Threat (Academy of Unpredictable Magic Book 4)

by Sadie Moss

  Well, damn, okay then.

  I grimace. “So money really can’t buy happiness.”

  “It can, up until a certain point.”

  “So I can still wish for a million dollars for Christmas?”

  He threads his fingers through mine, raising our joined hands to his lips. “I’m not stopping you.”

  I sigh, giving in to the comfort of Asher’s lips caressing my knuckles. Then I glance in the direction Dmitri stalked off. “We should go after him. I don’t want him to be alone.”

  Cam shakes his head. “I’d love to, Sin, you know I would, but I honestly think the person he needs right now is you. Just you.”

  My heart swells and clenches at the same time, and I nod. Asher kisses my hand again, Cam presses his lips to mine, and then I walk away to find Dmitri.

  The dark-haired, broody man isn’t really someone who goes out into the woods the way Cam and I do all the time, so I don’t think he’ll be out there—but he’ll definitely want to be somewhere quiet and out of the way. With a group of angry parents complaining and yelling in the administration building, and students having just finished midterms, the school’s crazy right now. And our dorm would be too obvious of a place to hide.

  Then I remember—in order to fight the demon bird last semester, Dmitri, Roman, and I had to climb up onto the roof from one of the school’s towers.

  There. That’s where he’ll be.

  I climb up the tower, suppressing the shiver that moves down my spine when I pass the spot where Cam had his magic ripped from him. When I reach the top, I climb out the window, and sure enough, there’s Dmitri.

  He’s just sitting on the roof, looking out over the trees with his arms wrapped around his knees.

  I clamber over to him and sit down. “Hey.”

  Dmitri doesn’t say anything. I see he’s going to be difficult today. But then, when is he not? If I didn’t want a challenge, I wouldn’t be dating him.

  And today, of all days, I can understand where he’s coming from.

  I lean into him and put my head on his shoulder. “Came up here to brood, huh?” When he rolls his eyes, I grin up at him. “Broody McBrooderson.”

  He doesn’t respond to that, and I hold in a sigh. I guess humor isn’t going to help much in this situation.

  We sit in silence for a moment as I scramble to think of what to do to help him. Asher likes to talk things out and is good about that, sorting everything out with long discussions, and Cam likes to go on a run or have a laugh to distract himself. But Dmitri…

  The one place where Dmitri and I always work well is when we’re sparring. Even when we’re at odds, when we spar together, we work it all out and connect in a way that feels natural and instinctual. It’s just our thing, like Cam and I have our runs together.

  Right now, I can practically feel how hurt Dmitri is. He’s almost vibrating with it, and it’s making my own heart hurt so much I can hardly breathe. And I don’t think he’s going to fling himself off the roof in a fit of despair like we’re in a Gothic novel or anything, but being up here probably isn’t the best place for him, even if it is away from everyone else.

  I reach up and touch his arm. It’s so tense beneath my fingertips that it might as well be made of steel. “Hey. Come with me, okay?”

  He looks over at me, his dark eyes wary.

  “There won’t be any other people around,” I promise. I know that’s important to him right now. He doesn’t like other people to see how he’s feeling, especially when he’s feeling hurt and wounded. I’m the same way. We’re so similar in so many ways—which is why we can sometimes drive each other batshit crazy. But at other times, it means we understand each other like nobody else can.

  I get to my feet and hold out my hand, hoping he’ll trust me enough to follow.

  Dmitri wraps his large hand around mine and lets me pull him to his feet, then follows me back across the roof, into the tower, and down the stairs to the combat classroom.

  The midterm for that class is over, and everyone else is off working on other things. Tamlin’s probably either in her office or helping calm the crazy parents in the administration building. It’s dark, and empty, and a little cold.

  I flick on the lights and walk to the center of the room. Dmitri’s just… blank beside me, following me without comment or protest or even a facial expression, and it makes me kind of want to scream. His default expression is annoyance, sure, but that’s on purpose—it’s what he chooses to project. There’s a lot that goes on inside him behind the surface.

  But right now, there’s nothing. It’s as if he’s either locked his emotions down so deep he can’t access them or has just gone numb.

  I don’t know which prospect is more worrying.

  “C’mon,” I say, stripping off my coat and all the rest until I’m just in my first layer, clothes I can properly fight in. I bounce a little on the balls of my feet and shake out my hands, getting loose and warm for the match.

  Dmitri shakes his head.

  “Come on,” I repeat. “Spar with me.”

  He folds his arms, tension still radiating from every muscle in his body. “I don’t want to fight you.”

  “But you want to fight someone.”

  His eyes flicker. “Yes. But you’re not that someone.”

  “Well, I’m the one who’s here. So unless you want to go to Hardwick’s office and punch your father, I’m what you’ve got.” I drop into a combat-ready stance. “You have to get this aggression out somehow, it’s not good for you.”

  Dmitri’s still standing just inside the door, but he does take off his coat. Aha, one point to me.

  “I don’t feel like fighting you,” he says gruffly. “And I’m pissed as fuck right now. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t hurt me.” I know that in my bones. I know it like I know gravity exists. “And you need this. Come on. I’m not giving up, and I can be reallllly annoying when I want to be.”

  Dmitri just raises an eyebrow at me, although the blankness on his face is fading a little. It’s being replaced by a scowl, but whatever.

  I’ll take it.

  Straightening a little, I shrug. “All right then.” I pull an exaggeratedly sad face. “I guess we’ll just have to accept that I really am a better fighter than you. You know you didn’t have to throw that fight against me in the Trials, I totally would’ve won anyway.”

  I still have no proof or confirmation that Dmitri actually let me win that fight so I could go to the Trials. There were a lot of reasons for him not to throw our match—he put in a ton of hard work to be the best and do the best, and he had his family breathing down his neck on top of all that.

  If he did throw our fight in the battle royale, he didn’t do it for himself or his family.

  He did it for me.

  Because even back then, he liked me as much as I liked him. Even though we were both too stubborn and chicken-shit to say it.

  My words bounce off the high, bare walls and then die out. Dmitri freezes, his eyes flashing. “Did Asher tell you that?”

  I doubt Dmitri told anyone his plans, but the gentle, chestnut haired man can read minds. He might be wondering if Ash picked up that little tidbit from his thoughts at some point and then relayed it to me.

  Grinning slightly, glad I was able to get a reaction out of him, I shake my head. “If Asher knows about it, then he never told me. He respects people’s secrets. But like I said, you didn’t need to do it. We both know I can kick your ass any day of the week.”

  Dmitri sheds another layer and then stalks over, joining me in the center of the massive room. “So you think you can really beat me, huh?”

  There’s a familiar smirk teasing the corners of his mouth, and my relief feels like a rush to the head, making me sway a little on the spot. This right here is the Dmitri I know and love. Not that blank, shut down person.

  “Oh, I know I can beat you.” I wink at him and dance a little farther back, out of his reach. “
I’m not the one who needs to prove I can come out on top. Why did you do it, anyway?”

  “You were a better poster kid for the Trials,” Dmitri argues. “The world didn’t need to see a snobby kid from some snob parents winning the day, they needed to see someone scrappy who fought hard for what she had, someone just like them.”

  “Or maybe they needed to see that even powerful, rich families can have Unpredictable kids, and it’s not just something that happens to poor people or society’s outcasts.”

  He pauses for a second, considering that, then inclines his head at me. “Touché.”

  “Oooh, did you just concede I might be right? Did you actually admit I’m right about something?” I’m totally baiting him now, and Dmitri knows it, and he knows that I know he knows it, but it doesn’t matter because he’s finally starting to loosen up a little and show signs of real life again.

  He cocks a dark eyebrow at me, and that’s all the warning I get before he launches himself at me to tackle me.

  There is one very good thing about finally dating Dmitri and having both of us be honest about our feelings.

  Well, okay, there’s more than just a single good thing. But one of the good things is that now that we’re together, we can be completely honest about the fact that… well, when we spar?

  It’s basically our form of foreplay.

  Dmitri grabs me and tries to pin me, but I slip out of his grip, definitely rolling my hips in a way I wouldn’t do with any other opponent. We’re both going for tackles and pins that require a lot of full-body contact, and I can only offer up a false “oops!” when my thigh brushes against his groin and I can feel how hard he’s getting.

  He gives me a deeply unimpressed look. Or he tries to, anyway. It’s hard for him to do—no pun intended—when he also looks incredibly turned on.

  I’m sure he can see the same thing on my face too. Dmitri’s hot as fuck, muscled and lean, and he knows how to use his body. He has almost complete control over every movement—and he knows how to touch me, and where, to get me riled up.

  In class, we have to hold back. Nobody wants to see two of their classmates practically dry humping each other on the mat ten feet away. I can feel that he gets hard when we spar, and I definitely get wet, but we can’t do anything about it, and we both try to avoid doing things that’ll drive us too crazy.

  But right now… there’s nobody else here. We don’t have to hold back.

  It’s the hottest sparring session we’ve had yet. Teasing each other, our bodies grinding and rubbing together, Dmitri grabbing me, sliding his hand down my pants for a second, grabbing my ass, biting my ear. I’m so turned on I can barely think, and if this is how he wants to get out all of his aggression, I’m sure as hell not complaining.

  God, I want him to fuck me right here, right on the mat, as hard as he can. I want him to pin me down and make me beg and then make me scream.

  Dmitri’s swearing under his breath as we roll and tussle. I can feel the tension in his body, but it’s not the same as it was on the roof—not by a long shot. This is the best kind of tension.

  It’s the kind that builds inside him just before something mind-blowing happens.

  “Say I win,” I tease, panting hard. My voice is lower and raspier than normal, and my panties are fucking soaked by now. “Say I win, and I’ll let you take my clothes off.”

  This time, the stream of curses that flow from his mouth are at full volume, and when he rolls us again and ends up on top for a second, I can feel how fucking hard he is for me. He stares down at me, his chest rising and falling, and I think for a second I’ll actually win this match by concession.

  But I’d rather win the old-fashioned way.

  I hook his arm and buck my hips, using his momentary distraction to neatly flip him off of me.

  This time, I get his arm behind his back and his head pressed down into the mat. He might’ve thrown the fight with me last year during the Trials preliminaries, but I’ve gotten a lot better since then. He’s genuinely, frustratedly bucking and twisting, trying to get out of the hold. I’ve got him right at his pressure points, and all of my weight is on him. From this angle, he can’t get any leverage to get me off of him, even though I’m smaller than he is.

  At this point, I just have to keep my hold and outlast him, waiting for him to tap out. But then—

  The fucker cheats.

  He can’t get a good grip on me, and he can’t flip me off. But with the angle of my body as I drape across him, he manages to slide his free hand down my pants.

  I let out a shocked breath, my whole body jolting as the pads of two fingers find my clit.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Ohhhh, fuck.

  Against my command, my hips start to gyrate against his touch, chasing the relief his fingers promise after so much damn buildup. I can hear him chuckle darkly beneath me, his face still pressed against the mat, and so much of our bodies are touching that I feel his chuckle too. It vibrates though me, pulling a moan from my lips.

  My brain is shutting down, all my blood rushing south, and it’s getting harder and harder to coordinate and control my muscles to keep him pinned. He moves his fingers lower, sliding them inside me, then uses the wetness he gathered to continue working my clit, and I shudder, my breath coming in short gasps.

  “Fuck. Dmitri. Oh, God.”

  The words are muffled and strained as I shift my body, trying to tighten my grip on him but also get… just… a little bit… closer.

  If anybody walked in right now, they’d find us in an incredibly undignified position. I’ve still got Dmitri mostly pinned, but I’m also humping his hand, writhing on top of him as I bite my bottom lip so hard it hurts.

  “Let me up,” he murmurs, his voice rough and teasing. “Say I win, Princess, and I’ll make you come.”

  Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

  Fire burns through me, and I suck in air as his words make my entire lower body clench. For just a second, my hold on him loosens, and Dmitri doesn’t waste his chance. Quick as a snake, he rolls, pushing me off of him and then following my movement so he ends up on top of me, chest-to-chest.

  Somehow, his hand stayed down my pants the entire time, and now he grins evilly down at me. “Guess we’re even now. You won one, and I won one.”

  “You didn’t win!” I gasp. His hand is wedged between us, his fingertips right where I need them, but he’s stopped moving. I take over, wriggling my hips against him, desperate for friction, needing to come so badly I can’t even see straight. “I haven’t—conceded.”

  “No.” His smile makes my heart and pussy both throb. “But I think you will.”

  Then he drapes his body completely over mine, burying his face in the crook of my neck and biting down on the skin there while his fingers find my clit again, circling hard and fast.

  I come like a runaway train, wrapping my arms around him and digging my fingers into the muscles of his back as my hips roll against the motion of his hand over and over.

  “Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes,” I whisper, doing everything I can not to let it turn into a scream.

  “Do you concede the match?” He lifts his head to nip at my ear, making a new shock of pleasure jolt through me as my orgasm makes me shudder.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes…”

  It’s all I’m capable of saying right now, and Mr. Talented-Fingers Cheater-Pants knows it.

  But you know what?

  I don’t even fucking care.

  As my body starts to come down from the high, he raises up onto one forearm, his fingers still lazily stroking my clit, which is already hungry for more. The dark eyes gazing down at me now are anything but blank.

  “If we call it a draw, will you still let me take your clothes off?”

  I grin up at him despite myself. “Fuck yes.”

  He dips his head to kiss me so thoroughly I lose my breath again, then draws his hand out of my pants and rolls off of me.

  As he extends that same hand down
to help me up, my chest heaves and my heart pounds. But it’s not from the fight.

  It’s from the anticipation of what’s coming next.

  Chapter 14

  We barely make it back to the dorm room before we’re on each other, literally tearing each other’s clothes as buttons fly and fabric rips.

  I put my body in front of Dmitri’s as we speed-walked across campus, trying to keep his raging hard-on from being too noticeable, but now that we’re back in the privacy of our room?

  Let me at that fucking thing.

  He already made me come once, but my body seems to have completely forgotten about it already. I’m buzzing with an electric energy, desperate to touch as much of Dmitri’s skin as I can. Our coats and shirts are off already, strewn across the floor in haphazard piles, and I fumble with the button and zipper on his pants, reaching inside as soon as I work his fly down. I grip him through his boxers, and he grunts, thrusting against my hand even as his own fingers tug on my pants.

  It takes us longer than it should to finish undressing because neither of us seem very coordinated at the moment, and we keep getting distracted. My pants and panties are abandoned halfway down my legs as Dmitri stops to slide his hands up the backs of my thighs, kneading and massaging the flesh of my ass with a rough grip. He drops his head to the crook of my neck, kissing and nipping at the spot where he bit me earlier, and my back bows as I move my body against his.

  We start trying to shuffle toward the bed, but we’re both still so tangled up in our clothes that we go down in a heap. Dmitri manages to wrap his arms around me and absorb the brunt of the impact himself, which is sweet but kind of ironic considering he just spent the last half hour purposefully trying to body slam me.

  Context really is everything.

  And, hey, at least we’re horizontal now.

  He must have a similar thought, because instead of trying to help me stand back up, he just yanks my pants the rest of the way off before kicking his off too. His cock juts out from his pelvis, hard and thick, and he wraps his hand around it, using his thumb to spread the precum gathering at the tip.