Crave Series, Book 1

by Tracy Wolff

  I Just Didn’t Realize it

  Was Your Breath

  This one isn’t bad—the ground just rumbles a little. But it’s enough to make me nervous. More than enough to have me sheltering in the nearest doorway, like they taught us in elementary school. No way am I interested in any more injuries…or any more close calls, for that matter.

  When the aftershock finishes a few seconds later, I pull out my phone and text Jaxon. Just to let him know I’m okay—and to make sure he is. Plus, I’d like to actually have a conversation with him where neither one of us is hurt—and half the school isn’t looking on. I text him a quick, Where are you? Want to meet up? then wait impatiently for his answer.

  It doesn’t come, which only makes me more nervous.

  I wish I’d gotten Mekhi’s phone number this morning so I could text him, too, but I didn’t, so I’m stuck, wandering the halls and waiting for Jaxon to text me back.

  Not sure what else to do, I head up the stairs toward Jaxon’s tower. But truth is, I’m not keen on showing up at his door uninvited again. He’s the one who left me in the cafeteria, and he’s the one who isn’t answering my texts. I want to see him, want to talk to him, but I’m not going to chase him anymore. This time, he needs to come to me.

  Which means I probably shouldn’t head back to my room, where I’ll spend all my time obsessing over where Jaxon is and what he’s doing instead of something productive. And I’ve already spent enough of my time thinking about that boy today—probably too much, considering the way he’s currently ignoring me.

  It’s that thought more than any other that has me heading down the hallway to the library as soon as I get to the second floor. I’ve been meaning to go back during regular hours so I can take my time looking around—and also maybe even find some books to check out. Apparently, I have a lot to learn about paranormal creatures, and now is as good a time as any to get started. Plus, I figure my uncle and Macy can’t complain I’m not resting if I spend the day curled up with a bunch of horror movie throw pillows and a good book.

  Class is in session, so the library is almost empty when I get there. Which is more than okay with me—the fewer people I run into, the lower the chance of any more “accidents.”

  I think about starting in the mythology section, seeing if there are any books on the different paranormal creatures I go to school with. It’s where I would start in a regular library, but here at Katmere, monsters are real. So would I find books about them under nonfiction? Or biology?

  This whole monsters are real thing is going to take a lot of getting used to.

  I decide to stop at the main desk and ask the librarian where I should start. And the truth is, I’ve been dying to meet her since I found this place the other day. Her sticker choices and gargoyle placements alone mark her as supercool in my book.

  It’s an impression that is only reinforced when I actually get to see her up close.

  She’s tall and beautiful, with glowing copper skin. Her long, dark hair is threaded with orange and silver tinsel—leftover from Halloween, I imagine—and she’s dressed like a total hippie, all flowing, long-sleeve boho dress and boots. Plus, she’s got a giant smile on her face as I approach, something I haven’t seen much of here at the very dark and very Gothic Katmere Academy.

  “Ms. Royce?” I ask when I reach the front of the desk.

  “You can call me Amka. Many of the students do.” If possible, her grin gets even friendlier. “You must be Grace, the new student all the fuss is about.”

  My cheeks go warm. “That’s not quite how I would have put it, but yeah. I guess I am.”

  “It’s good to meet you. I’m glad to get to know the girl shaking up the status quo around here. They could use it.”

  “They?”

  She chuckles and leans forward just a little. Then, in a loud, staged whisper, says, “The monsters.”

  My eyes go wide at the description, and relief floods me as I think back on what my uncle said. “So you’re human, too?”

  “Most of us are human, Grace. We just also happen to have a little something extra, that’s all.”

  “Oh, right.” I feel like a jerk. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “You didn’t.” She holds out a hand. Seconds later, a light wind blows through the library, ruffling my hair and making the magazines on the rack behind me flutter.

  “Oh! You’re a witch!” I turn my face up so I can feel the breeze.

  “I am. From the Inupiat tribe,” she answers. “With an affinity for the elements.”

  “The elements?” I repeat, emphasizing the S. “So not just wind?”

  “Not just wind,” she agrees. She closes her hand, and the wind dies down instantly. Seconds later, without so much as a flick of her fingers, the candles in all the wall sconces begin to burn. “Fire. And I’d show you water, but I’m thinking you’ve had enough snow already.”

  “I really have,” I agree. “But…if you don’t mind, I’d still like to see it.”

  She nods, and seconds later, snowflakes start falling from the ceiling directly above our heads.

  Instinctively, I reach my tongue out and taste one. Then tell her, “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Keep your eyes open,” she answers. “There are a lot of cool things to see at Katmere.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” I say honestly. Because watching her manipulate the elements actually calms me down, convinces me that maybe things aren’t as scary as I fear.

  “Good,” she says with a wink. “Now, what brings you to my library today?”

  “Honestly, I just wanted to explore some more. I was in here the other day, and I fell in love with it. You’ve done an amazing job.”

  “Books are fascinating and fun. I figure the rooms that house them should be as well.”

  “You’ve definitely made that happen.” I turn and look behind me. “I mean, the stickers alone are incredible. I could spend all day reading them. And the gargoyles. And the horror movie pillows? I love it all.”

  “I figure what’s the good of working in a place like this if I can’t have a little fun with it.”

  “Exactly!” I say with a laugh. “Which is actually the second reason I’m here. I was hoping to find some books that would help me learn more about the different kinds of people who go to school here.”

  She smiles at my clumsy attempt to incorporate the first lesson she taught me in my request—that most of the people here are human, just different. “I admire your open mind. And your willingness to embrace what you’ve learned.”

  “I’m trying. I figure there’s a lot to learn.”

  “You’ve got time.” She reaches over and takes hold of my hands, clasping them between both of hers.

  It surprises me, but doesn’t offend me, so I don’t pull away. Though I kind of wish I had when her eyes start to do this weird swirling thing.

  It’s no big deal, I tell myself. I mean, Macy did a glamour and I was totally okay with it. This is no different.

  Except it feels different. It feels like she’s looking deep inside of me, like she can see way more than I want her—or anyone—to.

  Which is ridiculous. I mean, just because she’s a witch doesn’t make her a mind reader. Except just when I’ve got myself convinced that nothing weird is happening, she whispers, “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not,” I answer, because what else am I supposed to say? That her eye thing is freaking me out a little bit?

  “You’re more than you think you are,” she continues.

  “I…don’t know what that means.”

  She smiles as her eyes go back to normal. “You will when you need to. That’s what matters.”

  “Thank you,” I say, because what else do you say at times like these? I guess I should work up a few comebacks, since I’m going to be
here for a while.

  “Here.” Amka rips a piece of paper off a notepad on her desk and scribbles something down on it, then folds it in half and hands it to me. “You might benefit from checking out the end of the stacks a couple of rows down.”

  “What section is it?” Excitement thrums through me, chasing away the disquiet of just a few moments ago.

  “Dragons.” She flashes a dimple. “Always a good place to start.”

  “Absolutely.” I think of Flint and all the questions I have about him. “Thanks!”

  “No problem. When you find what you’re looking for, you’ll know what to do with this.” She hands me the piece of paper, then reaches under her desk and pulls out a bottle of water. Here, take this, too. And drink it. You need to stay hydrated at this altitude.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I take the bottle. “Thanks again.”

  She just waves me on my way.

  I head down the aisle she pointed to, wondering what kind of books on dragons I’ll find there—especially considering it looks like I’m in the mystery section. But as soon as I get to the end of the aisle, Amka’s grin makes sense, as do her directions. Because sitting at one of the round tables—with his earbuds in and a really old book open to a section with weird writing—is Flint.

  Dragons indeed.

  He glances up when I take a step toward him, and a look I can’t quite decipher flits across his face for a second. It’s followed quickly by a huge grin as he pops out one of his Airpods. “Hey, New Girl! What are you doing here?”

  It’s impossible for me not to smile back. “Researching dragons, apparently.”

  “Oh yeah?” He pats the chair next to him. “Looks like you came to the right place.”

  “Looks like I did.” As I move to sit next to him, I hand him the note Amka gave me. “I think this is for you.”

  “Really?” His brow wrinkles a little as he reaches for the paper. While he reads it, I check my phone to make sure I haven’t missed a text from Jaxon.

  I haven’t.

  “So,” Flint says, deliberately not making eye contact as he drops the note on the table next to the book he’s reading. What do you need to know about dragons?”

  “We can do this later,” I tell him. “I don’t want to interrupt whatever you’re working on.”

  “Don’t worry about it. This is nothing.” He closes the book before I can see much of anything and slides it away from him.

  I see the language on the cover, though. “Oh, hey! Is that an Akkadian text?”

  His eyes go wide. “How did you know about Akkadian?”

  “Actually, I just learned about it for the first time a couple of days ago. Lia was researching it for a project. Are you guys in the same class?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He seems distinctly unenthusiastic, which isn’t exactly a surprise considering how much they seem to dislike each other.

  “What class is it for?” I reach for the book. “I kind of want to take it next semester, if I can.”

  “Ancient Languages of Magic.” He eases the book away before I can even open it up and slides it into his backpack. “So, what are you looking to find out about dragons?”

  “Anything. Everything.” I hold my hands up in an I’m clueless gesture. “This whole magical creatures are real thing is…a lot.”

  “Nah. You’ll get used to it in no time.”

  “That makes one of us who thinks so.”

  He laughs. “Come on. Hit me with your first question.”

  “Oh, I haven’t really thought of specific questions. Except…Macy says you have wings. That means you can actually fly?” My mind boggles at the thought.

  “Yeah, I can fly.” He grins. “I can do other stuff, too.”

  “Like what?” I lean toward him, fascinated.

  “Well, jeez, if we’re going to get into all this, I feel like we need some sustenance.” He reaches for his backpack.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s all good, New Girl.” From the backpack’s front pocket he pulls out a half-eaten bag of marshmallows, then holds it out to me. “Want one? They’re my favorite snack.”

  “Mine too,” I tell him as I take one. “I mean, usually in Rice Krispies treats, but I’m not complaining.”

  I start to pop it in my mouth, but he stops me with a hand on my arm. “Hey, that’s no way to eat a marshmallow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He just wiggles his brows. Then tosses the marshmallow up in the air and blows fire straight at it out of his mouth.

  I shriek, then cover my mouth, half in shock, half in delight, as the marshmallow turns a perfect golden brown right in midair. Seconds later, Flint closes his mouth, and the treat falls directly into his hand.

  He holds it out to me. “Now that’s how you eat a marshmallow.”

  “You’re telling me!” I take it from him and pop it in my mouth. “Oh my God, it’s hot!” I say around the gooey goodness.

  He gives me a look that says, No shit, Sherlock.

  “And it’s perfectly roasted!” I can’t believe how cool this is.

  “Course it is. I’ve been doing this a long time.” He holds the bag out to me. “Want another one?”

  “Are you kidding? I want them all. All the marshmallows, all the time.”

  He grins. “My kind of woman.”

  “Can I throw it?” I pick out another one.

  “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

  I giggle as I toss the marshmallow up in the air. And this time I scream only a little as Flint shoots a stream of fire straight at it.

  When it’s done, he closes his mouth and the marshmallow falls straight back into my hand. It’s hot—really hot—so I juggle it between my hands for a second, waiting for it to cool down. Then I hold it out to him. “This one’s yours.”

  He looks surprised as he glances between the marshmallow and me. Then he says, “Hey, thanks,” and pops it in his mouth.

  We roast the rest of the bag, one after the other—sometimes two or three at a time—and Flint cracks jokes during the whole thing. When the marshmallows finally run out, my stomach is killing me—partly because I’ve been laughing so hard and partly because I just ate a shit ton of marshmallows. Either way, it’s a good hurt, unlike so many other things at this place, so I’ll take it.

  I’m also thirsty af from all the sugar, and I reach for the water bottle Amka gave me. As I do, I can’t help wondering if she gave it to me because she knew I was going to need it. Is foresight a thing with witches? Just one more thing I need to research.

  I start to open the bottle, but Flint snatches it out of my hand before I can even break the seal. “Drinking warm water is such a plebian thing to do,” he teases. Right before he opens his mouth and blows a stream of freezing cold air straight at the water.

  Seconds later, he hands me an ice-cold bottle with another waggle of his brows.

  “Wow. Just…wow.” I shake my head in excitement. “Is there anything else you can do?”

  “What? Flying, fire, and ice aren’t enough?”

  “Yes! I mean, of course they are.” I feel like a total jerk. “I’m sorry. I was just—”

  “Chill, I’m just messing with you.” He holds out a hand, much like Amka did when she was calling up the wind. Except Flint isn’t about anything as boring as wind.

  I watch in astonishment as a cluster of pale-blue flowers blooms on his hand. “Oh my God,” I whisper as I start to smell their subtle fragrance. “Oh my God. How did you do that?”

  He shrugs. “I’m one of the lucky ones.” He holds it out to me, and I reach forward, stroke a gentle finger over one of the flower’s delicate petals. It feels like silk.

  “These are called forget-me-nots. They’re Alaska’s state flower.”

  “They’re beautiful.” I shake m
y head.

  “You’re beautiful,” he answers. And then he leans forward and weaves the stem of flowers into my curls, right above my left ear.

  My stomach bottoms out as his lips come within an inch of mine. Oh, God. Oh no!

  Instinct has me jerking back in my chair, eyes wide and breath coming way too fast.

  But Flint just laughs. “Don’t worry, New Girl. I wasn’t hitting on you.”

  Oh, thank God. I nearly sag in relief. “I didn’t think— I was— I just—”

  “Oh, Grace.” Flint half laughs, half shakes his head. “You’re something else. You know that?”

  “Me? You’re the one who can shoot fire and ice and create flowers out of thin air.”

  “Good point.” He inclines his head, watching me with those molten amber eyes of his. “But I’ll make you a promise right now, okay?”

  “Okay?”

  “When I hit on you, it’ll be because you want me to. And we’ll both know exactly what’s going on when I do.”

  46

  I’ll Get You

  and Your

  Little Dog, Too

  I have no idea what to say to Flint’s promise, which is probably a good thing, considering my throat is suddenly desert dry and I can’t speak anyway.

  Not because I want Flint to hit on me—I don’t. And not because I’m offended by his words, because I’m not. But because when I look into his laughing amber eyes, when I see his infectious smile, I can imagine that if Jaxon wasn’t around, I would totally welcome any move this dragon chose to make.

  But Jaxon is around, and sitting here with Flint just got a million times more awkward.

  I take a long sip of water to wet my throat…and to stall as I try to figure out what to say to defuse the situation. But before I can come up with anything, Flint’s phone buzzes with a series of texts messages.

  He picks up the phone, glances at the messages. And his entire demeanor changes. “Something’s going down.”

  Immediately, I think of Jaxon. “What is it? What’s happening?”

  Flint doesn’t answer, just scoops up his backpack and starts shoving things inside it. As he does, the note Amka sent him falls open and I can’t help but read it: