Once Upon A Devil: A Dark Academy Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Everafter Academy Book 3)

by Scarlett Snow

  I promised Lockwood that I would turn in my assignment, which means I really ought to get around to doing the damned thing. I hurry to the library to get the book I need. Beauty is reshelving the books that students had been using during the day, and Aladdin is following her around, carrying a stack of heavy tomes so the librarian doesn’t have to exert herself at all.

  “Flowers,” he’s saying as I come in. “Your perfume smells like flowers. I just can’t place them.”

  Beauty smiles. “I thought you were a gardener,” she teases.

  “Gardener’s assistant. I’m more of a step and fetch it boy,” he admits. “Jonquil? Lilac?”

  I walk over to them. “Sorry to interrupt. I had a book on hold…”

  Beauty finishes shelving the book she was holding, then nods. “Of course. I have it behind the circulation desk. Come with me.”

  We walk over to the desk in question and she goes to the rack behind it. She retrieves a heavy tome with a green leather cover and brings it back to me.

  “Here it is. History of Herbalism by Lionel Berthe.” She smiles and puts it down on the desk. A dusty patch now stains her beautiful blue gown.“Can I help you with anything else?”

  It’s worth a shot. “Do you have anything about the gates of hell?”

  Aladdin chokes on his own spit and has the mother of all coughing fits. He puts the books down and doubles over, trying not to expire. Beauty pats him on the back, trying to help. She frowns as she considers my request.

  “That’s a little dark for our collection,” she admits. “I don’t think we have that sort of thing here. Perhaps you should ask Professor Nightingale.”

  Aladdin manages to survive his attempt at drowning on dry land and gasps out, “Private collection.”

  Beauty nods. “Yes, I would imagine that sort of thing might be in someone’s private collection.” She turns back to me. “Miss Hemlock, please be careful with your research projects. Sometimes it’s dangerous to look too deeply into the shadows.”

  She has no idea just how deep into the shadows I’ve been. I nod and offer a bland smile instead of any smart-ass commentary. “Okay. Thank you, Mrs. Beauty.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  The librarian goes back to her reshelving, and before he goes back to pestering her about her perfume, Aladdin tells me, “Lockwood might have some books…”

  I need to look in Esmeralda’s office. I’ve looked through her books, but not closely, and there might be something there that I can use. I’ll invite Redera to join me once I get my assignment completed.

  Stupid homework. Always getting in the way of what’s important.

  I go back to my room and reunite with my nervous friends, who are very happy to see me in one piece. I don’t tell them much, using my assignment as an excuse to avoid their questions. The last thing I want is to worry them. I do a half-assed job on my homework, and then, when Sirena and Alice are asleep, I slip out of my room and make my way to my sister. She opens the door while I’m still knocking.

  “Let’s go check out Esmeralda’s office.”

  Her face lights up. “I thought you’d never ask!”

  I cast a glamor over both of us, enough to keep us hidden from casual observers, and we go to our ancestor’s hidden room. The door opens for us easily and we slip inside. Redera whispers a magical command, and all of the sconces and candles light at once.

  “Now,” she says, looking around. “If I were a book about the gates of hell and the seven keys, where would I be?”

  “Probably on a shelf in the middle of a bunch of boring books, hiding in plain sight,” I answer. “Although I’m pretty sure from looking at these titles that there’s not a single boring book in this place.”

  We take opposite sides of the room and pore over the books. I’m finding a ton of things I’d love to stick my nose in later, but nothing that looks especially pertinent to what we need right now. I’m just about to give up when I find a little leather-bound notebook tucked sideways onto some other books, pushed so far back that it’s barely visible from most angles. I reach in and pull it out, and the thing tingles in my hand so much that I almost drop it.

  “I think I found something,” I say.

  “Good, because I’m coming up empty,” Redera responds, coming over to look at the book in my hand.

  It’s one of those blank notebooks that people use for diaries and angsty poetry. I open it up and flip through the pages. There’s nothing written on any of them, but as I rifle through the leaves, a scrap of paper falls out and floats toward the floor. Redera picks it up, and we look at it together.

  It’s a handwritten list, and when I see what it says, I almost jump out of my skin.

  My mind races back to the vision I had at Esmeralda’s desk. “Hand. Glory. Find.” It makes perfect sense now. Maybe the Hand of Glory is the most important of the keys, or the one that we need to find first.

  “Wow,” Redera breathes. “At least we know what they are now, huh?”

  “Yeah. Now we just have to find them.”

  “Let’s keep looking. Maybe there’s something else hidden here.”

  We spend the rest of the night combing through the books, the desk, the abandoned personal effects… and we come up empty. There’s simply nothing else here that can point us in the right direction.

  It’s almost dawn, and we’re both tired and frustrated. I clasp my hands on top of my head and take a deep breath.

  “I guess that’s all for now,” I say. “Let’s go get some sleep.”

  She yawns. “Good idea. Come to my room?”

  I smile and nod. “It’ll be like old times.”

  Arms linked, we leave the office behind and head off to get some much-needed rest. It’s been a long week.

  I glance at my glowing complexion in the mirror. My eyes are dark and the freckles from my face are gone. It feels good to see my own reflection again. The girls are fast asleep and I’m about to sneak up to Lockwood’s tower. I want to be myself when it’s just the two of us. So far, only Broin and my sister know who I am, and I figured it was high time Professor Lockwood met the real Ravyn Hemlock. There’s really no point in pretending to be my sister when it’s just me and him.

  Lifting my red hood over my head, I slip my assignment into my pocket and tiptoe out of the room. Broin left an hour ago. He and Redera wanted to go into the woods and make potions. I love that they’re able to do that again. We used to go together at least once a week—collect all the ingredients and sit under the moon, bottling the potions up—but I have other plans tonight. And I’ll probably be too exhausted to do anything afterward.

  Spotting Mrs. Thornhart’s familiar prowling down the hallway, I quickly cast an invisibility glamor. All these nights sneaking out past curfew, it still amazes me that I haven’t been discovered by Thornhart and her precious whistle yet. A wicked grin slides onto my lips as I make my way through the empty common room and down the stairs.

  As I step into the passageway that leads to Lockwood’s tower, the cool air sighing through the porticoes lifts the hem of my cloak and flashes my gothic leather boots. I hope Lockwood appreciates the outfits I put on especially for him. The tight leather dress and corset are heavily constricting my breathing, but damn is it worth it, because I look and feel like a fucking goddess.

  I practically hop into Lockwood’s tower and climb the stairs two at a time. Once I arrive at the top, I find a row of candles on each side of the staircase that take me by surprise. Their soft glow swells against the granite, beaming off the brass sconces on the walls. Lockwood’s door is slightly ajar and I can hear classical music playing quietly in the background. I expect to see a record player when I creep into his room. But in the far upper corner, a piano plays magically and ever so softly.

  “I thought you weren’t the sentimental type?” I ask my headmaster, watching him pour two glasses of whiskey at his cleared mahogany desk. “This set-up is… Well, it’s romantic as fuck, Sir.”

  Loc
kwood turns around slowly, but his face is filled with mock horror. “Ever the wordsmith, Hemlock.” He hands me a glass, and I tentatively take a sip, blinking up at him through my thick lashes. “I thought perhaps you needed something stiff down you.”

  Now it’s my turn to look falsely appalled. “I can think of better stiff things, Sir, believe me.”

  His lip twitches. “All in good time.”

  My breath catches in my throat as I watch him reach out and lift my chin. His eyes search my own as if he’s seeking something in particular. There’s hunger in his gaze, but there’s also something violent, perhaps because he’s a little drunk. It gives me a thrill.

  “What are you doing?” I breathe out, my heart thrashing with anticipation.

  “I want to see you.” His hot breath fans down my flushed cheeks, and he unhooks my cloak, letting the material fall onto the floor. “I want to taste you.” Wrapping his fingers around my neck, he lifts me onto my tiptoes and claims my mouth, spearing me with his tongue. “And I want to fuck every inch of your sweet pussy.”

  He harshly grips my ass and spanks me on each cheek, leaving a searing handprint through my dress. I let out a surprised yelp and grin up at him. I’ve never seen Lockwood drunk before, but I’m definitely a fan of his lack of inhibitions. He’s relaxed for once and not so overly tense. It’s refreshing to see him like this.

  His fingers glide under my dress and he leisurely slides them along my lower lips. The moan I let out is echoed by a similar grunt of his own as he eases his finger inside, then trails my wetness over my inner thigh, grazing my flesh with his short nails.

  “Always so wet for your Master,” he growls in my ear, “as you should be.”

  His grip on my thigh turns into pain, and I gasp, savoring the sensation.

  “Did you miss me, Sir?” I tease, winking at him.

  “Take off your clothes, Hemlock, and drape yourself on my desk,” he orders, letting me go.

  I pout at his withdrawal but gladly start to remove my clothing. Lockwood stares at me in silence the whole time, his pupils blown, making his eyes appear black instead of blue. When I stand before him utterly naked, he licks the seam of his lips and nods to his desk. I obey his order and, wondering which position to take first, lean over his desk and grip the upper sides.

  “And where’s your assignment?” he asks cooly, his footsteps echoing behind me.

  “In my cloak pocket, Sir.”

  I hear him shuffle through my clothes and drag out the folded parchment. He’s silent for a moment, probably reading what I wrote, and I’m not sure why that embarrasses me so much.

  “I shall mark this once we are done. For now…” His hand falls on my ass and he kneads where he struck moments before. “Let’s see if you have returned to me in one piece.”

  He presses his palm to the small of my back, pushing my torso down so I can present my ass to him. He taps my ankle with his foot and I widen my legs, gripping the desk harder as I await his perusal. Every prolonged second feels like an eternity. His fingers slide down to spread my cheeks and a trickle of cool air fans my hole. I expect to feel him thrust into me, but instead he simply checks me over. He runs his hands down my legs, inside and out, and then up my back, around my neck, under my arms. When he gently swipes his fingers over my pussy, I let out a frustrated moan.

  What is he doing? He’s being unusually tender with me. It’s like he’s afraid I’ll break into a pile of shattered porcelain. I thought he understood that I want the pain? Why I need and crave it?

  Finally, he touches where I want him to. The tip of his finger circles my clit and pleasure builds instantly in the depth of my being. His other hand finds purchase on my ass again, and he slides a wet thumb around my hole. The digit is soon replaced with his tongue, and he laps at me while torturing my clit until I’m shuddering. But then the asshole just pulls away from me, and starts checking my body again.

  What… the fuckity fuck… is going on here?

  “Please, Sir…” I beg, slamming my palms against the desk. “I need… want you to hurt me. Please!”

  Lockwood pulls away and I whimper. Fuck! “You want it rough, witch?”

  I nod, too irritated to respond, my body breaking out in a sweat.

  “I asked you a question,” Lockwood growls, slapping my pussy three times, and then twisting my lips. “Answer me properly. Do you want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk, Miss Hemlock?”

  I hiss at the beautiful surge of pain that grips me and nod frantically. “Yes!” I practically scream the word out. “I want you to fuck me hard, Sir, so fucking hard I can’t breathe nevermind walk.”

  Professor Lockwood chuckles wickedly.

  In one impossibly swift movement, he unhooks his belt and wraps it around my throat, cutting off my air. His hulking body looms over me as he buries his cock into my pussy. His thrusts lift me off the desk, so I hold on tighter, the lack of oxygen making me dizzy. He’s fucking me within an inch of my life and it’s glorious. Sweet, barbaric pain ripples through me in vicious waves, leaving a path of aches that tingle in my fingertips and toes.

  Darkness threatens to overtake me, my body too starved of air. Lockwood must sense this and loosens his grip on the belt, allowing me to breathe before I pass out. Blissfully, he doesn’t slow his violent thrusts. If anything, he fucks me harder, faster, deeper, and it’s all too much. I give in to the intoxicating pleasure and let go. I scream out in ecstasy, my moans muffled by the surface of the desk. They wrack through my body, leaving me trembling under him and my pussy clenching around his cock. Lockwood chases his own release, and soon his seed is spilling into me.

  He places his hands at either side of my head, panting and shaking. Three slow thrusts milk him of every last droplet of cum, and when he pulls out, he quickly shoves something cold and metal inside. I grin, recalling the plug he’d used on me during the festival’s feast. Ahh, such fond, naughty memories.

  After a moment of breathless pants, Professor Lockwood steps back and I puddle against the desk, completely fucked brainless.

  “I’m not done with you yet.” He removes his belt from my throat, lifts me off the desk and wraps my twitching legs around his waist. “You’re spending the night with me, witch, whether you want to or not.”

  I hold onto his neck as he veers toward his bedchamber. I’m nothing but jelly in his arms, barely knowing up from down right now, but one thing is for damn sure… I’m always ready for a round two dick session.

  In the middle of the night, while I’m sleeping wrapped up in Lockwood’s arms, I find myself tumbling into an alternate reality. I know immediately that this is no ordinary dream. The colors are too vivid, the sensations too immediate and strong. I’m walking through a royal palace, and even though I’ve never been there before, I just know that I’m in Talia. There’s nobody else here, and I wander through the deserted halls, listening to the way my footsteps echo off the marble floor.

  As I turn a corner into a dimly-lit side corridor, I hear Esmeralda’s voice up ahead.

  “Ravyn.”

  I look up and see her standing at the end of the hall, just in front of an iron-banded wooden door. I walk toward her, and the door swings open, revealing a set of stairs. Esmeralda waits for me to reach her, and then she leads me up the stairs, turning every so often to make certain that I’m still following.

  The staircase is long and spiraling, and I get the feeling that we’re headed to the top of a very tall tower. I’m glad this is a dream, because even though I’m in good shape, I’d be huffing and puffing by now in real life.

  At the top of the stairs is another heavy door, and it, too, swings open as if under its own power. There’s a room on the other side, tiny and cramped, with one arrow-slit window allowing light to come in. The shadows are thick, but I can see a spinning wheel standing alone in the corner. It’s coated with dust and the wood shows signs of rot, but there’s something malevolent about it.

  Esmeralda leads the way into the room and
stands in front of the spinning wheel. She touches the crumbling wood with a gentle hand.

  “The first key,” she says.

  As soon as she says the words, the room bursts into flames, and a circle of red fire rushes at me as if it’s trying to attack. I duck to get out of the way of the onrushing blaze, and in real life, I twitch so hard that I wake up both myself and Lockwood.

  “Ravyn,” he says, his voice gruff from sleep. “Are you all right?”

  I press a hand to my heart. “Nightmare.”

  He pulls me in tight and kisses my forehead. It’s a surprisingly tender thing to do, and I don’t quite know how to react.

  “You’re safe,” he says softly.

  I feel safe. I also feel like he’d never be this sweet if he were fully awake. I decide to enjoy it while I can and pillow my head on his broad, tattooed chest.

  “I know.”

  I’m ravenous as can be at breakfast, and Sirena watches in amusement as I wolf down more or less everything in sight.

  “I take it you’ve never seen food before?” she teases.

  “Apparently not.” I grin at her. “Sometimes a girl just needs to eat, you know?”

  Alice sits down with her tray. She pokes at the scrambled eggs on her plate, and she’s far less enthusiastic about the morning’s repast than I am. She scowls at the eggs and pushes the plate away.

  “Not hungry?” Sirena asks, nibbling on a strip of bacon.

  Alice shakes her head. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Me, neither,” I admit.

  ‘“I’m not surprised, considering you were sleeping someplace other than your own bed,” Sirena teases. She wipes her fingers on her napkin. “Wanna tell us where you were?”

  I grin at her. “Pass.” I look back at Alice. “Did you have bad dreams, sweetie?”

  “Are there any other kind?” She sighs. “I think I was out wandering all night. Jasper said I was looking for something.”