Becoming The Red Witch: A Why Choose Academy Romance (Major Arcana Academy Book 1)

by Ana Calin

  Silas winds an arm around her waist, and walks with her deeper into the garden.

  “I warned him to stay away from her, and yet he puts his hands on her, right under my nose.”

  My eyes snap to the Lord Protector. I can’t believe it, did he just sound jealous?

  “He kissed her earlier,” he says, eyes locked on the couple, glinting like weapons from under his thick eyebrows. “I’d throw him in the dungeon for defying my orders, but I don’t even believe it’s entirely Silas’ fault, all this. He isn’t himself anymore, Maverick. It’s like the girl has entered his blood stream, possessing him like a demon. You do realize the catastrophe, don’t you? He’s a Guardian Angel of the mortal realm against demons, and he is being corrupted by a girl with demonic powers.”

  “I didn’t even think it was possible to make him feel attraction anymore.” I stare after the couple, too, puzzled, intrigued and, deep down, annoyed. How can she still want him, after she opened up to me? It was my magic that first enveloped her, opening her soul up so I could probe her very essence. That would cause even strongest witch to become obsessed with me, and me alone. How can she lean into Silas like that, let him lead her into the garden, and do—

  “We need to stop them,” I hiss. “Before it’s too late.”

  “I agree, but we’ll need to be smart about it.”

  “What do you mean? We have no time to lose.”

  “If we try to separate Silas from her with force, it’s only going to backfire.” The Lord Protector puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing so hard his fingers drill into my flesh through the leather jacket. My eye twitches. Not many people have the strength to cause me pain, but this is the Lord Protector, the Grim Reaper.

  “I want you to seduce her, Maverick.”

  “Excuse me, what?”

  “I know it comes out of the blue, but it’s the only way to separate Lucia and Silas once and for all. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to make a move on her, being her mentor and all. You’re the one who will prepare her for the test at the Academy, so you’ll have a great advantage. She’ll be spending most of her time with you.”

  “You still want her to go to the Academy? Even though you know she has demonic powers?”

  “We don’t know that she has a demonic nature. And I can tell you for a fact she’s capable of great, profound love. I felt it in my flesh. She’s been abandoned, abused and misused, and yet she still loves. Even that boy who rejected her, Chase, she feels love for him on a soulful level. She deserves the protection of the Academy, but we can’t lose our Guardian Angel to a petty mortal romance. That would completely compromise his position, and his efficiency.”

  I look from the Lord Protector to the star-crossed lovers whose shapes are fading into the depths of the garden, her red hair and his blond head now shrouded in a mist of magic. Silas must have sensed they’re being watched, and cast a veil of glamour over them.

  “What if she won’t have me?” My chest tightens as I contemplate the possibility.

  “Make sure she will,” the Lord Protector says as he pours himself another tumbler of Ambrose. I haven’t even touched mine, but toss it down my throat now. “Besides, there are rumors you’re the most desired teacher at the Academy. No one can resist you.”

  “I would say the most lusted after teacher,” I grunt.

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Desire involves tenderness. Girls at the academy dream of me taking them like an animal against bookshelves, or brutally bending them over my desk.”

  “Well, you do have the allure of a beast, all dark and dangerous, warlock of the woods.”

  “Oh-so-sexy,” I growl, glad to get a refill of Ambrose.

  “Why don’t you apply some of those fantasies with Lucia Reid in your hut? Let her enjoy your hands crawling up her thighs under her skirts. Toss things from your table, and hoist her up. And make sure that Silas catches you.” Darkness shrouds him as he says it. His lips twist, and he swallows down the Ambrose. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he needs to drink in order to deal with his own scenario. I’d say that he wants me to seduce the girl, but wants to kill me for it at the same time.

  “If you want this done properly, why don’t you do it yourself?”

  “What do you mean why? I’m the Lord Protector, I’m supposed to remain celibate.”

  “Celibate as in not married, but not chaste. Not according to the Book of Arcane Law. It’s not required of you.”

  “Not required, but best in the eyes of our people.”

  It’s true, and I know it. The Lord Protector is beyond carnal cravings, or ‘petty mortal romance’. To him, romantic love is a ‘lowly’ vibration of happiness, it’s the mere mortal’s peephole at eternity. Romance is the only way that humans get anchored in the moment, and rejuvenate, while supernaturals have many other avenues. But then why do I get the feeling he’s as taken with this girl as Silas is, and that he’s fighting his own feelings on this?

  And why the hell do I feel this prickling in my stomach when I say, “All right. I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER VI

  Lucy

  I whistle happily during the bumpy ride to the warlock’s hut, ready for another training day. I can tell that it exasperates Gordon, but I don’t give a crap. I enjoy his quiet fuming. I’m on his mind a lot for someone who’s not worth a supernatural’s spit, aren’t I?

  He turned out to be the fool between the two of us, and he sure as hell knows it. He said the Lord Protector wouldn’t look at me twice, and yet he even spent a night with me. And while we didn’t even kiss, a deep connection formed between us as he kneaded those oils into my skin, his handsome lips murmuring the spells that released the magic in my blood. It felt like a shot of fresh life, flooding my cells with new health. I could feel all my organs rejuvenate inside me while I slept, as I felt his presence over me, casting spells like he would say prayers.

  I think I’ve made some sense of my feelings as well, understanding how I can feel so taken with the Lord Protector and Silas at the same time. While I have lost my head for Silas and fallen in love with him, I love the Lord Protector on a deep level that I can’t even reach with my mind, only with my heart. It’s not like I can’t imagine making love to him, because I totally can. I wouldn’t exactly pull back if he bent down to put those forbidding lips on mine. I know for a fact I wouldn’t be able to resist him, but luckily I won’t ever be in that situation. The Lord Protector doesn’t see me that way, and he never will. He’s resilient to all things romance. Which I can live with, because I have Silas.

  Delight fills my chest as I think of him. I lean my head back and smile. The car jerks us in all directions on the dirt road, but I don’t care, I’m so full of him. His kisses are a dream come true. He’d said we couldn’t be together, for all the things that stood between us, and then he just couldn’t keep away from me, just like in soap operas. I’d given up all hope that I would ever experience a love like that, and then the world turned upside down and Silas, the incredibly beautiful demigod of warfare and Guardian Angel of the mortal realm, entered my life and fell for me.

  I smile dreamily, which triggers scoffs from Gordon. But I won’t let him get to me, not now that I’m finally happy. When we stop where the road ends, at the edge of the thicket, I look at the warlock’s hut with a smile, and even with affection.

  I cradle the concoction I made yesterday as homework and get out of the car, heading to his hut. The door is open, but Maverick doesn’t wait out on the porch, like he usually does.

  “Maverick?” I put my head in, scrutinizing the dark.

  “Lucia,” his gravelly voice replies from the blackness. “Come in and close the door.”

  “But it’s—”

  “Pitch black, yes, that’s how we need it.”

  I step inside, and shut the door behind me. I move slowly, feeling my way around. Complete darkness swallows the room, without even the faintest light from the outside, until a small flame starts to glow some
where in the back. I’m uncertain what to do, but then I hear the warlock’s voice again, rich and surrounding me.

  “Walk to what calls to you.”

  As I walk closer to the flame his rich voice surrounds me with spells, and I feel the gates of my memory opening up. But this time it goes beyond my childhood, into my toddler years, to a place I never remembered before. A place I couldn’t access days ago, this is the peak of our training. A new place that yet feels familiar.

  The patchy walls, the rusted cribs and the wailing, oh, dear God, the wailing. I fall to my knees, unable to keep the sound from my head. I drop the little green bottle with the potion, but I don’t hear it smash for all the children’s crying filling my mind.

  I press my hands to my ears in an attempt to block the sound, but it’s pointless. It’s inside my head, and the more I isolate myself from my environment, the more alone I am with them.

  A rough palm touches the back of my hand. I open my eyes, but all I can see in the dark is the flame, which I now realize is inside a crystal globe. I’m looking at a magic crystal, not a real fire, which is why it doesn’t illuminate any of my surroundings. This enhances my senses. The feel of Maverick’s calloused palm against my skin, the gravel in his voice tantalizing me.

  “Let them in, Lucia. You have to embrace your deepest past, and the feeling it comes with, if you want to find out who—and what—you really are.”

  “What if I don’t want to remember?”

  “You must. You owe it to yourself, and to the rest of us. To the world of magic that adopted you.”

  “But I’m scared.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “The pain.”

  “Just step outside yourself. Observe the pain. Where do you even feel it in your body?” His voice settles in the pit of my stomach, becoming a part of me.

  “It’s a white pain in my chest,” I whimper. “And cold, biting cold that crawls to my fingertips.” Indeed. The more aware I become of the sensation, and the more I describe it to him, the less it hurts. It’s still there, but it’s not painful anymore.

  “What causes the pain, Lucia? What causes the anxiety?”

  “Their screams.” And then it hits me. The memory of the boy in the bed opposite from mine, a red-headed toddler with tangled dry locks and cheeks flushed from crying—and slapping.

  My heart twists. He seems older than me, old enough to get slapped across the face, and I know that my turn will come soon, too. I would not always be wrapped in cloth.

  Dirty hands pick him up, and he struggles like a little worm about to be impaled on a hook. I can’t leave him alone. I have to do something.

  Then someone picks me up, too.

  I struggle in my wrappings. When I look down at myself I realize I’m a baby. And there are many of us in here. I look out the window and see smoke coming out of furnaces. We’re in an industrial area. Somewhere in the East. I don’t think we’re in the States.

  “She is the one. I found her.” It’s the voice of a woman. An old hag with a witch’s face, or maybe she just appears that way to my young eyes. “It isn’t a warlock. It’s a witch. The Red Witch.”

  My heart stops. Those words, and the look of worship in the woman’s eyes as she stares at me, her face as big as my entire baby body.

  The other one, the one who picked up the boy, turns to look at me full of interest. How could I have ever forgotten a face like that? She’s got a wart on the tip of her hawkish nose, and hair that appears blue in the light.

  “So they didn’t have a son?” the blue-haired witch says. “They had a daughter?”

  “Just look at her. She’s born of pure fire.” The one holding me regards my small body like I’m made of gold, then she lifts me up like a grand prize.

  “She is the one. The blade turned rose. She will bring great men to their knees.”

  “Great men see these things coming. They can protect against them.”

  “Not against the girl of fire, they can’t. Not against the Red Witch.”

  The ground starts to shake, sending ripples through the vision like through a pond. I try hard to hold on to this experience, find out more, but the memory dissolves. The last thing I see is the blue-haired witch with the hook nose and the wart. Her small eyes turn to evil beads as they lock on me.

  “The blade turned rose. The Red Witch.”

  Lucia!

  It’s the warlock’s voice, that voice that melts my insides like chocolate. He’s trying to pull me up from the vision.

  Lucia, I want you to emerge from there, now.

  I want to tell him that I don’t care what he wants. I don’t like him ordering me around. I never liked people making demands, not even John and Valerie, my foster parents.

  I defy Maverick, and dive deeper into the dark, searching for the vision, wanting to re-immerse myself in it, relive my past. I need to know what happened to the red-haired boy. I need to know what the Red Witch, what blade turned rose means, and who my real parents were. I feel at home in the darkness as I sink deeper, as if I’m part of it. Let Maverick come after me if he wants to—or if he can. Let’s see just how powerful this warlock really is, how far he can go down my black past.

  I feel his breath through my hair before he sinks his hand in it and tugs. I hiss, but not in pain. It’s pleasure that runs through me at his display of authority. I try to push myself deeper to catch the vision, but he spins me around and presses his lips on mine, hard and wet under the sting of his stubble.

  My mind freezes. Only yesterday I was kissing Silas passionately in the back garden, behind thick trees where no one would see us, and swearing eternal love to him among deep kisses. And now I have another man’s mouth on mine, and I’m not trying to push him away. I revel in it.

  Maverick’s kiss sends shock waves through me. He peels his lips off of mine, only to put them on my neck, trailing down, making me gasp in pleasure. He moves fast down my body, his hands stripping me of my jacket and ripping my shirt open. He’s an expert at this, I can tell. And while I can’t help gnashing my teeth at the idea that he may be fucking around, and I shouldn’t let him make me one of his many trophies, I can’t bring myself to stop him, that’s how good his rough mouth feels on my skin. And when he tugs my jeans off of me and his lips push through my pubic hair into my folds, I squirm.

  “Holy fuck!” My eyes snap open. Low light now burns in the hut, so I can see myself lying on the floor, my shirt ripped, buttons all around me. My jeans are open and down under my buttocks, giving the warlock’s dark head space to move between my legs. His tongue is stroking my clit, and when he looks up at me with those eyes as dark as coals, I understand what he’s doing.

  “Stop.” I squirm, trying to crawl away from him, but his big calloused hands clench on my buttocks, his fingers curling into my flesh.

  I arch back, hissing from the pain and the pleasure—his wicked tongue laps expertly at my clit while his rugged man’s hands showcase their strength. But I know he’s only doing this to prove a point, and even if he weren’t, I won’t let him make a trophy conquest out of me.

  I have a strong idea what kind of man Maverick Jones is—he fucks women and then he leaves them; any woman who gives herself to him isn’t of much worth to him. So I won’t give myself.

  But he won’t let me go, forcing pleasure on my body. I prop myself on my elbows, determined to gather my strength of character, go against the sensations, and kick him off me, but something different happens. When I see my body under that ripped shirt, my breasts glistening with sweat out of the black lace bra, my pants down to allow a wicked bastard to lick my pussy, I’m hooked—and horny as fuck.

  Instead of demanding him to get off of me I fist my hand in his rich dark hair, and move my hips into his mouth, undulating and fucking his face.

  “Oh, yeah, lick me good, warlock,” I hiss, my eyes filling with fire as they lock with his. Something changes in his black irises that seemed so much in control only moments ago.

  I pu
sh myself into his mouth, my juices of desire spilling over his face, clinging to his stubble. I love the way it scratches my skin. I should be feeling ashamed, shouldn’t I? I’m unshaved, totally unprepared for this. The last thing I expected was that today I would be having sex for the first time—if only oral sex. But instead, I feel dirty, and powerful, I feel I can make this man my slave, and the idea alone arouses me like crazy.

  I ride his mouth, tugging on his hair to signal he is to move away from my pussy.

  “Don’t worry, Casanova,” I pant. “I won’t be taking the candy away from you.” He gives in and moves in the direction of my tug, lying down on his back. But as soon as I have him down I get up to my feet. He props himself up on his elbows, staring up at me like an animal maddened with the need for sex, but I don’t let him come after me. I kick my sneakers off and place a foot on his chest.

  “Pull my jeans.”

  He looks down at my ankle, and pulls my pants off, one leg at a time. The panties go down with them, leaving me free to straddle his face. I love the way the warlock gives in to me, allowing me to ride him.

  I can feel him move his hands behind me. The bastard didn’t expect this turn of events, but he sure as fuck loves it. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I know what I want him to do, so I reach behind myself and grab him by his thick, strong wrist, feeling the leather cuff of his jacket against my fingertips. Oh, yeah, we’re doing something so forbidden.

  “Lick me, slave,” I demand lustfully, trapping his head between my thighs and slapping my pussy on his face as I guide his hand to my backside. I’m not sure what I want him to do, but he’s experienced enough to know in my place—so he splits my butt cheeks and pushes the thick, rough tip of his finger into my pucker.

  “Holy fuck!” It drives me crazy with horniness. I rinse his mouth with my pussy, smearing his face with my juices, circling and rubbing it onto his face. I feel like a virgin whore, and I’m loving it. “That’s it, lick it good.”

  I can feel my orgasm coming, fast and strong, and I ride him right to it. When the wave of pleasure bursts from my clit I throw my head back, my hands fisting in the warlock’s hair. “Ah, drink me in, slave!”