by L. A. Sable
I was forcing myself not to look at any of the acolytes. I was already dreading the “training” sessions that Darius had planned. My only reprieve would be if one of them killed me so I could avoid the prolonged torture that I would get at Valentine’s hand.
My gaze traveled over the other witches, trying to be discrete. Aside from the Three Fates, I didn’t recognize any of the others which meant they were from lesser families. Despite my parents’ shame at my lack of magical ability, that didn’t mean they would ever sink to allowing their daughter to associate with the lower reaches of society. They might have been disgusted with me, but appearances were everything.
There weren’t many males in House Essence, because witches have a strong tendency toward birthing girls and the magic rarely passed down the paternal line.
“Open your books to chapter seven,” Darius commanded. “Today we will be discussing the magical cataclysm that led to the destruction of Pompeii.”
A stack of books was passed down the row from one student to the next. I was in the last desk so Primrose leaned over and handed me the final book of the stack. And without a second thought, I opened it to the required page.
The crack of electricity in the air was my only warning and then I was flying through the air to crash against the wall behind me. A burning sensation ran along my nerve-endings for a painful moment as the spell dissipates, but it was enough to leave me gasping. The book was still in my hands and tiny sparks of red rose off its surface. With a small groan, I tossed it away.
When I painfully tilted my head to look up, Darius stood over me.
“Get up,” he said, sounding bored.
“What happened?” I asked, pushing myself to my feet.
“It appears this book was cursed. I’ve done you the favor of removing the offending spell.”
“People shouldn’t just go around cursing things,” I snapped with a glare. A murmur went up around the students, likely because people didn’t usually speak to the headmaster this way. “Don’t you think you should do something about that?”
His eyebrow raised in a mocking gesture. “Not really, no. I’d like to think our students can handle something as basic as a counter-curse.”
The titters started as soon as I rose to my feet but were quickly silenced by a quelling glare from Darius. I got the impression that he didn’t so much care if they made fun of me, he just wanted to maintain order in the classroom. Judging from the satisfied look on Primrose’s face as I took my seat, watching that book explode in my face would be the best thing that happened to her all morning.
There wasn’t much of a point in trying to guess who had cursed me, enough people here wanted to see me suffer that I could pretty much take my pick. The Fates hated me for denying them the chance to complete their circle, Cynth would bankrupt his family for the chance to watch me die and the rest of the student body thought of me as fresh meat.
I could handle a little hazing, but hopefully it wouldn’t rise past the level of pranks. It was another reminder that I needed to bone up on the basics, I hadn’t needed to use counter hexes or protection spells much since I left the not-so-loving bosom of my family behind, not that I’d ever been much good at them.
“It will be hard to represent Essence House if I get blown across the room every time I open a book,” I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Primrose responded with a sniff.
That was the great thing about witches, they never did anything out in the open. “Then maybe you could teach me a good protection spell, so the next curse won’t kill me.”
“Learn it yourself.”
“I thought you wanted to be House Acolyte, won’t that mean you’re like responsible for the people in your house? Helping me is kind of your job.”
“Acolytes lead by example, exemplifying all the best traits of the house they represent.” Her gaze passed over me and it was clear from her face she found me sorely lacking. “I’m not your personal tutor.”
As much as asking someone like Primrose for help made my teeth clench, the sooner I mastered a few defensive spells, the less likely someone was to kill me before Valentine even arrived. Darius wanted me alive to act as bait, but he wouldn’t do anything to stop me from getting seriously injured. “With enough training, maybe I could serve as the fourth for your circle.”
Primrose actually seemed to consider that for a moment. “I’ll think about it. Now stop talking to me.”
Not exactly a win, but I’d have to take what I could get.
Darius had returned to the front of the room to begin the lecture again.
I forced myself to stare straight ahead as he discussed the history of magic, but I sensed the gazes of the other students on me as if they were a physical weight. Hopefully, this class would be one of the few times that I had to spend this much extended time trapped in a room with everyone.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I studied them with the same attention. But instead of searching for weaknesses, like they certainly did with me, I was more interested in assessing for possible escape routes.
The vampires sat in the farthest corner of the room, the insignia of House Night etched into the wall behind them. Skin as smooth as porcelain made their faces resemble masks, only their eyes were alight with pale fire. They sat like coiled predators, utterly still in the moments before attacking.
Shifters sat together on the other side, the half-man and half-griffin figure of House Moon marking their place. Although they sat in their seats, their bodies seemed to be full of restless energy just waiting to be released. Shifters weren’t allowed to take on their animal forms within the walls so they most closely resembled humans. That was, until they didn’t.
House Aether was the smallest and the most diverse. I could only assume that those who didn’t fit neatly into another place found themselves assigned there. Elementals, spirit walkers and even a giant, judging from the size of one girl sitting in the first row.
But I wasn’t being careful enough in my side-eyed assessment and when my gaze passed over Bastian, our eyes met. The smile that crossed his face was purely carnal, and I forced myself to look away before he licked his lips.
It was impossible to fight the small clench in the pit of my belly and the longing that had been ever present since I first escaped this world. I reminded myself that I hadn’t been touched in so long that it made perfect sense my body would respond with anything wearing the proper parts.
I sensed him watching me as I made a point of staring straight ahead. His gaze was like a warm wind blowing along my skin and I wondered if he was using some form of magic to affect my senses. A pool of heat grew between my legs and I clenched my thighs closed in an effort to fight off the wave of desire coursing over me.
This couldn’t be real. He was using magic to do something with me.
My mind searched to remember a counter spell that would protect my senses from being interfered with, but not a single one came to mind. I twitched against the wood of the seat, even that slight contact enough to ratchet the desire even higher.
I clenched my fingers on the desk, trying and failing to distract myself from the unwanted sensations. Phantom fingers whispered along my skin, moving over my belly and down to tickle along the skin of my thighs. I could feel the sucking pressure on my breast as if an eager mouth was at my breast.
An unwilling gasp escaped my lips, only loud enough to catch the attention of the witches seated near me. Primrose cast me a repressive glance, but didn’t seem to notice that anything was awry. Only powerful magic could be targeted this precisely without any leakage in the air that others could feel. My eyes closed as the phantom hands moved down and pressure on my thighs practically forced them to part. Now the invisible mouth was between my legs, a searching tongue dipping inside of me in a way that was indistinguishable from reality.
The only saving grace was that I managed to orgasm without making any more noise.
“What the hell are you doing?” I gasped the question even as I glared up at him. “I should report you.”
He raised a silver eyebrow, laughter in his gaze. “For what?”
“Rape is a crime, you know.”
“Not here.” He tilted his head to the side, heated gaze lingering on my chest as if he could see right through my dress. “At the Proving Grounds, you can do anything that you can get away with. And I never even touched you.”
“Just get away from me,” I snapped.
“We have a training session scheduled, remember. That is why you’re here, apparently.” The smirk on his face only grew larger as he stared at me, expression full of heat. “I get to be your first.”
Even though I haven’t known him long, something told me that Bastian had the uncanny ability to turn anything into a sexual reference. “No fucking way.”
“It’s your funeral,” he responded with a careless shrug, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. “If you can’t handle me, then you don’t stand a chance against Valentine.”
I glared up at him, hating that despite the manipulation, he spoke the truth. “Was using magic to violate me supposed to be the first lesson?”
“If you can’t protect your mind, then how will you protect your body?”
There wasn’t a good response that wouldn’t make me look like an idiot. “I need a minute.”
“Well, when you’re done stewing in your own juices, come find me.” The laughter in his voice wasn’t precisely mean-spirited, but it was obvious he got a kick out of my embarrassment. “I’ll be in the conservatory.”
I watched him go with a mix of dread and anticipation. Part of me felt violated, and the other was eager to figure out how to fight against whatever it was he had done.
And the smallest part of me was very focused on the fact that he could make me come harder than I ever have in my life without even using his hands.
I was absolutely screwed, in more ways than one.
Chapter Ten
Jinx
Bastian was waiting for me in the conservatory. It took me almost half an hour to meet him there because I had to go up to my room and change into clean panties. With each passing moment, I had become less upset with what he had done and much more interested in how he had done it. I wouldn’t have thought that sort of magic was possible without an incantation and a piece of something that belonged to me. Bastian had managed it in the middle of a full classroom without either of those things or so much as speaking a word.
Witches were carnal creatures and not known for sexual hang-ups. There were too many types of magic that relied on nudity or bodily fluids for that to be an issue, but that didn’t mean that I liked being out of control of my body’s responses.
I just had to know how he did it. At least, that was what I told myself as I threw open the doors of the conservatory.
He was alone, and I thanked the dark gods for that. In my current state, I knew I couldn’t have faced him along with any of the others.
And confirmation of that was the first thing out of my mouth as he turned to face me. “It’s just going to be the two of us, right?”
“For now.” Bastian tilted his head to the side as he regarded me with eyes the color of a frozen lake at night. He looked at me like a bird of prey spotting an animal that was a bit too small for a full meal, trying to decide if it was worth the effort to strike. “Are you asking because you’re into group action?”
The thought had crossed my mind more times than it should have in the last day. It had been so long since I was around other supernaturals that the yearning had become ever present. “If you could keep the sexual innuendo to a minimum, I’d appreciate it.”
“That’s not a no.” His voice was sing-song, a counterpoint to the severe exterior of his unsmiling face. “But I’ll leave it alone for now.”
The door shut behind me with a loud bang that jolted through me. I hated that being alone with him made me nervous, I’d face down worse things than a horny Faerie. “Are all the Fae as sex-crazed as you are or do they put something in the water here?”
Bastian took a step closer, and I had to lock my knees to keep from backing up. His gaze roves over me in an assessing way. “I’m told my line descends from the Unseelie Court, known for their particular interest in blood, torture and sex, not that I’ve ever had the chance to visit. But those are the skills I bring to the table when it comes to preparing you for a confrontation with Valentine.”
I didn’t want to remember the details of my time with Valentine, but I was certain the quality of the sex had never been a problem. “He never had any complaints, thanks.”
“But that’s exactly it,” he drawled, close enough that the words whispered along my skin as he blew out a heavy breath. “Valentine’s interest in you was carnal from the very beginning, part of the hold that he had over you. And still has, I assume.”
He was too close to me, making it difficult to think. My voice came breathier than I wanted it to. “Get to the point.”
“My job is to prepare you to combat Valentine’s advances and maintain your head.” A brief smile touched his lips, revealing a hint of teeth that were just slightly too sharp. His finger rose to trace a line across my throat. “Both literally and figuratively. Or do you expect me to believe that Valentine was drawn to you for the sterling conversation?”
I needed him to stop touching me. “Obviously not.”
“When we’re done, Valentine will no longer be able to control you with lust and that might allow you to get the drop on him.” His expression was pensive as he stared down at me and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Bastian held out a piece of parchment paper. “Here.”
I cautiously took it. “What is this?”
“A protection spell, relatively simple but strong. I couldn’t help but notice some deficiencies in your knowledge of basic incantations.”
The dig hurt more than it should have. Most witches learned the basic spells while sitting at their mother’s knee as children. By the time they arrived at a place like the Proving Grounds they were prepared to study things that were far more advanced. But my own parents had made it clear that there was no point in preparing the family embarrassment for anything. I was powerless, and therefore pointless. There was no purpose to teaching me spells that I would never use.
But none of that mattered right now.
“I assume there’s something you want me to do with it.”
His lips quirked. “Use it. If you can.”
And in the next moment, the overwhelming desire was back and stronger than ever. This time it felt as if multiple hands were on my body, stroking and thrusting in places still covered by my uniform. It took a herculean effort to stay on my feet as Bastian stared down at me with a mild look on his face, as if nothing particularly interesting was happening at all.
My hand shook as I lifted the paper high enough to make out the words through vision that had blurred. Until that moment, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to be tortured with pleasure but that was precisely what Bastian had managed to accomplish. The sensitive nerves felt overstimulated, as if I were moments from collapsing into a puddle of need at his feet.
I tried to say the words of a spell but my voice kept hitching and catching. Even when I managed to get the entire thing out, it was immediately obvious that the spell had accomplished practically nothing,
“Pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin.” Bastian’s voice was musing, as if he was speaking as much for his own benefit as mine. “It’s fascinating how quickly one can become the other.”
As soon as the last word passed his lips, everything changed. The sparking pleasure that I thought I detested turned to excruciating pain as if I were being flayed alive.
&
nbsp; My screams echoed off the high ceiling of the observatory, eliciting little reaction from the faerie bastard standing over me.
“Perhaps pain is a better motivator for you than pleasure,” he murmured, voice dispassionate. “Use the spell or suffer the consequences.”
The agony was enough to rob me of the ability to breathe, much less speak, but I would do anything to make it all end. Each movement of my arm to bring the parchment close enough to read made it feel like the muscles were being shredded, fiber by fiber. It took everything I had to say the spell words again, waiting for the rise of magic to alert me that the protection spell was successful.
And still, nothing.
“Does your life have to be on the line for you to defend yourself? Pain of death is another excellent motivator.”
A knife appeared in his hand as if he’d summoned it. Or perhaps I’d been so overwhelmed that I hadn’t noticed it before.
He lunged at me in a way that seemed overwhelmingly real. I threw myself backward hard enough to hit the floor hard, and the blade sliced through the air exactly where I’d been standing.
“Stop it,” I gasped through the pain. “Enough.”
“Is that what you plan to say to Valentine when he has you begging for your life? Enough?” Bastian advanced on me slowly, all levity gone his countenance. “Because words won’t stop him from killing you, so show me something that will.”
The paper with the protection spell on it was still crumpled in my hand and even though I’d read it several times, it was impossible to remember the words. I’ve never been able to cast anything stronger than the simple good luck charms that were taught to children.
Forcing the words out hurt even more than his magical attack did. “I can’t.”
His expression was severe. “Try or bleed.”
The blade pressed into my skin, with just enough force that I felt the sharp edge without it breaking the skin. And I realized he had every intention of hurting me if I didn’t protect myself.