their untimely demises.

  The djinn.

  The new name.

  His obsession with her eyes—her mother’s eyes—and his pathetic attempt to bully her into something. She claimed it was a relationship; I suspected Hammond’s courting came with more sinister intentions.

  Ash Cedar.

  Benedict Hammond.

  I’d never liked the bastard, and as Alecto trailed off now, voice hoarse and gaze concerned, it took everything in my power, decades of practice and meditation, not to blitz back to the castle and just kill him. Find the fucker and snap his neck.

  I cracked mine instead, twisting this way and that for a satisfying crrrrrick on either side. Alecto swallowed hard, the dance of her throat catching my eye, and her pulse quickened.

  “I… You… We…” She retreated somewhat, untangling herself from my arm and giving me space she must have thought I needed. “I needed you to know before we moved forward.”

  Right. Get yourself under control, you ancient fuck. Splitting oneself open and spilling your guts took courage—courage I had always known Alecto to possess, but this was different. This was deeply personal, scars from her past and secrets that belonged to her. I had no claim on them. Not now, not in the future. They were hers to share when the moment was right.

  Never was an option, too.

  “I… appreciate that,” I told her, slow and careful, mindful not to startle the little fawn and send her scampering into the dark forest alone. “Thank you for sharing.” I snatched up her hand just as it balled and retreated into her sleeve, fanning open her fingers to thread with mine. “Alecto, it’s very meaningful for me—to know you.”

  Tears greeted
me again when our eyes finally met, but the lift of her lips told me they were happy tears—thank fuck. With a thick gasp, she flew into me, grabbed my face tight for a closed-mouthed kiss that started firm and hard, then slowly melted into soft and serene. I let her steer the ship this time, confident that she wouldn’t push us too far off course. When she eventually broke away, leaving my lips buzzing with the memory of hers, she stayed close, her forehead against mine and her lashes splayed across her flushed cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and the best I could do was nod, not trusting my voice, knowing it too would wobble with emotion. After all, she needed me to be strong—solid. We were each other’s stability when the world crumbled, and this time, Alecto needed me to hold back the landslide.

  “Of course, elskling.”

  “Elskling?”

  Hearing her speak my native tongue roused my cock again, but I focused on her face, brushing the curls from it with a contented rumble.

  “Darling,” I told her, to which she blushed and pulled back, lower lip snagged between her teeth and heart dancing for me.

  “Oh.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Do you like it?”

  “Very much,” she murmured with a shy nod. Good. It suited her, though I had a few alternates waiting in the wings. But the moment her brows knit and her expression darkened, I knew now wasn’t the time for pet names and sweetness.

  “Say it.”

  “I…” Alecto shook her head, rolling her eyes skyward. “I came here to ruin him, Bjorn. I came here for vengeance after what he did to my family, and life keeps getting in the way. Work and the kids and…” Her pointed glance at me said more than words could. “I don’t know if I should just kill him, or—”

  “Don’t.” My certainty seemed to throw her, expression faltering and hand retreating from mine. As much as I wanted to cleave Benedict Hammond’s head from his shoulders and drop-kick it into the sea, it wasn’t something I wished on Alecto—on a witch who knew nothing of war. Besides, death lasted a minute, an hour, a day. If she got him locked up, publicly tarred and feathered in their community, then he had a lifetime of suffering ahead.

  Far more preferable.

  “But he killed my parents,” she said slowly, as if I’d forgotten that bit. I stretched my arm out along the back of the bench.

  “And bloodying your hands changes that?”

  She sat up straighter, frown deepening. “No, but—”

  “It will change you,” I stressed. “I promise. You’ll live with that warlock forever if you take his life.”

  “Yeah…” She glanced down and fidgeted with her shirtsleeves, with a frayed string on the left cuff. Contemplative, suddenly. Right. I could work with that. Alecto fell silent for a long beat, then huffed. “I mean, yeah, I guess you have a point.”

  “Listen, I’m not excusing him.” I twisted in place to face her properly, one leg propped over the other, fingertips toying with her curls. “But time also changes people.”

  Once again, Alecto blinked up at me, but gone was the surprise, the shock, the flattered flutter of her lashes. Instead, disgust and outrage flashed back at me, and I knew I’d made a mistake.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she demanded just as my lips parted for a correction. I pressed them together to regroup. We all had a past, myself included, and of all the men in her life, I suspected mine was the bloodiest.

  Gavriel came at a close second.

  Jack Clemonte had… wealth. Maybe some political backstabbing.

  I had raiding and burning and torture, serenaded some days by my victims’ screams…

  “Well—”

  “Are you saying I should forgive him?” Alecto readjusted her position, feet planted firmly on the ground and eyes hurling daggers. “Like, everyone makes mistakes—is that what you’re saying?”

  I withdrew my arm and held up both hands, defenseless. “No, I—”

  “He murdered my family.” She snapped it like I couldn’t grasp the concept, all fire and wrath—what was meant for him shot squarely at me. “He tried to burn me alive. Benedict Hammond needs to pay for that.”

  “All I’m saying,” I pressed, refusing to rise to her level and escalate things further, “is that a man’s history doesn’t always define him.”

  “Wow.” Alecto stood, arms crossed, everything about her suddenly screaming fuck off. “Just… wow.”

  “Alecto, I’m not really talking about him.”

  “I’m going to check on Jack.”

  “Stop.” I caught her shapeless plaid thing before she could slip away. “He’s sleeping—and this is ridiculous.”

  My elskling whirled around, though not with enough venom to rip her dress out of my fist. “I share a deeply personal part of myself with you, and your big takeaway is that time changes people?”

  I let go, trusting that she wouldn’t storm off. “Right, poor choice of words—”

  “Then what?”

  Staring up at her flushed face, that golden gaze accusatory and forlorn and begging me to just get back in her good graces—to rewind the clock back to when we were cuddling on the bench, surrounded by fireflies and the first whisper of rain.

  But there was no going back. We had left friendship behind for something more meaningful. She had shown me a scar, exposed herself—and then I hurt her. Inadvertently, but that didn’t matter. We should be able to discuss this, heated or not, and come to a satisfying resolution.

  And I…

  I owed her my thoughts. My feelings.

  I owed her a scar or two.

  “Alecto,” I said softly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my thighs, head hanging at the memories, “I too killed families once.” When she didn’t immediately bolt, I peeked up, ashamed of my past but refusing to bury it—not when it shaped me into the vampire I was today. “I burned whole villages to the ground. I tortured and murdered and did as the bloodlust commanded. I was selfish. Violent. Vengeful, even against those who were innocent. And I am only now beginning centuries of penance for all I took from this land.” With a shake of my head, I stood, arms at my sides, totally open to her. “I… I could very easily be in that bastard’s shoes, and you…”

  Fuck, where was that train of thought headed? I hesitated, unsure if I could be that honest with her. Alecto, meanwhile, seemed to pick up on precisely where things were going. She sucked in her cheeks for a moment, then brushed her finger under each eye with a sniffle.

  “Are you saying I’m a hypocrite if I excuse your sins and not his?”

  She looked up at me, hope flickering in the amber—hope that I might deny it.

  “I… don’t know.”

  Maybe?

  Alecto nodded, eyes watery again. “Right. Okay. I need to just… go.” She gave me her back. “Excuse me.”

  “Alecto.” Don’t go. Talk to me. Yell at me. Vent and let me do the same.

  She held up her hand, sounding more exhausted now than when I’d first found her as she said, “Bjorn, I get it. I… get where you’re coming from. I just need some time to think.”

  Fair enough. I watched her disappear into the nearest overgrown walkway in silence. If we weren’t going to be productive, if the dialogue now only made things worse, then fine. Go. But this wasn’t over, nor would it be the last time we discussed the issue. No more hiding for Alecto and me. No more acting like a coward, like space and silence would fix our problems.

  I tabled it for another night, another headspace, and plopped back onto the bench. The wood buckled beneath me with a creaky groan, barely holding its shape. A few moments later, the sound of the door whooshing open to the storm and clicking shut again had me slumping into the backrest. Shortly after that, the fireflies swarmed—whether to punish or comfort, I had no clue.

  Either way, I was alone again.

  In a fight with my elskling.

  About to get rained in.

  The memory of our first kiss tainted by… this.

  By everything.


  I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes tight with a groan.

  “Well… Shit.”

  28

  Alecto

  Ugh.

  Overreaction City—Population: me.

  Chin tucked and shoulders up, I scaled the hillside stone steps two at a time. Even though the clouds had looked like they might hold off until later, rain hammered the Root Rot grounds in huge, angry droplets.

  The perfect reflection of my mood today, honestly.

  Dark and stormy and bleak, the weight of it all cutting down to the bone.

  Of course during my dramatic storm-off I’d forgotten my shawl, every inch of exposed skin now riddled with gooseflesh, my teeth chattering as I trudged up to the castle.

  The literal second after I walked away from Bjorn, I knew I’d overreacted. Unfortunately, it was just how I had felt in the moment—and instead of bottling it up, I let it out.

  Ripped off the cap so the fizz exploded all over both of us.

  Ughhhhhhhhh. I grimaced at the memory, the conversation playing on a constant loop, paused only when I slipped on one of the stairs near the top, heart launching into my throat and arms shooting out for balance.

  “Fuck’s sake,” I grumbled. It had started so perfect, cuddly and romantic, just what I needed after yesterday with Jack and Alice…

  And that kiss.

  Then I’d tried to ruin it, take things too far too fast.

  Had it been Gavriel in the conservatory with me, he might have given in. The sex would have been awesome as always, but my mood wouldn’t have improved. The feelings would still be there, churning away.

  It was healthier to talk.

  Harder, too.

  The risk of a blowup greater.

  And that was exactly what had happened, with Bjorn of all people.

  Of course he wasn’t telling me to be BFFs with Benedict fucking Hammond. He had barely gotten his point across, but in the heat of the moment, it had certainly felt like he was proposing I, what, accept that Benedict might be a different warlock now?