Once Upon A Witch: A Dark Academy Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Everafter Academy Book 2)

by Tiegan Clyne

  “What’s wro—”

  “Quiet,” he hushes, glancing around the clearing. His body is rigid, not even the muscles in his face are moving. Slowly his eyebrows draw together. “Wait here.”

  He’s marching away before I can utter a protest. I open my mouth to shout out his name, then I quickly press my lips together, unsure what he’s picked up. It could be a troll for all I know and I don’t really fancy being its supper. They’re disgusting creatures.

  Lockwood stays close by, though his attention is focused on doing recon around the clearing. I unsheath my dagger and try to cut through the branch. I saw as fast as I can but it doesn’t seem to be working. The only thing it’s giving me is a cramp in my wrist. Frustrated, I scan the clearing for Lockwood. I can just see the outline of his body standing by the entrance. I part my lips to call for his help, but that’s when I hear the steady growl of a nearby wolf.

  Panic grips me. Suddenly I’m slashing and sawing through the branch with everything I’ve got. If we’re about to be ambushed, I’m not going to hang here looking pretty. It’ll be my dagger sliding through the mutt’s throat.

  “It’s a Witch Hunter,” I cry out to Lockwood, frantically attacking the branch. “Please untie me!”

  He hurries across the clearing, wand at the ready, but he’s too late.

  The wolf is already here.

  Everything happens so quickly. Too quickly. One moment I’m looking at Lockwood and the next an enormous grey wolf is charging toward me, the gold medallion around its neck gleaming in the moonlight.

  A loud whistle tears through the atmosphere and ribbons of water shoot from the puddles. They coalesce and transform into a wall of electric-blue fire that forms a protective circle around me and the tree that’s keeping me prisoner. Wolves aren’t particularly fond of fire, so when this one reaches the edge of the circle, it swiftly bounces back and gnashes its blood-stained teeth at me. Its medallion carries the Crown of Reyna, signifying it’s from the Penny Royal Pack and not Rosso Lupa.

  Oh well. Killing this guy still means one less wolf hunting my people. All in all, if I could cut myself free and jump through this fire without bursting into flame, tonight will be more satisfying than I imagined.

  Finally, my knife cuts through the branch. I shake the numbness from my left hand, clench my dagger into my right, and look for a gap in the fire. Through the crackling sapphire flames, Lockwood is fighting off the wolf with his bare hands.

  Blow after blow crashes into the beast’s skull, but its jaw remains latched on Lockwood’s hand as if it’s the juiciest steak at the market. The thick, coppery tang of blood oozes into the air“Professor, let me help you!”

  He doesn’t even glance my way. His free, uninjured hand is trying to pry the wolf’s teeth out from his bleeding flesh. The more he does this, though, the deeper he injures himself. I pace in front of the fire, scrambling for a way to help him. There must be something I can do. Even casting a spell will be useless. The sapphire glow, tinged slightly with flecks of emerald, is a powerful protection spell, just like the one Broin used when he locked me in his cabin.

  But Lucifer had rendered me mortal back then. I was utterly useless without my power. Perhaps now, with the stronger magic coursing through my veins, I can counteract the spell? It’s worth a try. Anything is better than just watching my headmaster get mauled by a wolf.

  I gather a ball of dark energy into my palm and throw it into the fire. There’s a loud crack, then a sizzle as my spell fails and the magic evaporates into thin air. Lockwood is too powerful. Nothing can penetrate his spell. What should I do?

  What can I do?

  A loud shriek cuts through the air. I turn just in time to see Lockwood drive his wand through the creature’s skull. Blood gushes and sprays over his face. He lunges for the neck, and with one impossibly swift movement, he yanks out the wolf’s throat with his hands. I’ve never seen a man so demented before, so intent on killing and shedding blood. He’s bathed in it, his hands, his face, even his eyes are coated in the dark liquid.

  He dumps the carcass to the ground. His suit has been viciously torn, displaying parts of his heaving, blood-covered chest. When I lift my gaze and meet his eyes, he’s staring right at me, a savage look on his face. It makes my heart flutter and parts of my body clench with desire.

  Without saying anything, he strides through the fire and not a single flame stands in his way. They seem to bend around him as he bandages his wounded hand with a scrap of clothing, his eyes intent on my own like a predator that’s spotted its prey. I felt just like that when I was tied to the tree. I felt like my ancestors, helpless before the cruelty of a fire about to engulf them.

  He pulls me into his arms, crashing his mouth against mine in a desperate rage of passion. The adrenaline. The blood. The desire stretching between us. It’s all so beautifully intoxicating as he wraps my legs around his waist and shoves me against the tree.

  My dress is barely lifted when he’s inside me, filling my pussy with deep, powerful thrusts that snatch my breath away. It’s like a drug I never want to come down from. A moment in time I want to last forever. Just the two of us here, entwined, lost to the power of ecstasy and that sweet, sinister pain I so often crave.

  The pain Professor Lockwood has promised to give me.

  I can taste blood on his lips, feel the anger consuming his body. It’s transmitting through movements, every brush of his skin against mine. His grip is harsh and painful, caging me within an iron-tight hold. It bruises my flesh. Even my insides are at his mercy, and I love it.

  Crave it.

  Want it.

  Need it.

  I’m just putty in his arms, ready for him to mold, to fuck, to fill to his heart’s content. Every thrust hits that sweet spot inside and clouds my thoughts with spine-tingling desire. I can barely breathe, his movements are so fast. He’s knocking the air from my lungs and all thoughts of revenge from my mind. I can’t even hate that I wasn’t the one to kill that wolf. All I can think about are my headmaster’s arms on my body, his cock inside me, each thrust shoving me harder into the tree.

  There’s a franticness about his movements. I can feel it in the way he holds me, the manner in which his hands stake claim on my body, the way he fists my hair and leans down, his pants stuttering through my ear.

  When he took me to his chamber last week, things were different. They were formal, even, just an arrangement he wanted no part of. Even the way he asked about contraception was perfunctory and without any signs of tact or genuine interest.

  Of course, I explained that witches like me can’t get pregnant that easily. The potion given to all Darkbloods on the day of their first menstrual cycle makes sure of that. While we can reverse the spell any time after our seventeenth birthday, I’ve never really bothered. The last thing I need in my life right now is a babe.

  I thread my fingers through Lockwood’s hair, grasping onto him as he fucks me against the tree. His rapid breaths turn into guttural moans in my ear, and his thrusts increase, fucking me harder, deeper, to the point of pain.

  I clench my muscles around his cock, and the instant his cum floods my pussy, my own insides explode. I’m trembling and whimpering, holding onto him with every last ounce of strength I possess. My body slackens in his arms, and I feel warm all over, bathed in the throes of pleasure.

  “I’m not done with you yet, witch.” Lockwood’s voice is dark with conviction, laced with impending promise.

  “Well I’m all—all for round two,” I manage to say over gasps.

  His cock is still wedged in me, hard and ready to go again, much to my delight. But then I feel something odd happening. He’s growing larger inside my pussy, stretching me to its limits, until another rapid warmth gushes through me, and he stills.

  This time his cum is hotter, nearly scalding, and feels as though it’s filling my entire body. Every last droplet sends a burst of stars dancing over my vision. I open my mouth to let out a moan, but the ensuing scream t
akes me by surprise, the sound alien to my own ears.

  I throw my head back and dig my nails into Lockwood’s shoulders, overcome by an intense rush of pleasure. The aftershocks leave me trembling and panting like a senselessly fucked whore. His hand slapping me on the ass makes me feel like one.

  “Sweet…unholy…fuck that was amazing,” I gasp, my heart thrashing like wild pistons in my chest. It’s like he’s fucked the words right out of me. I can hardly breathe, let alone think straight. “What in the name of Lucifer was that, Sir?”

  Professor Lockwood pulls his mouth into a lopsided grin. “Marking my territory.”

  “Your what?”

  He moves his hips a little, pushing his cock in deeper. “Your pussy was fucked once already today, wasn’t it?”

  Thinking it wise to tell the truth, I nod. It’s not like I’m a saint or anything. “I was teaching a naughty boy a lesson in decorum.”

  “A lesson in decorum?” He huffs and pulls out of me slowly. Placing me gently on the ground, he looks down his nose at me and adds, “I don’t care what you get up to with my students. You want pain, and in exchange for giving you that, I want your cunt fucked and filled every night you spend with me. That's the rules.”

  I shudder, pleased by the possessive note in his voice. “You have such a poetic way with words, Sir, have I ever told you that?”

  He adjusts himself, his shrewd eyes giving me a fleeting once over. “If I’m to be tempted by the devil, Miss Hemlock, I might as well enjoy the ride.”

  My grin widens into a rather bashful smile. “When you put it like that…It sounds like a match made in Hell.”

  By the time I cover myself and drape my cloak over my shoulders, Lockwood has pulled his wand out of the wolf’s skull.

  “Its pack is probably close by,” he says, motioning his wand over his body. Stitch by stitch, his clothes mend together, revealing nothing of what transpired just moments before. “Let’s go home.”

  Home…

  I guess Everafter is my home now. It’s the only place I have left where I’m not haunted by memories of my loved ones.

  “Wake up, Redera, wake up!”

  The urgency in Alice’s tone cleaves through my nightmare.

  I open my eyes to see my roommate frowning over me. Her lips are moving, her arms are shaking me from side to side, but I can’t seem to register anything. All I can hear are my sister’s screams and the Witch Hunters laughing as they tie Grandma to their horse and drag her around our home.

  My heart is racing and my whole body is bathed in sweat. That nightmare was a million times more unbearable than the one yesterday. I was in raven form again, watching from the ash tree, once more powerless to intervene. Why am I even having these visions? I wasn’t there when the hunters attacked. It doesn’t make any sense. Unless…they’re Broin’s memories? My heart sinks at the prospect, but it would explain why I was a raven in the first nightmare. When I glance down at Broin, he gives a slow nod.

  “You were thrashing in your sleep again,” Alice explains softly, letting go of my shoulders. She’s sitting on the edge of my bed with Broin hopping frantically beside her. Sirena is sound asleep in her own bed. That girl can sleep through anything. “I didn’t want to wake you, but Broin seemed really distressed. He kept cawing at you.”

  An unexpected warmth rushes into my cheeks. “Urgh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  She quirks an eyebrow. “Wake me, the insomniac? Are you joking?”

  I snort, kicking off my blankets. “That’s true. Still, I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass.”

  “It’s no biggie.” Gently brushing her fingertips down Broin’s back, she asks, “Who’s Esmeralda?”

  The question catches me off guard, and the blood drains from my face. “She’s a…distant relative of sorts. How come?”

  “You were calling out her name. Were you having a nightmare?”

  I don’t answer her. Honestly, I don’t have to.

  “Maybe we should both try your Grandma’s sleeping potion,” she suggests casually, “ground squirrel brains or whatever weird thing it was.”

  “Liver,” I correct her, laughing.

  Broin’s eyes are fixed on me, but he’s not saying anything. He doesn’t really need to. I’ve never been subject to nightmares before, and the destruction of my family has put me in a bad place. He’s concerned about me.

  I give him a smile and a little head shake, trying to show him that I’m all right, but he doesn’t buy it. He hops away to perch on the headboard of my bed and gazes out the window.

  “I don’t know much about squirrel livers, but I do know a thing or two about nightmares,” Alice tells me. “Come with me.”

  We get dressed and I follow her into the hallway. She walks as silently as a mouse. I manage to be almost as quiet as we make our way into the service corridor. She leads the way through one of the dozen or so maintenance closets. Closing the door softly behind us, she grabs a light fixture from the wall and gives it a twist. There’s a grating sound as the bricks slide back and out of the way, revealing another secret passage.

  “How do you know about all of these things?” I ask, tilting my head at her. “For Lilith’s sake, how many of these are there?”

  “When you don’t sleep, you have time to explore places nobody ever goes. And how many of what do you mean?”

  Alice waves me through the opening, then she follows. There’s an identical wall fixture on this side and she twists this one, too. The hole in the wall closes as if it had never been there. This time, I catch the faint whiff of magic.

  “How many secret corridors?” I answer.

  She shrugs. “Just enough. Come on.”

  With Alice leading the way again, we go down a cramped channel in the stones of the wall. It’s too narrow to be a hallway and calling it an access corridor would give it delusions of grandeur. It’s little more than an air shaft, and it’s a good thing neither one of us are heavy eaters. A full grown man, especially a big man like Lockwood, could never fit through this space.

  I’m just starting to feel a little claustrophobic when the shaft opens and I’m standing on an exterior ledge that’s about a foot wide. There’s a metal ladder bolted to the stone wall and Alice climbs it nimbly. I follow her up onto the roof. From this vantage point, I can see the entire school. If I turn around—slowly, because the slate roof is at a dangerous pitch and I don’t want to fall to my death—I can see all four gates. Alice plops down on the tile and turns her face to the east.

  “I come here when I have nightmares,” she says softly. “I love watching the sunrise. It drowns out the darkness for a while, you know?”

  I sit down beside her, our shoulders almost touching. She’s had it rough. I know she has. I want to ask her for her story, but that would be prying, and if I want her to leave my past alone, the least I can do is return the favor. I turn and look east, too.

  The dark forest is slowly illuminated by the rising sun, changing from black to deep green. The sky itself is a riot of color, with the dark purple of the night being chased away by blushing pink and orange. I prefer the night, being a Darkblood, but I have to admit that the sight is rather breathtaking.

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell her.

  There’s movement by the front gate and I’m surprised to see Lockwood, his wand in his hand. He’s casting something over the gate and the driveway, both of which flare bright blue for a moment before they vanish into the early morning shadows again.

  “What the heaven is he up to?” I wonder aloud.

  To my surprise, Alice answers me. “Preparing the grounds for the people from Nevermore. They’re coming today for the festival.”

  Oh, fuck. The Festival of Light. Sweet Satan save me. I totally forgot about this event. It always falls on the second week after school starts. I’ve never celebrated it, obviously, but according to what I’ve heard, it’s intended to be a time of peace when the heroes and heroines from Everafter get the chance to meet the villa
ins from Nevermore. We all have parts to play in each other’s stories, and this week-long event is meant to be a detente where the light folk and the Darkbloods can get to know one another. I suppose it’s for bonding and brotherhood or some other such bullshit. Nice thought. Too bad that’s not what happens in real life.

  The Festival of Light, which was supposed to be a feel-good unity thing, has become a competition. Every year, the students and staff from one school go to the grounds of the other school, and the students compete in everything from magical spelling bees to Flick matches. There’s even a masqued ball, and everybody tries to out-dress and out-dance their rivals. This year, Everafter is hosting the festivities. Next year, it’ll be Nevermore’s turn.

  A lot of people enjoy the Festival of Light. The goody-two-shoes crowd pretend they don’t hate the villains for a week, and the villains pretend they’re not plotting the heroes’ demise. Everybody lies to everyone else and the whole Great Forest stinks with hypocrisy.

  I don’t want to rub shoulders with the students and staff from Nevermore. It’s not that I hate them, because obviously I don’t. It’s that I don’t want any of them to get close enough to recognize that I’m really one of them. I wish I could sit this one out.

  “The Nevermorians are coming at nightfall,” Alice explains, looking at me. “That means today we’re going to be decorating.”

  “Paper streamers and big signs that say ‘Welcome to Everafter?’” I snort, rolling my eyes.

  Alice snickers. “Maybe. If there are signs, Aurora and her girls will probably be the ones to paint them. Maybe Gideon and Erik, too.” Her face darkens. “Sirena was with Erik last night, and when she got back, she cried herself to sleep. I don’t know what he’s doing to her, but he’d better knock it off.”

  I don’t have anything to say about Erik right now that wouldn’t result in a long-distance hex, so I keep quiet on the subject. I’d like to know what he’s doing to her, as well.