Spells and Necromancy: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Unfortunate Magic Book 1)

by Candace Wondrak

  Tamlen didn’t push him away, although he did stop jerking him off, much to Valerius’s dismay. He grabbed his chin, holding him there, making him squirm in his grip. When Valerius finally broke for air, he dropped to his knees and quickly lubed up Tamlen’s dick with his saliva—which was hard once again—before bending over the edge of the bed and lifting his ass. Valerius wanted to be fucked.

  “Start slow,” Valerius instructed, “push in slowly. Once I widen a bit, you can thrust faster.” He felt Tamlen’s hand flat on his lower back, moving to widen his ass cheeks. The man didn’t argue, and the moment he felt his dick press against him, he let out a sigh. It’d been too long since he’d taken in a dick that wasn’t Midas’s.

  Gripping Valerius’s sides, Tamlen pushed in slowly. “Holy fuck,” he murmured. “It’s so tight.” Valerius grinned into the sheets; that was the point. Also for a mind-blowing orgasm. When his partners were as deep as they could go, it was the center of his pleasure, pushing and pushing until he came.

  And Valerius always came when Midas was inside him.

  “Fuck me,” Valerius murmured, groaning as Tamlen pushed himself further in, his thoughts on the traitorous, long-dead king. His fingers gripped the sheets. He felt full. Tamlen was inside as far as he could go, pushing against him once before moving his hips back. Instead of being with the man he’d thought he loved, he was with the man he’d killed, the man whom he currently had growing feelings for. Instead of being in the royal bedchambers of the king, he was bent over a dingy bed, dirty with the smell of their sweat and sex.

  And then…then—Tamlen fucked him. Fingers digging into his sides, the bed creaking with their weight against it. Valerius wanted to let loose, to let the pleasure that built up inside him take over, but he fought against it. It was too soon. He wanted to enjoy this. He didn’t want Tamlen to stop.

  Gods, it felt good. It felt right. It felt like his giant cock was made for Valerius, and as the pleasure took him over, the last thing on his mind was Midas.

  Lena drank half of the small vial almost immediately after Kyler came to make sure she was in her room. She hid the rest of it beneath her pillow and laid on her bed, closing her eyes and focusing all her thoughts on the room she’d left Vale and Tamlen in. She had to pay special attention to the details of the room, the small crack on the nightstand drawer, otherwise she might pop into someone else’s room, since she figured they all looked the same.

  A projection potion. She still couldn’t believe Ingrid was adept at making them.

  She knew little about projection potions. Potion texts were not given to initiates; it was the one subject Lena was fuzzy on. She could only assume that once her visit with them was done, she’d close her eyes and image herself back here, in her room. Ingrid hadn’t told her that much.

  Oh, well. Lena was smart enough to figure it out when the time came. She hoped.

  The world around her fell away. Though her eyes were closed, she could feel her mind moving through a vast, endless black. It ended only when she felt something solid beneath her feet; her bed no longer under her back. Before she opened her eyes, she heard rough moaning. Was that—? Lena came to in the room where Vale and Tamlen were, fully materialized in the corner near the door.

  Tamlen was naked, his muscles rippling with sweat, flushed as his fingers gripped the bare sides of Vale’s hips, moaning as he pushed into him. Bent over the bed, Vale had his eyes closed, an expression of pure bliss on his face. His own dick was erect, swinging slightly with each of Tamlen’s thrusts.

  Well, when she told them to get to know each other better, Lena would be lying if she said she didn’t mean it like this. She meant it exactly like this, only she didn’t think they’d move that fast. It was…ridiculously sexy to watch.

  She took a step to the side to get a better view, which allowed Tamlen to notice her sudden presence. He paused in his thrusting, though he did not withdraw himself from Vale entirely, nor did he remove his hands from his hips.

  “Why did you…” Vale’s voice trailed off when he turned his head to see her.

  Tamlen spoke, his voice ragged, “How did you get here?”

  “Projection potion,” she said. Grinning, Lena walked up to Tamlen, standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss that was made so much dirtier because he was still inside Vale. She bent towards the bottom man, giving him one as well. Standing, she waved a hand. “Never mind me. Keep going.” Both men smiled at her words. As if she’d tell them to stop. She wasn’t a jealous, selfish girl. The attention didn’t need to be on her all the time.

  “You heard Lena. Keep going.” Vale was the one who spoke, while Tamlen was still frozen with a stupid expression, as if he were guilty or ashamed. Since he didn’t move right away, Vale arched his back, pushing himself at Tamlen, digging his dick deeper into his ass.

  A moan left Tamlen; that was all the man needed. He began thrusting again, his rhythm a lot slower than it was when he was inside Lena. As she watched them, Lena felt herself growing hot; the area between her legs burned with the need to join them—but she wouldn’t. Not yet. It was Vale and Tamlen’s time right now, and it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

  A minute of steady, continuous thrusting on Tamlen’s part led to a shared orgasm. Tamlen’s body convulsed, falling onto the back below him as his thrusting slowed, matching—she imagined—the squirts of his cum inside Vale. Vale, for his part, spewed all over the bed, moaning as he came. For a moment, neither Vale nor Tamlen moved.

  “Tired?” Lena teased. She still wore her College robes, but soon enough she’d take them off. “I hope not.”

  Tamlen withdrew from Vale, nearly stumbling back as he stared at the man he was, moments ago, inside of. “I can’t believe…I can’t believe I just fucking did that.”

  Squeezing her thighs together, trying not to jump either of them, Lena said, “Neither can I. It was hot, though. I’m glad you two are getting along.” She giggled when Tamlen gave her a scowl.

  Vale turned, sitting on the bed, his cock losing its hardness. She knew she could get it hard again, but she’d give it some time. Let it recover from that apparently world-shattering experience they shared. “You need to wash yourself off,” he told Tamlen.

  “Right.” Lena nodded. “If you want to be with me tonight, that is.”

  Tamlen looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He simply bent to pick up his clothes, hurriedly throwing them on before walking out the door to go to the bathhouse.

  Moving to the bed, Lena sat near Vale, avoiding the spot that was stained with his cum. He stared at her strangely, eyebrows together. “It truly doesn’t bother you, seeing us like that?” he asked quietly. He took her hand, touching her softly, as if he thought she might break or pull away.

  “Not at all,” Lena answered honestly. “We’re together, aren’t we? And I said it was all right.”

  “I know. But saying it and witnessing it are two different things.”

  She leaned toward him, kissing him gently, sweetly. “It’s fine, Vale. I’m not bothered, not upset, not mad. I only wish I would’ve gotten here sooner.” She giggled.

  Vale’s expression softened, the relief evident. Did he worry that she’d think less of him? No, even though Lena hadn’t known him long, she thought nothing but good things of him and of Tamlen, the leader of the Grey Revolt. Even if the latter had gotten on her nerves with his constant flirting back in the King’s Gardens.

  Was it wrong for her to feel so close to them so soon? She didn’t want to waver in her feelings, and what was done was already done. She couldn’t change the fact that she rose them from the dead, nor could she change what they did yesterday, their commitment to each other. It was the last thing she wanted.

  “What is a projection potion?” Vale asked, squeezing her hand. “How are you here? How can I…touch you?”

  Lena could tell him that she hadn’t a freaking clue, that it wasn’t even her potion to begin with, but she didn’t want to seem stupid. Va
le didn’t seem to be super friendly toward mages, which was ironic given his runes, so even if she did know the details, it was probably best to keep them to herself.

  “A mage must keep some secrets to herself,” Lena said, drawing inspiration from the words Ingrid had told her earlier. She earned a smile from Vale, and he tugged her toward him, his mouth crashing down on hers.

  “Whatever the means behind it,” he whispered, lips brushing against hers, “I’m glad you’re here.” His breath sent tiny jolts dancing across her skin, his touch absolutely electric.

  They kissed for a while, holding onto each other like long-lost lovers and not a pair of people who’d only met the day before. Lena desperately wanted to do more, but there were other things she had to talk to them about.

  Pulling away from his embrace, Lena said, “That tome, the one I read from that rose you…I think the High Enchanter was looking for it today.” She hated the suspicion of the one man in her life she could depend on after Bastian’s death, but she couldn’t help it. It nagged on her, an annoying little insect buzzing around her head, her ears.

  “What?” Vale’s voice grew loud. “That is the man in charge of your College, isn’t it?”

  Well, technically the King was in charge of the College, but in a way he was right. “Yes,” Lena spoke quietly, eyes flicking to the door as Tamlen burst through the door.

  “What’s with the shouting?” Tamlen asked.

  Vale stood, angry. “The mage at the head of the College is the one who had the Noresh tome before Lena.”

  “So what?”

  They didn’t know that for certain, but it was the only possibility that Lena could think of. She fiddled with her hands. “It means that he could be corrupted by dark magic.” She recalled his offer to promote her to apprentice without actually taking the exam. It was something she never thought Gregain would do. “If the King finds out, he could…” Her voice caught. She couldn’t even say it.

  Why didn’t she realize it earlier? Why did the realization dawn on her now, when she should be spending quiet, intimate time with Tamlen and Vale?

  Hands turning clammy, Lena couldn’t speak. Her heart beat rapidly, too fast in her chest. Sweat beads gathered on her forehead as she pictured the scene: College guards, with their special armor—enchanted to reflect and deflect all kinds of spells by the same enchanters who they would wield the armor against—lowering the College’s gates and slaughtering all those inside.

  The King could nullify the College, annihilate everyone inside it.

  Tamlen didn’t need to know specifics; he must’ve had some experience with a similar matter in his past, for he whispered, “The only way to wipe out corruption is to wipe out the source. All the mages, even if they weren’t a part of it, would be suspected.” He moved, kneeling before Lena, his hands on her knees. His warmth soothed her, helped her to slow her breathing. “The King would have you all killed simply because your High Enchanter turned to forbidden magics?”

  She nodded. “Maybe. But Gregain isn’t the only one who’s used forbidden magics. I have, too. It’s why you’re both here, remember? If Gregain goes down, I go down with him.”

  “But,” Vale cut in, “this Gregain does not know that you raised us, does he?”

  “No. I couldn’t tell him, obviously.”

  Vale said, “Necromancy is considered dark magic for a reason.” His words earned him a swift smack from an annoyed Tamlen.

  “You and I are not mindless zombies, are we? We are flesh and bone with minds of our own, even if we are—” Tamlen threw a wink at Lena. “—bound to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. There are always two sides to the coin,” he said. “Always.”

  “If he’s dabbling in necromancy,” Lena started, “he might be dabbling in other magics too.” She wanted to vomit as she pictured Gregain, the man she respected second only to Bastian, resorting to blood magic and the like.

  Tamlen, still on his knees before her, tried cheering her up, “Perhaps you’re overthinking it. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think it is. If the book is his, it could be possible that he was simply keeping it safe, out of the hands of mages who might accidentally raise the dead.”

  Despite herself and the fear she felt, Lena smiled. “Jerk,” she muttered.

  “I am,” he agreed, “but I am your jerk.”

  “As am I.” Vale added quickly, “But I am not a jerk.”

  Laughing softly, she moved her gaze between her two men. Her world might’ve been crumbling down around her, but she had them, utterly and completely. Her heart ached at the thought of losing them, at the thought of either of them being ripped from her hands if her necromancy was discovered. She couldn’t tell anyone about the book, about what it could do, and she had to discover the truth about Gregain.

  That, though, was a duty for another day. As was the whole Zyssept thing.

  She supposed she should tell them about that, too—about the strange voice in her head while Ingrid ran a cleansing spell over her, but with her small panic attack behind her, she wanted to do something else. The spirit of Hunger might not have been inside her, but it had to have been there at one point in time.

  Right now, with the moon hanging high above all of Rivaini, Lena only wanted one thing. Well, two things, really.

  Running a hand along Vale’s face, Lena whispered, “I could use some comfort right now.” Her fingers danced across the runes on his shoulder as she flicked her eyes to Tamlen. “Unless you’re both tired from each other.”

  Tamlen was offended. “Me, tired? Clearly, you don’t know me well enough yet, love.” His hands found their way to her feet; they were bare. She’d taken off her boots before climbing onto her bed. They traveled up her inner legs, bunching up her robe. “I do wonder what’ll happen to this garment once I tear it off you.” He smirked. “Let’s find out.”

  Just as his hands fiddled with her undergarments, Lena’s whole world went black.

  When Lena opened her eyes, she was on the ground. Grass. The moonlight shone brightly above, illuminating the land in an eerie, silver hue. She felt her head, anticipating a headache, but there was nothing. No injuries. Why did she pass out right when Tamlen was about to take off her clothes? And where in all of Rivaini was she?

  She sat up, looking around as she wondered just how she got there. Surely, the men wouldn’t have dumped her like some useless trash. Surely, they were near. Lena stood, her bare feet taking in the dew that graced the grass. A tree stood to her left, a rather tall tree with numerous thick branches, all growing out of a round, rough stump.

  Her feet drew her to the tree. No. Lena stumbled towards it, back to being nothing but an inept mage who couldn’t even walk without tripping herself. She reached out her hand, tracing the letters that were carved at its base. Letters that she had carved as a child.

  She knew where she was.

  With strange urgency, Lena started running through the hay fields. Her hair, she neglected to realize, was a pure yellow hue, her eyes their natural blue. Her robe did not let her run fast, and she nearly tripped herself on rocks once or twice, but she made it to the burned-down farmhouse, its remains still there, even after all these years. How? Everything looked so recent. The wood sizzled, crackling and popping every few moments. She moved closer, stepping into what used to be her bedroom.

  Memories of a carefree childhood almost brought her to her knees, but Lena pushed on. The silence of the air broke with grunting noises, and she stepped through the ashes and cinders, coming upon the area that was the living room, where she and her parents ate. What she saw startled her to her very core.

  Just like before, in her nightmare with Bastian, only…it wasn’t her. But it was.

  Lena stood, gazing at a naked lookalike, watching as she rocked back and forth on Bastian, whose skin was golden and dark with life. Neither of them looked at her, paid her any attention.

  “No,” Lena whispered. “Stop.”

  At her words, her naked lookalike jerked
to a halt, and she lowered her head to Bastian’s, her yellow hair falling around his face. When the lookalike pulled herself from him and stood, Bastian was dead, a rotting corpse with maggots and flies.

  Lena’s eyes grew teary. Why couldn’t she have a single good thing? Why couldn’t one of her memories remain untainted? Why must she see Bastian be violated in this way? He was a good man. He didn’t deserve such treatment.

  “Despair,” her lookalike spoke, her voice too low, echoing itself in the air. She stepped toward Lena, her body snaking along, hands rubbing along her stomach, between her breasts. “Such a mortal emotion.” She was before Lena now, reaching out a hand, touching her jaw, catching her tears on a dirty thumb. She brought the thumb and the tears to her mouth, licking them off. With a fast, unavoidable jerk of her head, the lookalike grabbed Lena’s face, bringing it to hers.

  The feeling of a tongue traveling up her cheeks, lapping up her tears as if they were the elixir of life, was not a sensation Lena wanted to feel ever again.

  She pulled away, demanding, “Who are you?”

  “I am you.”

  “No, you’re not.” Lena’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “I would never do that.” She glanced to Bastian’s body—or at the area where his body used to lay. He was gone, and she was alone with her filthy, naked lookalike.

  She smiled. “Wouldn’t you? Didn’t you once dream of kissing him, having his arms around you in the way a man touches a woman?”

  Those had been fleeting thoughts, entertained by a young teenager. Lena was only a kid when Bastian had found her—and then a budding teenager with hormones and the like, and he was a handsome man, her knight, her chevalier in shining armor. It was only natural that she’d have wondered things like that. Wasn’t it?

  “This,” her lookalike moved around her, standing at her back, “this is where we first met. Don’t you remember?”

  Remember? She didn’t even know what she was dealing with. She couldn’t—