Last Chance Academy

by Alex Lidell

  “This isn’t the thirteenth century, Samantha. Killing has consequences.” He opened the door to the bathroom, the gleaming white tile complementing the matte gold faucet handles that Cassis had had the designer shape like wolf heads in honor of Ellis and Asher. That way, he could wring their necks each time he turned the water on. “Also, taking another’s blood without permission is impolite.”

  Samantha laughed, the musical sound making Cassis’s chest—and other parts—clench uncomfortably. If Ellis had been a bastard to send the girl his way, then Cassis was no better now, allowing her to lean into him. To think that he could be trusted.

  Enough.

  Moving quickly enough to leave the girl gasping, Cassis put both his hands on the edge of the sink, trapping her in the circle of his arms. Sam swallowed as he loomed over her, piercing her with a look that sent most full vampires to their knees.

  Cassis could hear Sam’s pulse quicken, smell the scent of sudden, overdue fear that spilled into her blood—and all the time, her face never shifted from that fiery stubbornness that seemed to be her signature look. Reaching to Sam’s neck, he ran the tip of his blunt nail across the soft spot that twitched with every beat of her heart.

  “Blood is powerful,” he said, the shiver running through Sam’s body confirming the darkness in his voice. “One mouthful and I will know your secrets, Samantha. I will taste your very life. Don’t mistake my control for safety. Not with me. Not with any of my kind. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah.” She pushed his hand away, breaking eye contact with too great an ease. “Thank you for, err, not drinking my blood and secrets there, Dracula. I’ll be sure to stock up on garlic and holy water for the next time I see you. And a cross. Better safe than sorry, right?”

  Bloody hell, she was incorrigible. Cassis shook his head, the grin he’d been really, really trying to hide escaping onto his face. How long had it been since a female could go toe to toe with him? To rouse a deep protective instinct? “I like garlic, holy water most often comes from the tap, and I’ve known more than one vampire to take up the cloth. What the bloody hell are the geniuses at the Academy teaching you?”

  “How to fall on my ass, mostly.”

  “You are a lost cause, Samantha.” Cassis shook his head. Rebellious red-streaked hair, a stubborn mouth, eyes alight with all the energy of the world despite everything that had just happened to her. And beyond that, if he looked closely enough, a flicker of loneliness. And far too much bravery. Any other nonvampire would never have set foot into Dusk. For reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, he ached to brush Sam’s face, to feel her smooth creamy skin. Reaching behind her, and squashing that ache with a firm shove, Cassis turned on the faucet instead and nudged her hand under the running water.

  The scent of her blood rose into the air at once, the pink-tinged water sparking like wine, down to the tiny little bubbles. For all the self-control Cassis usually possessed—he hadn’t been joking about the medical degrees, though those were back from a time he’d given a damn—he turned his face away. When he finally peered down to examine Sam’s palm, his whole body froze at the star-shaped scar looking back at him.

  For the second time in his life, Cassis had been sucker punched by a witch.

  16

  Sam

  “What is that?” Cassis demands, a growl rising through his chest. My head spins in an effort to work out what the hell just happened, and it takes several moments and more of his growling to work out that the vampire is talking about the puckered star-shaped scar over my palm. Courtesy of one of my foster mothers, who thought a heated paperweight would make just the right discipline tool for a wayward brat.

  I yank my hand away. “Nothing.”

  Everything around Cassis suddenly chills to ice. “Don’t lie to me.”

  My heart stutters, a healthy wave of fear suddenly rushing through my veins. I back away, sticking my hand into my pocket, a move that’s become instinct by now. A way to avoid the conversation I’ve had for years. I was playing near the radiator at home. My mom told me to be careful so many times. But I was silly. I touched a hot handle. Yes, it’s star shaped. Burned my palm. I should have listened to Mom. I’m very sorry.

  “Tell me!” Cassis’s voice thunders through the apartment with the wrath of a storm, echoing off the white tile.

  “A burn,” I snap back at him. “From childhood. I grabbed a hot knob on a heater at our apartment.”

  His eyes darken, the sudden turn to revulsion—to hatred—in their black depths making me gasp for breath. “You are lying to me, witch.”

  I shove him away, my palms hitting a chest as hard and immobile as Ellis’s. “Fuck off, Cassis. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

  “No?” Cassis’s hand, which so gently tended my cuts minutes ago, wraps itself in my hair. He yanks my head up and to the side, his beautiful face full of such menace that it’s all I can do to bite back a scream. “You shouldn’t have come,” he growls, his elongated canines flashing in the florescent light.

  And then I do scream. In terror and then in pain as Cassis’s teeth sink into the soft spot of my neck. All of Ellis’s lessons flee from me as I flail against Cassis’s unyielding hold, my fist and legs striking whatever they can find as the world swims around me. Before going dark.

  I come awake to a set of strong hands cradling me against a muscular chest, Cassis’s smooth, heady musk washing through my senses. His polished piano sits silently in my line of sight. My neck is sore, and I reach up to finger a piece of gauze covering the side of it. Then the memories return, and I fling myself off the couch with the speed of a raging bull. Or try to. I actually end up stumbling off, only to be caught by Cassis’s hands before my face hits the ground.

  Without needing to be told to get the hell away from me, he deposits me on the couch and steps away, the brooding guilt on his face making his jaw clench.

  “What. The hell. Happened?” My words come in pants, my hands curling into fists.

  “I bit you.” Another tic twitches along Cassis’s jaw, and he steps away to pour two glasses of whiskey, placing one on the low table beside me. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I let out a shaking breath. Insane. The vampire is fucking insane. Or maybe I’m the insane one, having followed Ellis’s advice to come here. “Right. Very…impolite.” I look at the door, wondering if my legs will support me if I try to stand. How much blood did I lose? My hand tightens on the glass, a very different thought rushing through me. “Am I… Did you…”

  “You are still a witch, Samantha. You’d know if you were turned, trust me. For one thing, it requires dying.” The hint of amusement in Cassis’s tone dies as quickly as it flared. “You passed out from the shock, not blood loss. I took only a mouthful. Enough to know you’re an innocent in all this.”

  I rub my palm, seeing Cassis’s muscles go rigid at the sight of the scar.

  “All what?”

  He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Back when there were more of your kind around, a witch and I had a bit of a disagreement. Your scar reminded me of something she did, but that something had nothing to do with a heated paperweight.” Cassis’s nostrils flare at that, and I remember him mentioning something about blood holding information.

  “Do you know all of my life now?” I cross my arms over my chest, feeling naked.

  Putting down his drink, Cassis crouches beside me. “No, Samantha. I took one mouthful, and with it whatever emotions and memories coursed through it at the time. Given that we’d been discussing the burn, I know how you got it, but not much more than that.” He lowers his head, his broad shoulders falling in apology beneath the expensive suit. “I…apologize.”

  I’ve had people hurt me plenty. Apologize for it? That’s a first. Which is fairly messed up as far as life is concerned. I’m not sure what to make of any of this, beyond the fact that Ellis set me up and I hate him.

  “Let’s get back to the all this you so skillfully brushed past,” I say, shooti
ng him a hard look. If Cassis is actually half as contrite as he’s letting on, he owes me. “How do you know Ellis, and what does my scar have to do with anything?”

  Cassis pinches the bridge of his nose and looks at me from under those dark lashes. “Let’s agree that I owe you a favor.”

  I smile like a fox. “Yes, let’s. And I’m collecting. Talk.”

  “You have a favor from me, and you want to use it on a bit of four-hundred-year-old gossip?” Cassis cocks a brow, but I can see there’s strain behind it.

  “Yep,” I say without hesitation. Another thing I’ve learned in foster care is that you never ever take a promise of later payment. A quarter now is worth more than a dollar never.

  Cassis finishes his whiskey in a single gulp and gets to his feet. Setting the empty glass on the piano top, he takes off the black Versace and undoes the black-diamond cuff links. The red shirt is barely wrinkled, and for an idiotic second, I wonder if the vampire does his own ironing. The thought of Cassis, bare to the waist beside an ironing board, his muscles shifting as he gets his things together, is as delicious as it’s absurd.

  Then Cassis reaches around himself to pull the shirt off, and all the images swimming in my head shatter in an instant.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demand, wobbling slightly as I jump to my feet and maneuver to get the couch between us.

  “I’m answering your question,” Cassis answers calmly. “As you requested.”

  A tug of fabric and the male is bare to the waist, the smooth, square muscles of his abdomen stacked like a wall of perfectly cut stones. Taut pale skin stretches over a broad, muscled chest, the warm lighting sculpting the shadows into an artistic perfection that sends a wave of heat to my cheeks. And to other places.

  Instead of preening, however—which, let’s be honest, he has every right to be doing with that body—Cassis gives his empty glass a mournful look and turns his back to me, his hands bracing against the piano.

  My breath halts, and I’m moving toward Cassis before I can think through the wisdom of it. Moving toward the star-shaped burn mark right there over his shoulder blade, the puckered skin thick and stark. When I brush the tip of my finger over his skin, Cassis flinches as if struck, his grip on the piano blanching his knuckles. But he holds still anyway, even with the fine tremor that rushes through his body.

  “Who did this?” I ask.

  “A witch named Sienna.” Cassis steps away, turning to face me. “Vampires, fae, and witches were at each other’s throats at the time. Much like now, but without the pretend honey layer of civility. That was before Talonswood became neutral ground too. Sienna and I were natural enemies, but…” He shrugs one powerful shoulder. “I fell in love. More than that, I thought I was mating, that Sienna had a piece of my soul.”

  Cassis gives me a humorless smile and goes to refill his glass. “She had similar thoughts for that soul of mine. She tried to cut it out with a spell. Literally.” He says nothing for a few moments as he takes another drink before pulling his shirt back on. “Vampires don’t usually scar —or, more accurately, we do, but the marks fade in time. Sienna’s work… Well. She put some effort in.”

  My heart clenches, and I reach toward the male, pulling back before making contact. No wonder he dislikes witches. And star-shaped scars. “What happened to Sienna?” I ask, curling my hand into a fist to keep from brushing his face. “Did you kill her?”

  Cassis shakes his head. “We couldn’t. But never underestimate the destructive power of humans. What four immortals couldn’t accomplish, the Spanish Inquisition took care of with brutal efficiency.”

  “Four immortals?”

  “That is not my story to tell. And you should be getting back to the Academy.” Cassis reaches into his back pocket for a cell phone, the vulnerable male from a few moments ago gone behind the suave cockiness I met earlier. “I’m going to ask Reese to come get you.”

  “No!” I grab his wrist before he can punch in the number, and he freezes, slowly looking from my hand up to my face. My cheeks heat, and I pull away, my attention still on the phone. I don’t know what Reese or the other cadre will do exactly if they catch me out of bounds, but I’m assuming it will hurt.

  “There is no Uber here, Samantha.”

  “I’ll get back on my own.”

  “Not an option.”

  “Like hell it’s not.”

  “I forgot. You’ve been around here ten days. You know everything.” A corner of his mouth twitches, taking the sting out of his words. “Reese or Ellis. Those are your options. Well, or Asher, but I highly, highly recommend you don’t chose that one. Asher likes rules.”

  Before I can reply, the front door opens with a bang, revealing a blond predator whose gaze shoots daggers into Cassis. Holding a phone in his free hand, Ellis spares me half a glance, the hilt of an honest-to-God sword peeking over his shoulder and somehow looking completely right with his fitted jeans and black T-shirt. “Get your coat, Devinee.”

  I glare at Cassis, any kind feelings I’d had toward the male gone in a flash. “You already called him.” The whole pretense of pulling out a phone was just a fucking show. Cassis shrugs without a shred of remorse. “I knew the bastard would be close by. Though I’d hoped not this close. Don’t forget you still owe me for the tab, Samantha.”

  17

  Sam

  Ellis says nothing as he walks me down the stairs and through the club, the menace around him enough to keep the vampires snarling but giving way until we’re at the door. As soon as we get into the cool outside night air, I twist toward him in a silent demand for an explanation. He was the one who set me up for this.

  “Am I going to need tetanus shots thanks to you?” I ask.

  He reaches for my neck and pulls off the bandage, his emotionless expression holding no hint of surprise as he examines the puncture marks. Yes, he did set me up, sending me over to Cassis, who he knew hated witches. Baiting the vampire into an attack. But why? My hand closes around the scar on my palm, and I wonder whether Ellis knew it was there. Whether that scar had anything to do with luring me into Cassis’s lair.

  Fingering the bite mark, I’m surprised to find that it no longer hurts. It seems vampire bites heal faster than normal wounds. Adding that to the list of absurd facts to keep track off, I return to glaring at Ellis. “Well?”

  Instead of answering, he gestures at my outfit with a building storm in his eyes. “I told you to go talk to Cassis. I didn’t tell you to go in looking like vamp bait.”

  I look down at my ruined lace cami, breasts straining out the top, and suddenly feel naked—and ridiculous. “I wasn’t trying to look like—”

  Ellis suddenly steps in close to me so I have to crane my neck back to hold his gaze. “You already smell delicious to them, Devinee. A sizzling steak after a two-week fast. Lust and hunger are nearly one and the same for vamps, so when you look appetizing too, it only intensifies the temptation.”

  “Fuck you, Ellis.” I twist on him. “This whole male thing of ‘dressed like that, you’re asking for me to do whatever I want’ excuse is as fucked up here as anywhere. So don’t even start.”

  Instead of answering, the asshole turns and starts walking before I can say anything, his dark jeans and T-shirt disappearing quickly into the shadows, giving me no choice but to follow. “We will stay to the streets as long as we can, but we will have to go through the woods for a half mile at least. There is only one well-patrolled road to Academy grounds, and you are too fragile to deal with basic punishment.”

  “That isn’t an answer to anything,” I snap. “Why did you set me and Cassis up? Whatever information he learned about me, something tells me he won’t be sending you a report.”

  “He doesn’t need to,” Ellis replies without bothering to look at me. “That fact that you’re still alive provides me all the information I require.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I step in front of Ellis, though I have to nearly jog to get there.
“And does it have anything to do with someone named Sienna?”

  I see it then, a flash of pain in Ellis’s eyes before he schools his expression to neutrality. But before I can press further, the air around the male bends, his body changing before my eyes until there’s a snow-white wolf glaring at me with golden eyes instead. The wolf who I mistook for a dog in the mansion. Holy fucking shit.

  I mean, I knew fae shifted and all, but knowing and seeing it happen aren’t the same thing.

  “Coward,” I tell the animal, not sure whether Ellis’s wolf form can actually understand human.

  The wolf walks around me, and…

  “What the hell?” I jump back as I realize he’s lifted a leg to pee on my boot. Yeah. Lovely. Promising myself that one way or the other I’m going to make Ellis pay for all this, I turn off the road early and head into the woods just to be contrary. I half expect the wolf to get in my way, but the animal plainly has his own preferences and, raising his tail, happily trots into the dark brush and disappears from view.

  After Newark, where bail bonds and strip club signs flashed at all hours, the utter dark silence of Talonswood is downright eerie. About ten minutes into my hike, I’m forced to conclude that I’ve just successfully cut off my nose to spite my face. Despite the moon and star-filled sky, which is the only reason I’m able to see at least the vague outlines of a trail, the forest is even darker than it was when I snuck through it to get to town. At the slower speed I’m walking, the extra half mile or so I’ve added to my route will easily add half an hour. I need to get my hands on a flashlight if I’m going to keep doing this.

  That said, there is a majesty out here. The scents of soil, leaf, and pine are fresh and clean, and though the only forest noise I recognize is that of the owl hooting in the distance, I like the sense of quiet life around me. It’s like being alone but not. Maybe Ellis’s shift into wolf form was to give me these few extra minutes, a small peace offering after setting me up. “This does not make us even,” I say aloud, though I know the asshole can’t hear me. “Not by a long shot.”