by Tara West
Table of Contents
Academy for Misfit Witches | Academy for Misfit Witches, Book One | A Reverse-Harem Fantasy Romance | Tara West
Dedication
Special Thanks To
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Divine and Dateless
Books by Tara West
About Tara West
Academy for Misfit Witches
Academy for Misfit Witches, Book One
A Reverse-Harem Fantasy Romance
Tara West
Copyright © 2019 by Tara West
Published by Shifting Sands Publishing
First edition, published October, 2019
All rights reserved.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Edited by Theo Fenraven.
Artwork by Vanesa Garkova.
Seraphina Goldenwand, heiress to the largest fortune in all four magical realms, isn’t really a bad girl. At least she tries not to be. A small indiscretion with her professor shouldn’t have resulted in the major scandal that got Serah kicked out of her posh private school and sent to Dame Doublewart’s Academy for Misfit Witches. Her new school is a dungeon—literally. Luckily, three sexy dragon shifters save her from a miserable and lonely detention, and they enjoy a night that will forever alter the course of their lives.
Draque, Teju, and Ladon Firesbreath, wayward dragon princes and masters of mischief, can’t believe their good fortune when they rescue the beautiful witch from a night of fright, then discover she is just as turned on by them as they are by her. Little do they know that while they’re locked away in their protective magical cocoon, someone will raze the school to the ground and frame them for the crime.
Left with no choice but to flee, Serah and the dragon princes are forced to rely on one another. But when their trust in each other is shaken, they must learn to overcome their fears before their enemies find them.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my beautiful and loving mom. Thank you for all of those book club subscriptions when I was a kid and for designated reading time every evening. Thank you for believing in me and for inspiring me to become a writer. I hope I’m making you proud. I still can’t believe you’re gone. I miss you every day. I love you.
Special Thanks To
To Theo, God of Grammar, blessed by the goddess, and tasked to save my ass with your red pen of shame. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
To Ginelle, thanks for always finding my oopsies.
To Sheri, thanks for being there when I need a beta.
Laura, I always appreciate your suggestions.
Pamela, your feedback was phenomenal. I’m so glad our paths crossed.
Chapter One
“How long will they make us wait?” Miss Pratt whined, checking the time on her wand while she hovered above the floor across the room, her wings angrily buzzing like she was a hummingbird on crack.
Serah fiddled with a gemstone on her gaudy emerald bracelet and ignored her annoying chaperone, AKA the five-foot clumsy hummingbird. She wasn’t looking forward to starting a new school, but she couldn’t wait to get rid of Miss Pratt. That pixie had been a thorn in her side since Grandfather ordered her out of his office, refusing to hear her version of the story and threatening to disinherit her if she brought any more shame to their family name.
Serah checked the backings on her earrings to make sure they were secure—a nervous habit—and recalled her grandfather’s dark scowl. She felt like an utter failure for disappointing him, but did that mean she had to attend the worst school in the third realm? It had been one tiny transgression.
She looked at the cobwebs in the corners, the black mold exposed beneath the peeling wallpaper, and the dust-covered trophy case displaying awards from the Department of Magical Corrections for strict disciplinary action. Apparently this shithole was her last hope. None of the other magical schools would take a siren with a penchant for seducing professors. Actually, it had been only one professor, and he’d seduced her, but try as she might, she couldn’t dispel the rumors that had spread faster than a dragon’s inferno.
Slumping in her seat, she picked imaginary grime out of her fingernails and avoided eye contract with the female troll sitting behind the admissions desk. At least she was fairly certain the troll was a woman. The big pink bow covering that bald patch on her head might have been a good indicator. Or maybe the bright red lipstick leaching into her upper lip hairs. Steam poured out of the troll’s wide nostrils as she glared at Serah from under a unibrow that looked like someone had glued a strip of shag carpet to her forehead. The admissions clerk at the Dame Doublewart’s School for Misfit Witches had to be the ugliest troll in all four realms, and that was saying something, considering the last one she’d had the misfortune of encountering had had a thumb-sized brown wart hanging out of her nostril.
The plaque on her desk announced her name was Lady Hoofenmouth. She wore a huge rock on her bloated wedding finger. Serah didn’t know if she was more shocked that Lady Hoofenmouth was a member of the gentry or that there was another Hoofenmouth.
When the ancient black phone on Lady H’s desk rang obnoxiously, sounding like a bleating, sick cow, the troll picked up the receiver, nostrils flaring, and listened to a shrill voice on the other end.
Grunting, she hung up and gave Serah the once-over. “Seraphina Goldenwand, the headmistress will see you now.”
Serah jumped to her feet, fingering the wand in her pocket and clutching her purse. “Thank you.” Turning up her nose, she walked haughtily past the troll, ignoring the annoying buzzing of Miss Pratt’s wings, who preceded her, as she banged into furniture, trying to keep up.
Once they reached a dark, musty hall, Serah covered her mouth, breathing into her palm while picking up the pace enough to zip past the pixie. This place smelled fouler than a rotting crypt.
“Wait up,” Miss Pratt called, coughing and choking behind her. “Oh, my. This place smells like dragon farts.”
Serah strode straight toward a tall slender woman with a long beak nose and hair pulled back in an austere bun, who glared at them from a doorway at the end of the hall.
“Hello.” She smiled at the woman, not surprised when she didn’t smile back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Serah infused a bit of siren charm into her words, hoping her seductive voice would be hard to resist, then arched back when the woman’s lips twisted into a scowl.
“I’m Dame Doublewart.” Her face was a mask of stone. “Siren charms don’t work on me.” She held the office door open and motioned to a chair in front of a wide, gray desk. “Come in.”
Serah’s eyes widened as she walked past Dame Doublewart. In the magical world, sometimes one’s name was an indication of one’s appearance. Dame Doublewart had no visible warts on her face, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have them somewhere. Her imagination raced with possibilities, most of which made he
r stomach churn.
“Thank you so much for seeing us.” Miss Pratt’s rapidly buzzing wings ground to a halt when Dame Doublewart held out a staying hand. She dropped to the floor with a squeak and a curse and jutted tiny hands on her hips, glaring at the formidable headmistress.
Dame Doublewart arched a thin brow and scowled down at the purple-haired pixie. “And you are?”
“Penelope Pixiefeather Pratt.” Miss Pratt pulled back narrow shoulders, flashing a triumphant grin. “I’m Lord Goldenwand’s personal assistant.”
Serah fought an eyeroll. She suspected her grandfather’s name didn’t carry much weight with Dame Doublewart.
“Miss Pratt, I don’t believe your name was called.” Dame Doublewart crossed her arms and impatiently tapped her foot.
Miss Pratt’s jaw dropped. “But Serah’s grandfather—”
“Has no influence here.” Dame Doublewart shooed Miss Pratt away as if she was swatting a bug. “Now, if you’d excuse us.”
“Fine,” Miss Pratt huffed, eyes crossing.
Shoo, Serah mouthed, waving Miss Pratt into the musty hall, her grin widening when Dame Doublewart slammed the door in the pixie’s face. She’d never liked Miss Pratt, and not just because she was a whiny, impatient little mouse. Miss Pratt had a habit of shadowing Serah at the most inopportune times and reporting everything back to Grandfather, including the rumors that Serah had slept with every professor at her former school. Miss Pratt was a short snitch with a dragon-sized grudge wedged up her twat.
Looking her over with an assessing glare, Dame Doublewart motioned for Serah to sit.
She sat in a slick, squeaky chair, cringing when it wobbled beneath her. She wasn’t surprised this school couldn’t afford decent furniture, given the condition of the place. The outside had been just as decrepit, a crumbling, gray building located in the heart of an old cemetery. This was a far cry from her last school, which was located at the edge of the beautiful city of Sawran, overlooking a tropical beach. That school had been beyond luxurious. If only her former headmistress hadn’t believed those stupid rumors.
“Serah Goldenwand?” Dame Doublewart’s lips twisted into a tighter scowl, as if she’d just finished sucking on a rotten lemon or the timer on her fifteen-minute enema had expired.
Refusing to be intimidated, she brushed a strand of her wavy auburn hair behind her ear and turned up her chin. “Yes.”
If it was at all possible Dame Doublewart’s disapproving expression deepened. “The correct response is ‘Yes, ma’am.’”
She fought back a curse. Grinding her teeth, she spit out the words. “Yes, ma’am.”
She had no choice but to kiss Doublewart’s ass. This school was her only hope. One-hundred-and-fifty billion merlins were at stake, thanks to Grandfather’s ridiculous rule. No diploma, no inheritance. She enjoyed designer purses and shoes too much to end up poor.
Dame Doublewart perused a file as thick as a tomb, shaking her head. “Let me get this straight. You seduced every one of your professors at your previous school, ruining no less than five marriages.”
She tensed. “Only one professor, and he wasn’t married as far as I know.”
Her face contorted with distaste, her gaze practically boring holes in Serah’s skull. “One professor is bad enough.”
Unnerved by Dame Doublewart’s penetrating, black eyes, she pretended to admire one of the many old cuckoo clocks in a small collection hanging behind Doublewart’s desk. It was covered in cobwebs. “I realize that now.”
“Your disciplinary report says you slept with all the male professors.” The matron’s voice rose in pitch with each word, making her sound like a squawking hen. “They were found guilty of giving you passing grades in exchange for sexual favors.”
Though she shouldn’t have been surprised the exaggerated tales of her exploits had preceded her, she resented the judgmental tone in Dame Doublewart’s voice. She was a Goldenwand, the sole heiress to the largest fortune in the third realm—probably in all four realms. She didn’t have to tolerate Doublewart’s self-righteous attitude. “Believe the report if you want, but I only slept with one professor.” The rest she bought off, thanks to Grandfather’s generous allowance.
She repressed a sigh when she thought of Professor Prometheus Periwinkle’s calm, deep voice, wavy blond hair, and blessedly large wand. He’d been so kind during their early tutoring sessions. So attentive. That first kiss had been the next natural progression after months of mutual flirting. By the time they ripped off each other’s clothes and he draped her across the top of his desk, she’d been so horny, she couldn’t see straight. After repressing her siren instincts for so long, she’d lost it. And she’d certainly paid for her transgression ten times over.
“Doesn’t matter if you slept with one professor or a dozen.” Dame Doublewart folded her hands and glared at Serah like a hawk zeroing in on a mouse. “It seems no other magical school in our realm will take you.”
Tension stiffened her spine. “Correct.”
“We are your last hope.”
Dame Doublewart’s lips twisted so tight, Serah thought they would snap.
“Yes.”
“Miss Goldenwand,” Dame Doublewart said and sighed, “you are already eighteen, a year older than most other high school twelfth years. Why don’t you just drop out?”
If only. She fought to maintain a neutral expression. “I would if I could.” It’s not like she needed an education. Potion and spell classes were now obsolete, thanks to the Goldenwand 2050. Why did she need to memorize spells when the Goldenwand did all the work for her?
Dame Doublewart eyed her expectantly. “What do you mean?”
She refused to answer. Why give Doublewart ammunition that she could use against her to get her to behave? She studied the woman’s face, wondering exactly where those two warts were hiding.
The matron had an assessing look in her eyes. “Your silence confirms that other rumors are true. You will be disinherited without a diploma.”
She found the nerve to make eye contact with Dame Doublewart for a moment. “Are you going to accept me or not?”
Dame Doublewart lifted a thin, graying brow. “Are you aware of our academy’s rigorous course load?”
She thought of a half dozen different spells she’d like to use on Doublewart. “I’ve heard it.”
“Each student is responsible for his or her own work.” She pointed her beak nose at Serah, eyes narrowing to slits. “You can’t suck your way into passing grades here.”
Heat flamed Serah’s cheeks. “I’ll manage.” She swallowed an angry retort and clutched her wand so hard, her knuckles ached.
“You’re aware of our disciplinary policy?”
Serah shrugged. “I heard it was strict.”
“Strict?” Dame Doublewart let out a grating laugh that sounded like two rabid cats mating. “Oh, Miss Goldenwand. I promise that when you find yourself on your knees at my school, you won’t be begging for more.” Shadows fell across her features and a wicked gleam shone in her eyes. “You’ll be begging for mercy.”
Well, fuck. She swallowed a lump of bile. “Noted.”
“You’re okay with this?” Laughter rang in Doublewart’s words.
Serah bit back a curse. “I don’t have a choice.”
“No, you don’t.” The matron’s eyes lit like fireworks. “Here at Dame Doublewart’s, we like to get a jump on discipline.” She picked up an old, gnarled wand that was as long as a yardstick and slapped it across her palm. “Our students spend their first night in the dungeon to get a taste of our disciplinary procedures. We generally find that after that first night, our students are much more receptive to our rules.”
Dragon balls! This woman was mental. “So you’re throwing me in detention, and I haven’t even done anything yet?”
“That’s right.” Her smile widened, revealing sharp incisors. “If you accept these terms, I will grant you admission. If not....” Dame Doublewart slapped her palm in rhythm wi
th the ticking cuckoo clocks behind her.
Serah released a shaky breath. “I accept.”
“Excellent.” Dame Doublewart set down the wand and stood. Turning, she thumbed through a stack of papers. “Let me just find the contract.”
Sitting as as stiff as a statue, she watched Doublewart locate the papers that would seal her doom. She only had one semester left until graduation—roughly four months with holidays. She didn’t believe for a second that her grades couldn’t be bought. This school was practically falling apart at the seams. If its condition was any indication, the teachers were likely underpaid, too.
If she and her potions professor had been more discreet, she’d still be at her posh school, dining at their custom sushi bar for supper and sucking the cream out of Periwinkle’s éclair for dessert.
Dame Doublewart faced Serah, holding a faded scroll. Tapping it with her wand, she mumbled a reveal spell, and it came to life, the words jumping off the page and forming in the air in front of her like they were reflecting off a computer screen. She was impressed that Dame Doublewart’s old wand could conjure such a modern spell.
“Sign here,” the matron said, pointing at the signature line at the bottom of what must have been thousands of words of fine print.
Serah frowned. No way was she reading that contract. It would take her all day. It couldn’t be too terrible. Grandfather wouldn’t send her to a horrible school.
She pulled the wand out of her pocket.
“Not with that,” Doublewart snapped, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “With your finger.”
Serah pocketed her wand, biting back profanities, then leaned toward the signature line, jerking back when the contract crackled.
“I haven’t got all day.” Dame Doublewart turned her beak nose to the ceiling, rolling her eyes.
Serah reached toward the contract again, wincing when the screen pricked her finger, using her blood as the ink. Signing in blood? Grandfather had a lot to answer for.