Wicked Hot Magic: A Paranormal Academy Romance (Salem Academy Book 1)

by Riley London

  His energy feels like liquid silver, like the easy flow of a river through the wildest landscape I can imagine, like a breath of fresh air in a tight space.

  He is standing in the large room by the front door. From the looks of it, he took a nice long shower himself. His black hair is slightly wet, curling at the temples. The dark 5 o’clock shadow along his chin has become something more like a full-on beard. He is wrapped in an exquisitely embroidered silver silk robe.

  Dark and Sexy.

  My hand reaches out to touch it, wanting the sensation of the silky fabric beneath my fingers, before my mind registers what I’m doing.

  I look up and meet his eyes.

  “I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” I say simply.

  It’s no seduction magic that’s drawing my hand toward his body tonight. For a second, my mind goes back to Erik.

  Laying with our bodies entwined together in his king-size bed. I say tentatively, “Erik, I don’t know what this is. I’ve never really done this before.”

  He captures my mouth with his – damn he’s an expert kisser – and then whispers with his breath hot on my ear, “We’ll take it slow. Look Max, I just want to be with you. In my line of work, it’s hard to make a commitment. I could be here today and on the road in another country for months tomorrow.”

  As his words hit me, I realize that I have no idea what the future holds. I don’t know what Father Gabriel wants to do, or how long it will take him to recover.

  Even where he’ll want to recover.

  A little voice deep inside says, I don’t know what I really want either. But then Erik looks into my eyes with a wicked smile.

  “I don’t want to hold you back or tie you down. Let’s just enjoy each other, enjoy the moment and see where things go,” he says lightly, tracing a finger lazily down my body to tease my breasts, before looking a little more serious and then adding, “I know that you have connections with other people here. Maybe with other people beyond here.”

  Talking this openly about these things doesn’t come naturally to me. A flush creeps up my cheeks.

  “What I’m trying to say is that’s fine,” he nibbles on my ear. “I’m always here if you need me. Hell, I hope you need me every day. But it’s totally fine with me if you’re involved with other people, as long as you’re happy.”

  I pull back and look at him hard. His rugged features, that square jaw, muscles for days. How can a man like this be all right with sharing? Was I all right with sharing him if he’s on the road and meets another woman?

  It’s like he reads my mind, because he gives me another smile and then nips at my neck. But when he continues to speak, his voice is deeper and his ears have gone dark red. That note of shyness is back. “I am kind of a one-woman guy, Max.”

  A breath I don’t know I’m holding releases and I exhale. And then I kiss him fiercely, demanding, marking and claiming him as my own.

  But now as I’m standing here in the atrium, looking up into Tristan’s handsome face, I am suddenly unsure.

  Not unsure of how I feel exactly, but not sure what’s supposed to happen.

  It’s quickly becoming clear to me that for whatever reason, every relationship, every interaction has its own cadence. Its own speed.

  “Maximiliana,” Tristan says with a wicked grin that shows he knows how much I hate it when he uses my full name. “You owe me nothing. I remain as ever at your disposal.”

  As I take in the contours of his face, I remember his immense power in the depths of Hell. How he had commanded legions of demons with a single word.

  Still waters run deep.

  Even with all that I have learned of the Fae, Seelie and Unseelie alike, with all that I have learned of Tristan. It’s so clear that I have barely begun to scratch the surface.

  I don’t know what he’s capable of.

  I don’t even know why he’s here.

  I don’t really know if I can trust him.

  But I know one thing for sure. I owe him a debt of gratitude for his help tonight. Without him, we would never have gotten Father Gabriel back.

  And to be honest, I don’t know if Noah and I would have made it out of hell alive.

  And Erik.

  And even Bella, who I wonder about for a passing second.

  In the strange glow of the rising Sun, I stand there and look at this inscrutable man. His dark chocolate eyes – the same color of the purest bitter coffee that I can’t seem to resist – seem to grow a little darker.

  He takes a step toward me, but then only puts his hand lightly on my shoulders. His eyes do that Fae thing that I used to find creepy, where the pupils flash, contract and reflect the light in only the way the Fae can.

  It’s just Tristan, though, now.

  “There are untold mysteries in the universe, Max,” he says in that strange lyrical voice. “It is my most profound wish that we have an opportunity to discover some of them together.”

  That sounds great to me.

  I don’t know where I’m going to be tomorrow.

  I don’t know how Tristan fits in.

  I don’t know how Salem Academy fits in.

  But the one thing that I know for sure is that I have this moment, with this man, and I’m going to make the very best of it.

  And without any worries of seduction magic, of Fae deception, or of what tomorrow will bring, I take a step forward until our bodies touch.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, push myself up on tiptoe, and pull Tristan’s head down toward mine. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare. I put my lips against his in a kiss that seems almost innocent. Chaste.

  A risk.

  An exploration.

  An invitation.

  And for the first time, Tristan seems to trust himself with me. Seems to trust his ability to read my consent and he kisses me back. For some reason, I always expected a real Tristan kiss to be like the man himself.

  Restrained. Polished. Vaguely platonic.

  Hot damn was I wrong.

  Tristan’s hands slide down my body, as his fierce and possessive kiss claims my mouth. My heart beats fast in my chest and my skin comes alive under his touch.

  My eyes drift closed.

  I never close my eyes when I’m with a man.

  But I want to feel his energy so close to mine, his tongue expertly sliding into my mouth. Time seems to slow, and for one strange second it’s hard to tell where I end and where he begins. There’s some sensation, some deeper knowing that in some ways this moment, this entwining of our bodies, fills me with some sense of stillness.

  A calm that I never really knew it was possible to feel. And below that, a spark, of magic meeting magic.

  Soul meeting soul.

  And just as electric shivers run down my body and my heart pounds so hard that the pulse in my neck threatens to explode, Tristan pulls away.

  “I still have so much to learn,” I am bewildered to find myself saying.

  And again those dark eyes meet mine and he gives me a wicked smile. “And I look forward to teaching you,” his voice sounds deeper and huskier than it did just a moment before.

  But he takes a step back, giving me a regretful look. “I have taken you by surprise tonight, though, Maximiliana, and you’ve miles to go before you earn some well-earned sleep. I know you will want to go and check on Father Gabriel. I won’t take any more of your time for now.”

  He gives me one of those inscrutable smiles before he turns and heads up the winding staircase.

  For one wild minute, I think about following him.

  But I don’t.

  It’s time to go and face the whole reason that I have taken this journey.

  I find Serena sitting outside Father Gabriel’s room. They put him in a small bright room on the first floor, not far from her office and Ari’s.

  Every time I’ve seen Serena until now, she’s been dressed head to toe in red. Her styled hair, her ruby lips and 5-inch heels have defined her in my eyes.

&nbs
p; When I saw her show of magic, I realized I was an idiot.

  Right now, she just looks tiny. Her hair is a little flat, she’s not wearing any makeup, and she’s wearing stretchy pants and a shirt not unlike my own.

  She still gorgeous. But all I can think is that I’d give anything to be like this badass woman.

  Half the fighter, half the witch that she is.

  Maybe someday.

  “Serena, I’m so glad to find you here,” I find myself saying. “I wanted to say thank you.”

  She gives me a tired smile and waves away my thanks.

  “You have nothing to thank me for Max,” she says.

  She gives her head a little shake. “When I think back to that day in the attic apartment in the North Ends, I could not have predicted how all of this would end. In truth, I fear that we are still just at the beginning. But for now, let’s celebrate our victories and take tomorrow when it comes.”

  She stands, giving a feline stretch. “When I checked on him last, he was sound asleep. The doctor says he needs rest and that realistically it may take several weeks for him to recover. She’s coming back tomorrow, because he so exhausted it’s really hard to identify the extent of his injuries.”

  I remember the flayed skin, the hollow cheeks, the inky black bruises under both of his eyes.

  A lump rises in my throat and I swallow hard to force it down.

  “We have a lot to talk about Max,” says Serena with a sigh. “But for now, go check on Father Gabriel. And then go get as much sleep as you can. Come find me when you’re ready to talk and we can discuss your plans for the future.”

  The future.

  It’s something that I’m unsure of how to face. In truth, I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next few minutes.

  But I didn’t come this far to turn back.

  I give Serena a nod and a smile and watch her walk down the short hallway the distance to her office.

  I turn back to the dark wood door and let my hands rest on the knob for a few minutes before I finally turn it. Something feels off. What is that sensation? It’s like a trace of evil, maybe something vaguely demonic.

  Shake it off.

  There’s bound to be traces; the entire household spent the night fighting our way through Hell. My nerves are on edge. Enough delaying.

  The door swings open with a creak, light seeping in from the hallway into the darkened room.

  Father Gabriel lays on the bed, under a mound of blankets. He looks like he’s resting, even though he must be in a horrific amount of pain. I think about coming back later.

  But I won’t let fear keep me from this most important man.

  Nor will I let questions – questions that I will have no choice but to ask him in the light of day – come between us tonight.

  I have come to accept that there are some things that I don’t know about Father Gabriel.

  Secrets and vows and old promises that I’m not privy to.

  Things he wants, things he’s done, that he didn’t tell me about.

  For reasons I may never know.

  But I know one thing. When I had no one in the world, this man took me in. He gave me a home, he loved me as much like a father as he was able, and even when the darkest forces in the world tried to wrench us apart, he fought to stay alive.

  Fought to get back to me, so that I wouldn’t be alone.

  That’s enough.

  I take a tentative step into the room, one of the ancient traitorous boards creaking beneath my feet. I freeze, when Father Gabriel’s head turns my way and he raises his hand weekly.

  “Max, is that you?” His voice is rough, like he’s been talking too much. Or screaming too much, I can’t stop my mind from thinking. But the contours of his voice, the trace of the Italian accent just below the surface, are so familiar.

  It takes everything I have not to cry.

  “It’s me. You’re awake?” Across the distance to stand by the bed in a few quick steps.

  “Turn on the light and get me some water?”

  Simple things.

  Things even I can handle in my current state.

  I switch on the lamp beside the bed and wait for his eyes to adjust. I grab a glass of water and turn to put it to his lips. But to my surprise, he’s dragged himself up into a sitting position.

  Tough, tough man, Father Gabriel.

  He’s lost so much weight. But his shoulders are still broad and under the bruises I can see the familiar lines of his face. I watch how his hands shake as he drinks the water and hope that despite the horrors he seen, despite what he’s been through, that he can find his way back to himself.

  To his work. And to me.

  “I wasn’t sure that I ever see you again,” I say before I can stop myself.

  His eyes tighten and he pats the bed. Gingerly, I sit down on the edge trying not to jostle him.

  “Kid, if there’s one thing you should know in the world it’s that I’d fight the devil himself to get back to you.”

  He’d done that and then some.

  My eyes burn. I won’t fucking cry.

  He doesn’t need that.

  I don’t need that.

  My voice is small when it comes out, “I’m just so glad your back, Gabriel.”

  He nods, “Me too, Max. Me too.”

  There’s a long beat of silence. So much I want to say. But now is not the time. Almost belatedly, I remember what is shoved deep in the pocket of my sweatpants.

  Father Gabriel’s rosary, which I’ve carried with me since that first night that I found it among his things in the hotel room.

  Sliding the rosary out of my pocket, I drop it into his hand.

  What happens next, I will never forget.

  I see it, something that flares. A faint trace of demonic light that’s woven into his aura. Not the lingering remnants of something he picked up; something deeper.

  Darker.

  More sinister.

  As if by instinct, his fingers close around the old, worn blessed beads. His eyes are drifting shut. The relief that he’s back, really back, rolls off him in palpable waves.

  Then he makes the sound, like a hissing sound, and hurls the rosary at the wall. My eyes snap up to his.

  His eyes flash open for just a second.

  Instead of the familiar kind dark eyes, what I see there makes my blood run cold.

  The lines between the black of his pupil and the light brown irises are gone. Instead, the entirety of his eyes have bled to black. The outer edge is ringed with the familiar, horrible molten red.

  Just a second passes. A split-second.

  Eternity compressed into the blink of an eye.

  His eyes do a strange insect blink and then it’s over.

  My breath catches in my throat, and my own eyes blink against my will. When I look back into his eyes, it’s just Father Gabriel looking back.

  He looks tired. Exhausted, really.

  But it’s him.

  But whatever had been staring back at me just a few seconds before? That fucker had definitely not been Father Gabriel.

  Oh hell no.

  I fought my way to the heart of Lucifer’s realm to wrench this man back into reality from his clutches.

  Maybe he’d come back broken. Maybe spending time in hell did something to make the divine within an exorcist profane. Maybe he’d brought back some kind of ridealong.

  I know one thing for sure: I will root out whatever that is and cast it back to the depths of hell.

  Father Gabriel may be here.

  For today, that is enough.

  I don’t want to upset him. Or frankly, upset whatever it is that’s inside him when I’m at the ragged edge. Unprepared to fight.

  But it seems tomorrow contains another battle for me to fight. However, this makes my next words easy.

  “It sounds like the doctor thinks you may need a few weeks to recover. What do you say about recovering here?” I am ready to explain that I want to continue my training.
That I have unfinished business here in Salem.

  One thing has always been true about Father Gabriel: if something was easy and within his power to do that would make me happy?

  He would do it without complaint.

  “Sure thing kid,” he says with a weak smile. “It seems like I’ve got a lot of sleep to catch up on and this is just a good a place as any. I don’t know how long it’ll be before I’m up to being on the road again.”

  I stand, handing him another glass of water before reaching to turn out the light.

  “I am so glad that you’re here and that you’re safe. Get as much sleep as you can. I am going to rest and will check in with you as soon as I wake up,” I promise.

  I’m across the room and almost out the door before I hear his voice in the dark, “Do you know where my rosary is?”

  Without answering, I step into the hall and shut the door behind me with the click.

  I fight not to react to the strange hissing sound that emanates from my mentor’s voice just as it clicks shut.

  There are some calls I need to make.

  Questions to ask.

  Shit to do.

  Demons to slay.

  But one thing is clear: Salem Academy is stuck with me for a while longer.

  The sound of footsteps approaching brings my eyes up. I expect to see Serena, or maybe even Erik checking on me.

  Instead, the familiar bony form of Brother Dominic stands there. Wild thatch of white hair. Ill fitting brown robes. Orthopedic white sneakers that stand out like a sore thumb. A scowl.

  When he’s just a foot away, I throw my arms around him and after a long strange minute, he pats my back.

  “You did well, Max.” It costs him, and that makes those four words dear to me.

  Burns them into my mind.

  Reminds me never to forget the kindnesses of men who face evil day in and day out.

  But the rush of it goes out of me as I think back to what happened in the room behind us.

  “He’s back, Dominic, but something’s wrong…”

  He gives his head a shake.

  “I’m here now, Max. Right here to stand guard. Nothing gets into that room,” he says darkly, “or out of it. Go get some sleep.”

  He knows.

  How the hell does he know?

  “I gave him his rosary,” I start to say, but this time there’s a sharper shake and a raised warning hand.