Wade’s eyebrows tug down in mock seriousness. “Hmmm, fascinating. I hadn’t noticed until you pointed it out.”
“Sure, sure…” I tease.
Without giving him an opening to redirect, I bend in, placing my lips against his. He tastes like a mixture of sweet and savory—a remnant from our lunch, but his intoxicating scent of sandalwood and soap is what melts me.
A rumble moves through his chest and he pushes himself closer, taking my face in his hands. My lips burn from the intensity, yet I can’t help but respond with the same. His tongue sweeps across my lower lip and there’s not a single drop of reservation holding me back. Parting open my mouth, his tongue entwines with mine, bringing a rush of excitement right along with it.
Wade’s hands slowly drop from my face, to my collarbones, resting there for a moment and sending tendrils of desire coursing through my upper body. In a swift movement, he wraps his arms around me, lifting me from my cross-legged position on the window seat and carrying me over to the bed. I let out a squeal of surprise, groping at his shoulders to hang on. His back muscles move underneath his dark t-shirt and all I can think about is how much I want to be skin on skin. My thoughts leave the building entirely as I tug at the fabric, lifting it up, then over his head. He shakes himself out of the shirt and I flick it to the floor. For a brief moment, he stands there between my legs, looking like a Greek God and reflecting the same desire consuming my every cell.
His eyelids blink slowly, opening to half-cover his silver slivers.
“I don’t know how I got so incredibly lucky to find you, Autumn,” he whispers, shaking his head.
I prop up on the backs of my forearms, but he bends in, taking my face in his hands again, his lips crushing down on mine. Dropping back, I pull him to me, straddling him between my legs. I dance my fingertips along his upper back and his torso pulses forward.
My hands make their way from his upper back to his waist. I loop my fingertips into the inner edge of his jeans, running them between the fabric and his skin. He arches up, pulling his body from mine for a moment. His dreamy eyes lock with mine and I take the opportunity to unbutton his jeans.
He inhales sharply, holds the breath for a beat, then exhales slowly. Without a word, he reaches for my top. Lifting it at my waist, he slides his hands inside and pulls the shirt over my head. Before I can make an attempt at anything else, his mouth traces a trail along my collarbones and make their way down my cleavage.
His left hand traces my right side, teasing at the purple lace fabric of my bra. My breath hitches and I arch my back slightly, wishing he’d go there—do what he wants. Consume me.
Suddenly, I’m ripped from the momentum of desire as an insanely loud crash makes us jump apart. Wade stands back, his eyes surveying the room.
“What in the…” I say, clutching at my heart and sitting bolt upright on the bed.
Beside my dresser, the large vase of roses is sprawled across the floor. Shards of glass, pools of water, and bits of blood-red roses are everywhere.
“Shit,” I say, racing to the destruction and trying to collect the broken fragments of glass into one of the larger pieces. “How did this happen?”
“Maybe it was just too close to the edge? Do you have a broom, Autumn?” Wade asks, bringing over the small garbage bin by the door.
“I—I think so,” I say, pulling my hair back so I can see better. “It would be in one of the pantries in the kitchen.”
“Okay, I’ll find it. Be right back,” he says, buttoning up his jeans and walking out of the room shirtless.
Rattled, but starting to calm down, I pick up one of the roses and twirl it in my fingertips. Petals hang from odd angles and some of the leaves are broken and dangling from the stem. Staring at it a moment, I’m mesmerized by its beauty, even knowing now that it will never be the same. I wish I had paid closer attention to where I’d placed the vase. It’s a shame to see something so beautiful wasted before its time.
Suddenly, as if sensing my desire for it to be the way it was, the petals begin to lift and the leaves right themselves. I blink back my surprise and set the rose to the side, stacking each of them together. Perhaps I’ll be able to salvage them and put them in a new vase.
I move on, picking up as much glass as possible. It’s everywhere. Thank goodness the floor is mostly wooden. It should make cleanup a lot easier. When I’ve picked up as much as I can, I take a deep breath and sit down on my haunches.
Things were intense there for a hot minute, but I feel like the moment has unfortunately passed. Standing up, I tug on my shirt and sit back down on the edge of the bed.
Despite the pristine nature of the room, and the damn near identical appearance from when I was a kid, a seam of wallpaper beside the dresser is slightly beveled. Thanks to its age, the wallpaper has clearly seen better days, and it’s finally unhinging itself. Perhaps the added moisture from the vase breaking had something to do with it?
Walking back to the scene, I’m careful not to step in the mess on the floor. I reach forward, my fingertips trailing the edge of the wallpaper. A small rip along the seam has separated with time. I wouldn’t have even given it a second thought, only…there’s a glint of metal behind the paper façade. It’s just a tiny thing, really, but it’s enough to capture my attention.
Cocking my head to the side, I lean in closer, but it’s hard to get a good look with everything in front of it. I push the dresser a little more to the right so I can sidestep the mess. Then I bend down and have a closer look. Again, I run my fingertips along the slightly frayed edge of the wallpaper and debate whether or not I should pull it back completely.
Glancing over my shoulder, I half expect Wade to come back in.
Confused, I gently pull back the paper as far as I dare.
“What in the world…?” I whisper, leaning in to get a better look.
Beneath the delicate wallpaper is the plate to what looks like a super-old door handle. The bronze-looking plate has an antique vibe and it’s unlike any of the other handles in the house. Ripping the paper so I can see the handle clearly, I stick my fingertip in the gaping hole where the doorknob should be.
“Found the broom and dustpan,” Wade says, reentering the room. “Did you know, this house has way too many cubby holes, pantries, and cupboards?”
Letting out a squeak, I jump at the sound of his voice, twisting around to face him.
“Well, that was both adorable and slightly hilarious,” he says, chuckling. “Whatcha find there?”
He walks over to me in only a few big steps.
“I’m not sure…” I say, trying to cram my heart back into its proper place.
Wade drops the broom on the floor, bending in to have a look. “Is it a door?” He twists back around to look at me.
I nod. “Looks that way to me, too.”
“Weird. Why on earth would it be hidden?” he asks. “Did you know it was here?”
“I had no idea,” I say, shaking my head and pressing the back of my thumb to my lips.
“Wonder where the handle is,” Wade says, echoing my own thoughts.
My heartbeat thumps in my chest. “I don’t know that one, either.”
More importantly, where does it lead?
Chapter 11
First Day of School & Other Strange Things
The first day of school arrives before I know it, and despite the alarm clock on my phone going off as planned, I still find myself running late.
Go figure.
You’d think of all the days to be wired and anxious, the first day in a new school full of supernatural beings would be it. But with all the questions circling about the house, the missing kids, not to mention Wade’s visit and all the complexity he brings to my emotions, I haven’t really had time to worry about it.
Grabbing a coffee to go in my travel mug, I race out the door without even trying to find Dad so I can say good-bye.
I make it to Windhaven Academy in under twelve minutes, but I’m still fi
ve minutes late to the start of my first class. Hopefully, they’ll cut new students a little bit of slack on their first day.
Exiting my driver’s seat, I make my way to the front of the building as quickly as my feet will carry me. The crisp autumn air rushes at me and I breathe it all in as I race to certain doom. I’m not the only one coming and going, but I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t really belong. After the fiasco at the Witching Stick orientation, I never got to undergo the Divining Rod part, which was supposed to tell me what kind of supernatural being I am. Or at least point me in a direction. With a little luck, things will be sorted out in the next few hours.
In all honesty, Wade’s not the only one dying to know what kind of powers I may have.
Staring at the façade of the old building, I admire the old-fashioned gargoyles and embellishments that adorn the outside of the school. I hadn’t noticed them the other day, but they add a certain level of mystique to the whole academic process here in Windhaven. In a way, it almost reminds me of being back in the old part of Mistwood’s cemetery. It had all sorts of statues, too.
Hoisting my backpack up on my shoulder, I take one last deep breath and swing open the massive front door.
The school is a hustle and bustle of kids and teachers as I walk in and head toward the main office. When I get there, I push open the door and a woman with thick, black-rimmed glasses glances up with the kind of slow motion that makes you wonder if she’s part sloth.
Hell, in a school with wereanimals and shifters, maybe she is, I remind myself.
“Can I help you?” sloth lady asks.
“I uh—yeah,” I nod, leaning against the tall wooden front desk and setting my backpack at my feet. “I’m Autumn Blackwood. I’m new—”
The woman’s eyebrow twitches, as if trying to decide if it’s too much work to actually arch over those massive rims. Instead, she sits up a bit straighter, and runs a hand over the piled-up, mousy-brown bun on the top of her head.
“Ah yes, Ms. Blackwood. We’ve been expecting you,” she says. Shuffling through the piles of paperwork on her desk, she pulls out a manila folder and flips it open. “You never completed your orientation. Is that correct?”
I nod. “Yeah. I mean yes. By the time I got here, the school was being evacuated. I was wondering if I can still—”
“Here’s your schedule,” sloth lady says, cutting me off and sliding over a stack of papers, “a map of the school, details about upcoming campus events, and a list of faculty who can help you get situated. This one is rules and regulations on cell phone use during school hours, as well as the student Wi-Fi password. My name is Ms. Cain. You can come to me with any questions regarding the school. I make it my job to know and see all. Welcome to Windhaven Academy.”
A creepy smile spreads across her lips, like it’s the first time she’s attempted one for the past decade.
“Thanks,” I say, reaching for the stack of papers.
Ms. Cain spins her chair, lowering it a bit so she can reach the floor, and walks around the broad wooden desk.
“Allow me to show you to your first classroom,” she says, stiffly walking straight out the door.
Clutching the papers to my chest, I grab my backpack and follow her.
She’s a full head shorter than I am, but surprisingly, the woman has some speed to her when not sitting behind her desk. It’s all I can do to keep up as she leads the way through the wide, twisting hallways.
Inside, the school is as architecturally interesting as the outside, and I find myself slowing to admire some of the oversize windows with stained glass art and interesting pillars or stairway embellishments.
“Try and keep up, Ms. Blackwood. This is a large school and without the advantage of the Witching Stick, you’ll likely be confused for quite some time. It will do you some good to find someone you can team up with who can show you the ropes,” Ms. Cain says. We pass a large open area with cushy chairs and she points in their direction. “This is the commons area. You’ll find students will mostly chitchat here, because the serious students tend to congregate in the library.”
She eyes some students lounging lazily in the chairs as we pass by and I can’t help but smile to myself.
“Okay, good to know.”
Ms. Cain stops abruptly, twisting on her heel to stare at me over the top of her glasses. “This school has its history, Ms. Blackwood. Be sure to bring your map with you at all times if you plan to explore alone. It’s not like you’re a clairvoyant or anything, I can tell that just by looking at you. Finding your way out of messes could prove quite difficult for you.”
My eyes widen at the seriousness of her tone and I nod in lieu of any other response. Not psychic. Check.
Sweeping her arm out, she points at the door beside us. “Your first period is in here. Intro to Essential Life Energies with Mrs. Karlgaard.”
“Thanks,” I say, stepping inside.
As I walk in, the attention of the entire class shifts from a woman with a floor-length dress and intricately laced granny shawl. Mrs. Karlgaard’s wavy brown and gray hair floats to her mid-back and she looks like she could make the pieces of the room dance with a flick of a wand.
She raises her hands to the class and turns to me. Her bright-blue eyes scrutinize my every move before they crease in their corners. “Thank you, Ms. Cain. You must be Autumn Blackwood,” she says, her cheeks transforming into pink mounds as she smiles. She walks around her desk, her finger floating down a piece of paper. When she’s satisfied, she scribbles something and looks back up.
I nod, and flit my gaze around the room. Every student in the classroom either has their eyes on me or is leaning to someone closest to them and whispering. The cliques are evident immediately, and I can’t help but feel extremely exposed. These people probably know exactly why they’re here, what powers they have, and why. Not to mention, the advantage of growing up around each other. Most supernaturals do.
“Okay, go ahead and grab a seat, Ms. Blackwood,” Mrs. Karlgaard says, waving an arm out in front of her. “We’re just getting started so you haven’t missed much.”
Whispers erupt around me, but I ignore it all and take my seat, thrusting my backpack into the space under my feet.
“Hi, my name’s Caitlyn, but everyone calls me Cat,” the girl beside me whispers as she ventures a tiny wave.
Her dark skin is in deep contrast to the buttery yellow shirt she has on and her black hair is braided in the most beautifully intricate way. She has an almost regal air about her, and I know instantly she’s well-liked. It would be hard not to like her, come to think of it.
“Hi,” I say, nodding. The morning sunlight streaming in the large picture windows sparkles in her dark eyes as she grins and I can’t help but return the gesture.
“Are you excited to develop your powers?” Caitlyn asks.
I nod, keeping my lips pursed, knowing full well what the next question will be. Explaining that I don’t know what I am yet is going to get old super fast. However, Cat surprises me by not even going there.
“You’ll love it here. Windhaven’s more than just a school, it’s really a close-knit community. We take care of our own. If you need any help with anything, just let me know,” she whispers.
“Thanks, that’s really—”
“Okay class, now that Ms. Blackwood is settled, let’s return to our discussion regarding the seven Chakras…” Mrs. Karlgaard begins. “Autumn, it appears you and Ms. Gilbert have already broken some ice. Why don’t the two of you work together for this lesson.”
“You got it, Mrs. K.,” Cat says, nodding and giving her a thumbs up.
Mrs. Karlgaard tips her head in acknowledgement, then turns back to the screen behind her. The juxtaposition of the old architecture with the modern tech screen in place of a blackboard is a little bit strange to settle into at first. We didn’t have such fancy stuff in Mistwood Point. The best technology my high school had was the old television they'd roll in for movie days and it was a
t least twenty years old and still used a VHS player.
I settle into the talk on energy work, healing via the Chakras, and more. It’s super interesting, but also clear that it’s a basic requirement for most students at this school. As the hour goes on—the ambiance from the school puts off an almost steampunky vibe and I find myself actually admiring the divergence of it.
When the hour wraps up, I quickly grab my backpack and head for the door. The moment I step into the hall, the realization slams into me that I have no idea what my next class is, let alone where to go.
“Need some help finding your next class, don’t you?” Cat declares, stepping up beside me with a knowing smile.
“That obvious, huh?” I mutter, moving to the wall and digging for my schedule.
“Only a little.”
Shaking my head at myself, I pull out the piece of paper, staring at it like it's in a different language.
“Mind if I take a look?” Cat asks, holding out her hand.
“Be my guest. Hopefully it makes more sense to you,” I say, thrusting the paper into her open palm.
Her forehead crinkles and she bites her lip as she studies the parchment.
“Mkay, looks like you have Mr. Reed next for Powers & Technology. I'm in that class too. I can show you where it is,” she says.
“Thanks, that would be really helpful. I missed the Divining Rod portion of the Witching Stick this weekend and I’m pretty new to the idea of being supernatural. By the time I got here, they were ushering everyone out. So, I feel like I’m at a total disadvantage.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll get the hang of it in no time. Besides, the Divining Rod isn’t always accurate. It’s just a prediction tool. Most of the time, we have multiple powers to develop and which ones we actually take on are up to us,” she says, handing my schedule back. “Like with me, for instance, I can conjure fire.” Opening her hand, palm-side up, a tiny golden flame ignites in the center of her hand. Then, as she closes it, the flames vanish. “But every time I get too close to electronics, stuff goes on the fritz. So, this next class ought to be interesting.”
The Windhaven Witches Omnibus Edition : Complete Paranormal Suspense Series, Books 1-4 Page 9
