Forbidden Tutor

by Chantal Cross

  For a moment, there is nothing but our panting breath. All sound has fled.

  Our eyes are locked together, lips only inches apart.

  There is something almost crackling in the air. Its magnetism. Its palpable. It’s as if something is waiting, something huge. Like an explosion that will blow in my heart, flow through my body and change my whole world.

  I feel like if one of us moves, the result will be irreversible.

  Still. The heat from his lips. The power of his eyes on mine. That feeling in the air that is becoming so strong it’s almost a sound.

  My body, acing, pounding, throbbing. His weight is crushing on top of me, yet it feels like electric fire.

  I need him. I want him. I’m aching for him.

  A smile flashes across his face. He knows, of course he knows. I’m frozen by my wakening passion, no idea what I want or even if I should want it. No idea how to act on these urges that are suddenly on fire under my skin.

  But he does… He knows his body and he knows how to obey those urges. The idea makes me lightheaded, that he would guide me, touch me gently, push me lightly… Just like we were minutes ago in combat. But instead of fighting we’d be naked, twisted, sliding on sweat, the tension just as high but being spent in a continuous loop between our bodies, our souls—

  From somewhere in the floors above, there is a rattling crash. The walls tremble a little and some dust shakes free of the rafters.

  “What the hell?” Leo looks up at the ceiling, pushing himself up but not getting off me.

  “Yeah. That sounded big.” Suddenly I feel terribly awkward and I just wish he would get off me. My own feelings, my response to his heat, have confused me.

  Perhaps, I am not good at controlling myself in more ways than one. My magic is erratic and based on my emotions. No wonder I find it difficult to curb when my own lust is riding me without any care to my will.

  I shift a little, putting my hands up to press his shoulders. He gives me a surprised look—as if he forgot where he was for a second—then quickly gets up.

  He eyes the ceiling with some annoyance.

  “I had better go and check on that. We’ll take this up later.”

  The look he shoots me is not a friendly one. It’s more like the old Leo. Frustrated and cross.

  I just nod, hugging myself tightly, trying not to give in to my internal shakes. I think those butterflies in my stomach have gotten into my bones, because my whole body is trembling like it wants to fly away.

  5

  Lucien

  Watching Snow in class the next day is torture.

  I’ve been waiting since last night to see her. Gabriel and I had a pretty risky plan to sneak into the dorms, but we were getting desperate. The feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t let me rest.

  Then Seth had to let out a very well-timed commotion that screwed our plans to hell. I know she wasn’t in bed; I know it. The feeling I had last night was strong enough, but looking at her now, I can be sure my fears had a foundation.

  She glows. She’s always been beautiful—in any body, anywhere. Today, she seems gilded with magic. The air trembles around her and the light traces her hair making lines of sparkle around her face.

  Something has changed.

  It’s something I can see as well as feel. Even from across the room as I watch her going through her books and glancing up at the teacher, I can see a quality that I’ve never noticed before.

  I must speak to her.

  Last night, I was only suspicious. I could have dismissed my thoughts as paranoia, overthinking. I care for her so much, I can admit my own bias.

  But now I see her, I know. She wasn’t in bed last night. I have to know where she was, try and figure out this change in her.

  It’s like my anxiety has teeth, gnawing edges that tear at me. My frustration shoves at me with pointed claws. I can’t bear the contented silence of the room as other students read through their books quietly, making occasional comments. I feel like my attention will burn a hole through reality, my eyes and will bent towards her with such force.

  I breathe deeply, not allowing my feelings to manifest. For a moment I’m running through the halls again last night, fleeing from the sounds of Seth disturbing the peace of the entire dorm. At that time, I was stuck between getting caught and needing to see her safe. The memory is intense and powerful. My fear had risen like a dark, violent tide.

  When I saw her in class, I was relieved, at first. I wanted to believe that she was okay so badly I didn’t look deeper. It’s only over the time we have sat in class that my feelings kindled again.

  I realize with some irritation; I’ve been tapping my foot. I link my hands together and take another breath, spying at the clock. Not long to go now. Only a few minutes until class finishes, then I can speak to her.

  She tosses her hair back, trying to tame it with one hand. The light that caught at her before slides across it, making her skin gleam and eyes shine.

  Power. Power lurking beneath her hands. I can almost smell it. I’m caught between loving her and wanting her to be all she can be—and the knowledge that if she remembers everything and gains her birthright, she will be possessed by the evil I swore to fight to my death.

  She starts to gather her books and I poise myself to move. I don’t want her to slip away in the crowd or become engaged with anyone else. I can’t talk to her properly if she is in a group.

  The bell rings and people start to shuffle up. To my dismay Snow picks up her things and moves swiftly to the door. I get caught behind a few people, holding in my impatience with extreme difficulty. I can’t keep it together much longer and push past the last few students as I get near the door.

  In the halls, people surge. I look around and tell myself what I’m feeling isn’t desperation. I’ve felt desperate before, on the edge of despair. This isn’t quite that, but I feel if I do not act soon it could be worse than despair.

  What could be worse than seeing her die? Again?

  Finally, I see her in the crowd. It seems to part around her, like a light glows above her head. The great cloud of black hair floats around her as if the weather itself changes to grace her.

  I push through the crowd. She’s heading to the side doors and I can catch her in the courtyard.

  She didn’t even glance at me once in class. As she left the room, I think she threw me a smile. It’s not what I was expecting from her.

  We have not spoken a word about what happened between us. I’m not sure there are any I could say. I know that in one way, I acted against everything I am supposed to do. In another, I did the only thing possible.

  I manage to find some space by the wall where I can move quickly without shoving down the entire column of moving students. I slip up to the edge of the door and turn left, planning to run. I’m surprised when I get clear of the hallway and see her standing not far from the door.

  Her face is turned up, eyes half closed. The smile lingering on her beautiful red mouth is sweet and thoughtful, but so very content. Like she’s listening to music that tastes sweet and enlivens all the senses.

  “Ebony?” I speak softly, not daring to disturb the air around her. She has always had an intense presence. Up til now it has manifested as innocence, a fresh and expectant energy that infects others as she expresses it.

  It still feels laced with expectation, but it’s as if it has teeth. Before, she expected hope and light. Now the energy around her throbs with promises, and not all of them are sweet.

  Her eyes open slowly and for a moment the smile stays. Her soft look with the sweet twist of her lips makes my heart soar, my male arrogance assuring me, that look is all mine.

  But as her eyes focus on me the smile slowly starts to dim until it’s completely gone. The light seems to dull, her glow retreating into her. Something hard seems to fall behind her eyes and in the few seconds it takes her to turn to me, her face looks blank and somehow disappointed.

  “Hello, Lucien.” She do
esn’t turn to me, even as she looks in my direction. I approach her slowly, wondering how the hell I’m going to ask all the questions I need to ask, let alone the ones I have to ask.

  “Ebony… Are you okay? I really needed to talk to you.”

  She blinks, too slowly. Her eyes are great, dark wellsprings. Something in her has grown. An infinite depth of potential that has somehow become even more dense. I take a step back.

  “I’m fine. What’s wrong?”

  My tongue gets stuck in my mouth for a moment. The first words on my lips are all about the kiss, the fight. Did she remember me saving her? Did she remember the kiss? She was dying…

  “Lucien?”

  “Oh. I—ah—heard there was a commotion last night. In the dorm. Near it. You know what I mean. Did it disturb you?”

  She shakes her lovely head, dark hair shifting as if it has a mind of its own and knows exactly where it wants to fall.

  “Did it wake you up?”

  She shakes her head again. She gets a small frown, as if the question isn’t quite right.

  I think I might go mad. Not so long ago I was comparing anxiety from last night to this morning. Now I think I’m lost in a game and the rule book just got burnt.

  “Has something happened?” I want to ask more directly. But if I ask the wrong thing, I’ll do more harm than good.

  She smiles, and for a moment her eyes light up and my heart kindles with relief. She’s going to look at me lovingly. She’s going to tell me everything’s alright and that sweet innocence will reappear. No harm done.

  “Something?” She keeps smiling. Her eyes seem to get deeper, darker. I’m falling in them. I can feel gravity tearing at me as I try to remain sensible under her gaze.

  “Ebony, please.” I step forward and grip her elbow lightly. “Something is wrong. Talk to me.”

  She shakes her head a little, laughing. The laughter seems to echo around her, as if tons of tiny creatures are laughing along with her. Caught in her aura, dozens of tiny fey things jeering at me.

  Get a grip Lucien.

  “Nothing is wrong, Lucien. I feel like I should be asking if you’re okay. It’s not like you to be so anxious.”

  “Well. Maybe I’ve never been worried about you before.”

  “There’s no need to worry about me.”

  “I think you know; I have many reasons to worry about you.”

  She sighs and it’s like the tiny laughing fey all sigh with her. Not sadness or regret, but a deep frustration that can never be sated, only lived with.

  “I’m really not sure why you wanted to speak to me so badly. You came running up to me but now you don’t know what to say.”

  “I—well, I—I told you. I wanted to know if you were okay. After last night.”

  “Oh, I barely heard the commotion. I wasn’t… Near the noise. I’m not sure what it was.”

  I’m frowning so hard I can feel my jaw locking up. My hand on her elbow tightens a little and I feel like I want to grab her with both hands, pull her against me and feel her body writhing against mine. Her body won’t lie to me.

  Her body would yield and bend to me… she’d be sweet lust in my hands. All I have to do is pull her close, and I can have the truth.

  She blinks with the slow patience of one who can live through eons. Her smile is light, contented and somehow secretive.

  6

  Ebony

  The whole time we are in class, I could tell Lucien wanted to speak to me. It’s like I can feel his urgency burning across the space between us. Even though the classroom has been quiet today, his frustration hums over him like a swarm.

  When class finished, I didn’t make a deliberate decision to move away from him. It’s not like I’m trying to avoid him, not exactly. As the crowds carried me away, I tried to convince myself that nothing was really that urgent.

  Standing in the courtyard under his intense gaze, I know I can’t fool myself about this. He’s got a lot on his chest and it crushing him. I can’t let that emotion quicken in me. If he infects me with that urgency, not only will we be noticed, one of us will be dead.

  Most likely, me.

  It’s hard seeing him like this. The strong composure he always has is near to cracking. His grip on my elbow is light but his fingers begin to press into me as his eyes stare into mine. He seems to be trying to see beneath my eyelids, as if I’m hiding something from him and he might find it hidden under my lashes.

  “Ebony?”

  “Lucien.”

  He blinks and steps back. I’m grateful, the physical press of him so close to me was difficult. I can pretend he has no effect on me. That doesn’t change the fact my fingertips are hungrily imagining every inch of his skin.

  That my lips are replaying every moment of the kiss.

  That behind my calm eyes there is a frenzy of lustful images twisting and writhing in the shadows of my mind.

  He takes another few steps back and turns away. He stretches and I hear his spine crack. As he turns back to me, he pulls his hands against each other, tugging his shoulder muscles into place.

  “Are you okay?” I ask softly. I keep my expression calm and my voice low. I’m concerned for him, but I have to be careful. So very careful.

  That guy who walks across mountaintops on invisible thread should give my life a try.

  “Yes, I’m okay.” He gives me a funny smile. “But I came to ask if you’re okay.”

  “I told you, I’m fine. I wasn’t disturbed last night. Everything is cool.”

  “Cool, huh?”

  “Yeah. Well, I’ve been having some extra lessons and stuff. Trying to get a handle on things.” I try and let ordinary words roll off my tongue, something that normal people might say. It shows how messed up your life is when you have to guess at what sounds normal.

  “Ebony, I have to say, you’re freaking me out a bit. What’s going on?”

  A bolt of ice down my spine threatens to upset my demeanor. I take a little step back,

  raising my eyes to his face to focus more clearly on his expression.

  It looks like he’s flying right by frustrated into pissed. Great.

  “I’m just tired.”

  “You said the commotion didn’t disturb you.”

  “It didn’t.”

  “Look—” He sounds like he’s about to snap at me and one hand comes up towards my arm. I step away and he carefully takes his arm back.

  We stare at each other for a few seconds. So much passes between us. I know what he wants to talk about. I want to talk about it too. But talking about it means thinking about it.

  Thinking about his warm, hard body. His gentle hands. His soft, hot lips. The way his breath passed over mine as if we were two waves meeting, overlapping on a distant shore. A place where no one could tell me how to live, or who to love.

  Or tell me to die.

  My chest aches sharply and I realize my eyes are focused on his mouth. I can feel it. I can taste it. I jerk my gaze back up to his eyes and they are knowing, mischievous. He grins, noticing my attention.

  He steps forward again. He seems calmer now and I have to wonder—did he need to see me bend? Was his mood so dependent on my reciprocation of his feelings?

  For a second, I’m very mad at him for putting me in this position in the first place. He knows what happened between us and he knows the danger.

  And I know, I have to fear him just as much as the others. He could turn on me just as fast, no matter what we have shared. No matter how he feels.

  At any time, his duty could overtake his emotion.

  “Lucien, I’ve just got a lot on my mind. I’m sorry, don’t take it personally.” I try to sound really reasonable but to my dismay it seems kind of whiny. I sigh deeply at my own inadequacy and he takes the sigh the wrong way.

  “It’s okay, if you have a lot to think about.” He steps closer, gripping my elbow again. “So do I. There is so much I want to talk to you about.”

  He’s doing that thing
again, trying to look under my lashes. Maybe the depth of my eyes holds too much truth, so he would rather swim on the shallow fringes. I try to pull away and tug my arm back, but he holds it even tighter.

  “Please, talk to me. You have to talk to me.”

  The heat between us is starting to sizzle. It’s eating my skin, an urgent burning that makes me want to leap across the space between us and press our bodies together. I can’t stop looking at his lips. Maybe that’s why he keeps searching my eyes—they are diving too deeply into his mouth to make contact with his gaze.

  I open my mouth, trying to think. I feel bad for him. He’s hurting and I know it. And I love him. His pain is mine. Loving him, wanting him, feeling the heavy weight of our past and the possibility of a brilliant future—which I know we can never have—tears at me from within my soul.

  But at the same time, I’m mad. Deeply, furiously angry. Something of the me I have remembered, my whole self, will not be put upon this way. I won’t be twisted in anyone’s hands.

  No matter how much I love him, or want him, he doesn’t have the right to treat me like this.

  Doesn’t he know, if he succeeds and I open up to him, it means my doom? No matter which way it goes, I seal my fate. The queen is waiting and so is death. I don’t have any other options and he seems determined to push me into one of these.

  He tugs on my elbow again, eyes burrowing into me. He’s starting to lean forward, forcing me to lean back. He runs his hand down my arm, gripping my fingers.

  “Ebony.” His voice takes on a dark tone and the open concern in his face changes to something stern.

  I can feel my mouth set in a hard line. I’m so over this. How can he be here pushing me like this? Has his ego grown so fragile that he has to be reassured like a newly whelped puppy?

  What exactly is he playing at? Whose side is he on?

  “Ebony.” He says again, hand gripping me even tighter. “Tell me. Stop holding back, stop playing these petty little games and just talk to me.”