Royals of Villain Academy 8: Vicious Arts

by Eva Chase

  “You little bastard,” he snapped. “We waited so long, and now you’re ruining everything.”

  He lunged forward so abruptly that I didn’t think any of us was prepared for it. We’d anticipated a magical assault, not a physical one. As a casting word tumbled from my lips to build a different sort of shield, I registered the dagger my father had whipped from his sleeve, the runes etched on its gleaming blade, and realized that even the four of us might not be strong enough to fend that weapon off with only a second’s notice.

  Did he mean to cut me down completely or just to stab me into submission before patching me back together like he had more than once before? I was recoiling, my arms coming up to deflect him as much as my magical defenses might, when Rory spat out a casting word and thrust her hand forward.

  A fiery gleam flashed off her ring and condensed into a tiny scythe of a blade that whipped through the air. Her aim had been true. The conjured blade sliced straight through my father’s thumb where he gripped the dagger, severing it below the main joint.

  The dagger wobbled and slipped in his hand with the spurt of blood. The blade swung to the side just shy of my chest, and I hurled another casting word to shove Dad backward. Connar was there too, heaving my father away from me with his bodily force on top of my magic. Dad reeled back and tripped over the misshapen bales of hay.

  He sprang back to his feet in an instant, smacking his bleeding hand against his chest as he passed the dagger to his weaker side. Blood soaked into his shirt. He looked down at the wound and then at me with that unsettling light blazing in his eyes.

  “You cut off my fucking thumb.”

  Technically Rory had done that, but I had brought her along, and I wasn’t going to correct him if he hadn’t followed every spell cast at him in the heat of the moment.

  “Come at me like that again and I’ll cut off worse,” I retorted. Adrenaline thrummed through my body, heady but piercing enough to make my muscles quiver. My stomach flipped with a queasy lurch. I’d had enough.

  A few casting words spilled from Dad’s lips. My colleagues’ voices rose at the same time to deflect the spells. He started at us again, and I met him with a slap of magic that locked his legs in place. As he snarled the words to free himself, the three beside me added their own strength to the spell. It’d hold him for at least a few minutes.

  “Let’s go,” I said, turning on my heel. I stalked out without another glance at my father, ignoring the insults he hurled after me. Passing his car, I tossed out a spell to sever the rubber on the tires so they’d be deflated by the time he did make his way out of the barn, if he got it into his head to chase after us.

  Not that he wouldn’t know where I was whenever he decided to finish the fight he’d started here. It wasn’t a question of if; it was only how soon. And next time, we might be up against not just him but all the other barons and their supporters as well.

  Chapter Ten

  Rory

  Malcolm got into the car steadily enough, but his knuckles whitened as soon as he’d gripped the steering wheel. He didn’t even bother snapping on his seatbelt before starting the engine. I watched him as he jerked the car around toward the road, feeling as much as seeing the tension strung all through his body. It laced the air with an electric prickling.

  My thumb moved to my heirloom ring. I’d spoken a casting word to activate its powers without thinking, only knowing that the Nightwood scion’s life could be at stake and that I couldn’t stand to see another of my lovers brought low by his own parents. All that blood afterward… Baron Nightwood was definitely going to be gunning for me after this. And maybe for Malcolm even more, since I’d been there for him, acting in his defense.

  I couldn’t say I regretted the spell, though. Hell, the baron could probably find some fearmancer doctor who could magic his thumb back on. Whatever he’d been going to do to his son, I doubted it’d have been as easily cured.

  For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The roar of the car’s engine, too loud to be totally comfortable, filled the space. Malcolm’s hands shifted on the wheel, his shoulders flexing. His throat bobbed with an audible swallow. The forest now beside us whipped by even faster as he pressed harder on the gas.

  I tapped a quick message to Connar on my phone. We’re okay. We’ll see you back on campus. Then I turned to Malcolm. “Pull over.”

  His head jerked toward me and then back to face the road. “What? Why?”

  “Because you’re obviously upset, and I think it’d be better if we talked about it when you’re not hurtling more than a ton of steel down a highway.”

  “Who says we have to talk about it?”

  “I do,” I said firmly. “Pull over. Please?”

  His mouth twitched. For a second, I thought he was going to keep arguing. Then he eased off the gas and drove the car onto the gravel shoulder with a rattle against the undercarriage. When the engine cut out, the silence was momentarily deafening.

  Malcolm dropped his hands to his lap. “There isn’t really much to say. He’s an asshole. And possibly a little insane about this whole taking over the world thing. I’m glad I got to see just how far around the bend he’s gone, and I’m glad we got out of there when we did.” He glanced over at me. “Thank you for that trick with the ring, even if I hate to think how he’s going to try to pay you back for it.”

  “He deserved worse,” I couldn’t help muttering, but I wanted to focus on Malcolm, not his dad. I reached over to grasp one of his hands. “You didn’t expect him to come at you like that. Even if you didn’t trust him and you were prepared for some kind of fight, it makes sense to be shaken up.”

  He let out a ragged breath. His fingers squeezed tight around mine. “I don’t care what happens to him. I wish I’d stopped caring a lot sooner. I just…” He hesitated, his jaw clenching and his gaze scudding away from me. “I’m a Nightwood too. I’ve got his blood running through my veins; I’m the man he and my mother raised me to be. I can see everything that’s wrong with them now, but what if—”

  I waited after he cut himself off, and then gently prodded, “What if?”

  His voice dropped. “I’ve been wrong too, before. I’ve hurt people—I hurt you—because I got too caught up in my own ideas of what was right and what needed to happen. What if I start sliding that way once I’m baron and I have all that power? I could end up like him twenty, thirty years down the road.”

  Every particle of my body resisted that suggestion. “No, you couldn’t,” I said, tugging his hand until he looked at me again. “Just the fact that you’re thinking about it and wanting to be on guard means you can’t go down the exact same path. Do you really think you’d ever be okay with treating your kids the way he treated you and your sister?”

  Malcolm’s flinch said enough. “Hell, no. If I start with the torture tests, you’re welcome to slit my throat with that ring.”

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” I scooted closer so I could lean my head against his shoulder. “Even if you don’t totally trust your own judgment, you trust mine, right? I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I saw any chance you’d turn out like your father. Everyone makes mistakes. It’s how you make up for them that shows who you are as a person.”

  “Rory…” He cupped my cheek and tipped my face to bring his mouth to mine. His kiss was as determined as ever and yet also urgent in a way I hadn’t felt before, as if he still thought he had to make the most of it before I might change my mind and pull away.

  An ache shot through my heart. I eased back from the kiss, staying close, a rush of my own determination coming over me.

  “Push back your seat.”

  Something in my tone must have convinced him without any further discussion. He gripped the control and shoved the seat as far as it would go. As soon as it had clicked into place, I clambered over to straddle his lap, my head bowing over him. He reached to steady me automatically with one hand resting on my waist and the other coming up to tease into my hair,
guiding it back from my face. His dark brown eyes searched mine, already lit with hunger.

  “I trust you,” I said. “I’m yours. Do whatever you want with me.”

  His fingers tensed against my side. With a rough sound, he pulled me to him. Our mouths collided, my core settling even more firmly against his groin, and my breath stuttered with the kiss. He was devouring me, as if he could claim me in every possible way from now through the end of time with the press of his lips and the sweep of his tongue.

  One hand stayed tangled in my hair, the shift of his fingertips sending sparks through my scalp. The other tugged off my jacket and tossed it onto the other seat. In a swift movement, he tipped the seat back so he was nearly lying down, bringing me with him. As he kissed me even harder, he rocked my hips against him, each motion rubbing my sex against the growing bulge of his erection with a flare of desire that shot straight through my belly.

  The rumble of an approaching car made him draw back with a muttered curse. He tossed out a quick casting word, presumably to hide us from view. Then he took advantage of our temporary separation to tug my blouse up over my head. The cool air tingled over my mostly bare torso. I leaned closer to him, grasping the bottom of his sweater. He helped me strip him of that before pulling me flush against him again, the heat of his solid chest radiating into my skin.

  “You’re everything I could possibly want, Rory,” he said hoarsely. “And I don’t just mean like this. I want you in my bed, and I want us fighting our battles side-by-side. I want you telling off any jackasses around, even if the jackass happens to be me. I want you standing at that table of the pentacle with me, making sure we don’t forget anyone who matters. I want all of it, always.”

  My throat closed up with emotion. I kissed him with all the tenderness I had in me.

  “I want that too,” I murmured against his lips. “Always.”

  “I’m so fucking glad I can do this without those worries about your goddamned parentage in my head.”

  He captured my mouth again with all his usual passion, his hand gliding up my back to undo my bra. As soon as it had slipped off me, he was stroking my breasts. The swivel of his thumb over my nipple made me whimper. He urged me a little higher on him so he could bring the other nipple to his mouth, and a flick of his tongue sent pleasure racing through me.

  Malcolm’s other hand delved between my legs to massage my clit through my pants. The heady throb of need spread through me with every pulse of pressure. I might have been on top, but there was no doubt that he was in charge, working me over with devoted intentness.

  For a while I rode on the waves of bliss as he sent me soaring higher and higher. The throb turned into a sharper ache, and his touch became as torturous as it was pleasurable. With a growl of impatience, I ground against his groin and reached for the zipper of his slacks.

  Malcolm chuckled. “All in good time,” he said, but his words were taut with his own hunger. He kissed me again, hard, and tugged my pants down first, pausing to tease his fingers over my panties. I couldn’t suppress a moan.

  As I kicked my pants the rest of the way off, he took the opportunity to flip us over, pinning me beneath him. The heat of his body flooded me as I melted into the leather seat. He brought his lips to my neck, my shoulder, and then my collarbone while he worked me over even more intimately through the thin fabric. Finally, at the choked sound of longing that slipped from my throat, he pulled my panties off too and freed himself from his slacks.

  I touched my opening to cast the protective spell, and the sight seemed to fan the flames of his desire even hotter. He resumed his teasing in the most potent way, stroking the head of his cock from my clit down over my opening and back again, leaving me a little more wanting and wet each time. He brought his mouth down to my breasts again and tested his teeth against the peaks with a light nip—and then a sharper one.

  A gasp escaped me with an arch of my hips, my whole body quivering with anticipation. “Malcolm,” I said like a plea.

  He nuzzled the side of my neck with another nibble of my skin. “What do you want?” he asked slyly.

  “You. Inside me. Now. Please.”

  His eyes blazed at the words. He didn’t make me wait any longer. With a single powerful stroke, he thrust all the way into me. The force of the penetration burned through me with bliss and knocked the air from my lungs.

  He lifted me up to lock our hips perfectly together as he plunged into me again and again. The rest of our coupling became a haze of crashing mouths and sweat-slick skin. I gripped his shoulder, his side, twisted my fingers into the short curls of his golden hair. With every thrust, I bucked into him in turn, chasing the release I could feel swelling from within.

  “You’re mine,” Malcolm mumbled against my cheek, his pace speeding up. “And I’m yours. Always yours. They can’t ever change that.”

  I hummed my agreement, too lost in the surge of pleasure to form words. He bit down on my shoulder, and with that the wave tumbled over me, carrying me high and far in a wash of ecstasy.

  Malcolm groaned as I clenched around him. He pulled me even closer, thrusting harder. I felt the catch in his chest when he hit his own peak, like an echo between our bodies.

  He gathered me beneath him on the curve of the car seat and brushed a kiss to my dampened forehead. The gentleness of the gesture made my heart ache all over again, but in a much more joyful way. I touched his face and drew him closer to me.

  “I guess we should get back to campus before the guys start to worry,” he said after a moment with a regretful tone.

  I snuggled into his embrace. The cocoon of lust and heat that we’d built around ourselves had settled into a perfect warmth, one I had no desire to break just yet.

  “I told them not to worry,” I said. “I think we can take a little more time.”

  Because Lord only knew when we could be sure of having another pocket of peace like this.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rory

  When I came back to my bedroom after my morning shower, raised voices were carrying through my closed window. I leaned close to the glass, peering to make out the source.

  At the edge of my view, a bunch of students were standing around just beyond the green. After a moment, I could tell it was five of them surrounding the other two—two guys I knew from the Scions’ Guard.

  “Fucking traitors!” one of the five was shouting. “When the barons are done putting the Naries in their place, what do you think they’re going to do with you?”

  “Why wait for that?” another said. “We can get started on their punishment right now.”

  He crackled his knuckles and spoke a quieter word that must have been in casting. One of their two targets jerked up his hand with a mumbled response that appeared to deflect most of the effect, but not enough to prevent a wince.

  My hands balled into fists. Some of our classmates didn’t think anyone should speak out against the barons? Let them find out what happened to anyone who harassed those who stood with the scions.

  I pulled on my jacket and shoes in a rush. As I hurried downstairs, my hand rested on my purse, but it didn’t look like a big enough deal to warrant calling in the other scions just yet. My defense would have more impact if it was obvious to the assholes out there that just one scion could subdue five of them no problem.

  When I reached the green, I was met with a yelp and a hiss of pain. No one was bothering with talking anymore. I hustled around Ashgrave Hall.

  Several spectators had gathered around the conflict, a few of them calling out encouragement—to which side, I couldn’t tell. A girl who was also on the Scions’ Guard had joined the two guys. Both they and the five who’d ganged up on them were snapping out casting words as quickly as they could.

  Magical energy crackled between them, lighting sparks here and flames there. Shields thrown up shuddered and cracked before being rebuilt.

  Up close, I recognized a few of the harassers from the gala the barons had held a few week
s ago to reward their supporters and butter up new ones. The Scions’ Guard hadn’t done anything overtly against the barons on campus, but word about the calls and complaints we’d prompted must have spread to the barons’ allies, and those families were encouraging the students in our midst to take action.

  “Hey!” I said sharply as I reached the edge of the growing crowd. The spectators startled and parted in my wake. The bullies tossed out a couple more spells before they appeared to realize who was approaching. With lips pressed tight and eyes narrowed, they fell back a step from their targets, who lowered their hands as well.

  “If you have a problem with the Scions’ Guard, then you take it up with the scions,” I said, putting my hands on my hips with as intense a Bloodstone glower as I could muster. “We’re the ones calling the shots. And if you feel so strongly about whatever the hell your problem is that you’re going to attack your fellow fearmancers, I sure hope you’ve got the guts to say it to me too.”

  A couple of the attackers faltered, one with a swipe across her mouth as she averted her eyes, another outright taking off. The other three stared back at me defiantly.

  “I don’t see any point in talking to traitors, no matter what their family is,” one of them sneered.

  “And what exactly makes any of us a traitor?” I asked, stepping closer. “I don’t remember hearing that telling the barons what we think of their plans is against the law. How are they supposed to serve all fearmancers if no one’s allowed to say what they want unless it’s what the barons are already planning?”

  The guy opened his mouth and closed it again, clearly not having any argument to that.

  “You’ve done more than just tell them things,” said the girl next to him.

  “Like what?” I asked. “I’ve been here the whole time. I think I’d know if anyone acting in my name did something actually criminal.”