Wicked Magic: Harper Shadow Academy (Book Three)

by Luna Pierce

  “Thanks, Syd.” I take a long sip. It’s perfectly warm and hazelnutty.

  “You sure you’re up to this?” Abigail holds the earmuffs out to me.

  No, but what’s the point in potentially ruining something else?

  “Let’s do it.”

  Sydney and I go through the motions. Headgear. Hands. Locking our gazes. The magnificent flow of magic. The bandage doesn’t seem to stop it from coursing into one another.

  Fluorescent pink and bright green sparkles cascade around us.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey, you,” I reply.

  “How are you?”

  “Better now.”

  “Yeah?” He grins.

  “I enjoy our time together. It’s a nice break from the rest of the chaos of the world.”

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “What about you?”

  Sydney shrugs. “I’m okay.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Meh, not really.”

  “I’m always here if you need me.” I hate that he’s internally dealing with things on his own. I understand it’s a touchy subject, considering his parents have basically abandoned him after the whole demon debacle, but that doesn’t mean he should have to deal with it alone.

  Thirty minutes pass of Sydney and I having small talk in our heads together. It’s not deep like some of the conversations we have, but it’s good to sit back and get some one-on-one time with him.

  I nearly jump when Abigail waves her hand in front of us.

  We drag our hands away, breaking the connection.

  “What’s up?” I take the covering off my ears.

  “We’re ready to test it out.” Her eyes are bright with true excitement. “Do you two want to do the honors?”

  Us? Alone? Why does such a simple task seem so scary?

  How has my brain not wrapped itself around the fact that we would be doing this very thing soon?

  “Sure,” Sydney answers. He takes my uninjured hand and leads me to the door.

  Walker and Abigail follow.

  “This is truly astonishing work you two have done. You should be proud.” Walker grips Sydney on the back. “To put it into perspective, with our calculations, this would have taken close to a year without your assistance.”

  “Wow,” I mutter. No wonder why they wanted our help.

  All four of us stand on the outside of the classroom and in unison say, “Infito grantum modem.”

  The purple haze appears in a normal manner, only stronger this time.

  My mind takes me on a journey to the first day I saw the strange violet. I had thought I was going batshit crazy.

  Now it’s something I’ve grown used to. Along with the draining of energy every time I learn more about the supernatural world, and the nonstop buzzing that eventually died down once I familiarized myself with my special peers.

  Sydney weaves his fingers between mine, and we go through.

  Like in the past, I notice no change, my gaze immediately shifting to where the wall and ceiling meet. In confirmation of our success, a small flicker ripples at the seams, but otherwise is fully intact.

  “Holy shit,” Sydney blurts out. “We actually did it.” He reels me in, enveloping me into a hug.

  I enjoy the embrace but don’t dare take my gaze away from the joints keeping the room together. It’s been some time since everything went down, but the fear is still very real, especially with this being the first time I’m stepping foot in the shadow realm since I thought I killed Silas.

  A moment that broke me.

  A moment I will never get past.

  Walker and Abigail smile at each other and wander around the room, checking it over.

  They mumble to one another, and each of them takes notes.

  “We’re going to run tests over the next twenty-four hours, which in here is clearly much longer, and if all goes well, we should be able to offer select classes in here, starting tomorrow.” Walker’s eyes are lit up like Christmas lights. “I really am amazed, you two. This is incredible. The sheer power you share. It’s inconceivable.”

  “Honestly, from my readings, I think the realm is in better shape than it was prior to the damage. More secure.” Abigail puts her pen to her cheek and then writes something down. “Yeah, absolutely.”

  “Well,” I say. “I’m glad we could help. It was my fault and all.”

  “You did us a favor, really.” Walker looks back at me from his place a few feet away where he’s examining the seam.

  “I’m going to head back if that’s okay. I’m feeling a little drained.”

  “Oh, yes. We’ll be right behind you.” Walker frowns slightly, his caring dad-ness coming to the surface. “There are snacks in the front desk if you need a pick-me-up.”

  “Thanks.” I glance at Sydney. “You staying?”

  “I’m going with you.”

  Once again, we lock hands.

  “Infito grantum hodem.”

  The words I spoke when I so frantically tried to get us out of the shadow realm during the attack by the evil demon.

  Are there such things are nice demons?

  We cross over into the normal plane, and a wave of relief floods over me.

  “You okay?” Syd studies me with that concerned Sydney stare of his.

  “It’s a lot,” I admit.

  He nods like he understands and takes me back into his arms.

  I breathe in his earthy scent and let his warming touch soothe me. “You smell good.”

  Sydney smiles into my hair. “So do you. Is that vanilla? It reminds me of these huge flowers that bloom behind my parents’ house. They’re this really pretty light purple and grow up these trellises.”

  “Clematis,” I say, matter-of-fact.

  “Is that what they are?” He takes another whiff and holds me tighter.

  “Probably.”

  Sydney moves away, but only enough to look at my face. He tucks a strand of my disobedient silver hair behind my ear. “I’m proud of you.”

  I furrow my brows. “Why?”

  He runs a finger down my cheek, his gaze trailing it and then back up to mine. “You’ve been through a lot. And here you are. Still going. It’s admirable.”

  What other choice do I have?

  I find myself speechless.

  “I’m not so sure that I could have gotten through any of this without you,” he admits.

  “Syd…”

  The moment slows down, our hug seeming to last forever.

  His eyes flicker to my lips, and a second later, he slowly inches forward. Sydney’s lips meet mine, and it’s not rushed or full of heated desire, it’s… meaningful. Like he’s desperate for me to recognize that he needs me. His kiss speaks a hidden message that only he and I can understand.

  Sydney breaks the connection to leave a kiss on my forehead, and then my nose. They’re both so soft and delicate that my heart stutters.

  A whoosh of air floats by, and Abigail and Walker appear from the purple haze.

  Sydney and I back away from each other hurriedly.

  “We, um, need to get our things,” she says like she’s the embarrassed one.

  “I was just leaving,” I add. “I need to get something from my dorm.” A total lie. If anything, I need to process the feeling from that interaction with Sydney.

  I snatch my bag and bolt from the room, not waiting for a reply. I press my fingers to my mouth and savor the memory of his touch.

  The sound of footsteps follows me down the hall and up the west wing stairs.

  “Willow,” Sydney calls out quietly. With my back to him, he continues forward, stopping with his chest hovering against me. “Did I do something wrong?”

  I shake my head but don’t turn around.

  His tone saddens. “You still haven’t forgiven me.” He exhales. “I’m sorry. I’ll never tell you enough how sorry I am.”

  His weight shifts away from me and creates a coldness where he once was.

>   “I’ll go. I won’t bother you anymore, not until you’re ready, even if that takes an eternity.”

  The thought of him leaving ruins me, the same way it did months ago when I tried to protect them all by distancing myself.

  This is for the better, I had thought. Probably what he does right now, too.

  I spin on my heel, grabbing on to his hand to stop him. “No.”

  His gaze falls to our hold and then rises to my eyes.

  “Don’t go.”

  He takes in a breath and steps close.

  I reach back and open my door, wincing the second my bandage rubs the handle.

  We stumble inside, mouths already finding a home with each other.

  His kiss is like honey, perfectly smooth and sweet.

  I bump into a bed, falling onto my butt. I grin against his lips and go to scoot back, giving him room to climb up, but he stops me.

  Sydney kneels between my legs with his head down.

  I run my fingers through his darky curly hair that falls across his forehead.

  “What’s wrong?” I whisper.

  Those seductively green eyes lock on to mine, and he takes my hand into his.

  “Willow,” his voice appears in my head.

  “Syd…” I grow worried by each passing second.

  “I…” His energy is potently scared.

  His mind is a mess; his thoughts run rampant.

  I can’t make sense of it until all at once, the words become clear.

  A tear wells in the corner of his eye from his admission.

  “Say it out loud,” I say in response.

  He swallows. “I love you.”

  Happiness consumes me, and it’s like a bolt of energy pierces through my body. My senses are heightened, and somehow, I feel more powerful than ever.

  Love sure is a strange thing.

  Would it be foolish of me to think that anything will ever be the same as it was before I thought he betrayed me? Absolutely. But maybe I should get over ever thinking that it should be that way. Sometimes, going through things with someone is what makes your bond stronger than ever. Maybe the rise and fall of our shared trauma will be the glue that keeps us connected, but not out of obligation or necessity, but because we really are good for each other and will overcome any obstacle thrown at us.

  Because we love each other. Not superficially, but deep down, honest to goodness, the real deal… love.

  With my hand still on his, I think into him, “I love you.”

  The smile on his face goes all the way to his eyes, and damn does it fuel my soul. He presses his finger to my lips.

  “I love you, Sydney.”

  He takes my face into his hands, kissing me like he’s afraid I might disappear. His body glides along mine, and we fall back onto the bed.

  Taking his time, he removes every inch of my clothing, lastly my socks. He leaves a trail of kisses up my entire body on his way back, sending chills dancing over my figure.

  I have to be cautious with my wound when I go to try to take his shirt off.

  I flinch, and he hops off the bed and strips the shirt over his head, confirming that he, too, is a sight for sore eyes. The lines of his abs are much more subtle than the other guys, but definitely there and sexy all the same.

  I rest on my elbows, waiting for him a little impatiently. Hearing his confession and watching him undress is enough foreplay for me.

  He takes his time, inching his way on top of me, careful not to bump into my hand.

  Once in place, his firmness tells me that he’s as ready as I am.

  “Are you sure?” he breathes.

  I reel him in for a kiss and reach down, stroking him at the same time, guiding him to my entry.

  He pushes himself so gently into me, easing himself in. He gasps into my mouth in pleasure. Sydney takes it slow, rocking himself back and forth into me with these lengthy and unhurried motions.

  The satisfaction is nothing I’ve ever known and brings me closer and closer to the edge with each deliberately gradual movement.

  Minutes and minutes go by this way. This never picking up, but consistent loving experience.

  Once all the way in, he pauses, trailing my face with his gaze.

  The pressure and angle of his body drives me wild.

  “I love you, Willow Oliver.”

  His words are my undoing, and honestly, I have no fucking clue how it’s possible, considering he wasn’t even fucking moving. I come undone in a powerful mess of emotions, and it’s everything I can do to bite back the scream that nearly leaves my chest.

  He pulls himself out, and despite being in the middle of a forever-long orgasm, I take him into my hand.

  Sydney licks his thumb and presses it to me, sending me over yet another edge and into round two of what I thought would never end. Without hesitating, he leans back down, cascading his lips against mine.

  I don’t stop the up and down of my hand until he finishes onto my stomach, my second release matched up with his.

  Breathless, Sydney rolls onto his side next to me.

  I’m panting and full of life, and my gaze wanders to the clock across the room.

  I sit up in a rush. “Shit, we’re going to be late.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Willow,” Professor Tremont calls out. He points to his palm and motions for me to come over.

  This time, though, I grasp Cameron’s hand and drag him along. I still can’t seem to shake the strange feeling Tremont gives me, so I use Cam to ease the weirdness.

  Cam’s fingers wrap around mine and reassure me he’s more than happy about the decision. His easy-going nature is what makes me care for him even more.

  Speaking of, I need to talk to him about what happened when I burnt myself. It’s not characteristic of him to react the way that he did with Silas. Maybe something is going on with him that he hasn’t told us about.

  “How are you feeling?” Tremont asks.

  “Not bad,” I lie. Don’t get me wrong, the pain is tolerable, but holy shit does it not want to let up. Not to mention, if I accidentally bump into something, it sends spikes down my arm.

  “May I?”

  I hold it out to him, and he glances at the door, what I assume to be checking to make sure the coast is clear.

  He hovers his hand a few inches above mine and closes his eyes, a reddish power flowing from him and into me.

  It’s a cooling flush that eventually becomes lukewarm.

  “That should do it for now. Make sure to find me this evening for another.” He rubs right in the center of his palm with his thumb.

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  We get outside the room, and Cam speaks up. “Is that how he always is?”

  “What do you mean?” I look over my shoulder.

  “I’m probably overthinking it.” He let’s go but then quickly puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “That thing really doesn’t hurt?”

  I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. He totally knows I’m lying. “It doesn’t feel great.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  I shrug. “He’s supposed to be some great healer. Maybe I’m defective.”

  Cam laughs, and it’s fucking adorable, his bright-white teeth showing. “If that’s true, then what does that make me?”

  “Perfect,” I whisper.

  He comes to a complete stop, spinning around and clamping on to my shoulders. “Willow Oliver, did you say that I was perfect?”

  I roll my lips in to seal my mouth shut.

  He grins wide and grabs my face, kissing me on the forehead, then the cheek, the other cheek, my chin, my nose, the top of my head. “You really know how to steal a guy’s heart, don’t you?”

  Little does he know—he already has mine.

  A few more smooches later, he finishes. “See you and the girls later for post-school snacks?”

  “With you cooking, I wouldn’t miss it.” I attempt to wink at him.

  Cameron g
iggles. “You really need to work on that.” He starts walking backward, still facing me. “No getting hurt today, deal?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I make it to speech to find Silas standing near the doorway with his hands folded over his chest, looking grumpy as hell—his usual.

  “Why are you always so mad?” I plant my lips on his cheek.

  “I’m not. That’s just my face.”

  I laugh. “Did you make a joke?”

  “No, I’m serious.”

  Of course, he is, he’s always serious.

  The rest of the day, surprisingly, goes by smoothly.

  I don’t spill, break, or hurt anything, and thankfully, I don’t have the urge to puke. It’s only day two of the new term, but classes are falling into place nicely. We’re even beginning supernatural training tomorrow, which I’m hoping to get to bed early tonight to have plenty of energy tomorrow. All things considered, my luck seems to be turning itself around.

  Maybe that wasn’t the curse after all.

  “You about ready to close up for the day?” Sydney asks me from across the table in the library. A large, old, dusty book sits in his lap.

  A quick look at the clock shows half past eight. If I’m going to get any sleep tonight, I should meet with Tremont and get back to my room so I can shower. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

  We pack our stuff in silence, a calming comfort to his presence. It’s really nice being with Sydney, it’s like there are no expectations, we can strictly exist around one another, and it’s enough.

  Walking up the steps from the basement, Sydney asks, “Any special requests for tomorrow’s coffee?”

  “Surprise me.” I lean into him.

  We go our separate ways, and it’s not until he’s out of sight that I realize I’m going to the infirmary to meet Professor Tremont alone.

  Where is my stalker of a boyfriend, Silas, when I need him?

  I turn the cold handle and step into the sterile room.

  Tremont stirs from behind a desk in the far corner. “Wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”

  “Thanks for waiting around. I got busy in the library going over… some stuff.” I shut the door behind me.

  “Yeah? Have you made any progress on your latest curse?” He focuses on me.