by Rhea Watson
“I believe he’s just stepped out,” she said with a sniff, draped in black lace with ivory feathers glued to her eyelids like some weird attempt at a couture cat-eye. Without even glancing my way, she smiled at her admin girls, the cattiest on campus, and then reached for a scallop hors d’oeuvre from the tray this clique must have outright stolen from the buffet. “I’m sure he’ll be back momentarily. Shockingly, I see no emergency…” At last, her keen tawny greys flitted up to me. “Try to enjoy yourself, Professor Clarke, or you’ll get frown lines.”
What the actual fuck.
Okay.
Whatever.
I murmured my thanks through a strained smile, then headed for the main doors. Root Rot’s headmaster wasn’t the type to wander; if he had stepped out, he would either be in his office or stalking the halls that led to it.
Jack needed to know what had been going on at his school this term. He needed to understand why, to me, Bjorn’s two-hour absence felt like a fucking emergency.
Sorry, Bjorn, but I can’t keep your secret anymore.
The outer corridors were substantially cooler than the hall, though no less quiet. With the doors open, music and laughter and shrieking and dull orange light spilled out across the stonework, trailing after me as I marched for the nearest winding stairwell.
For the millionth time tonight, my heel snagged between two stone tiles, and I lurched forward just shy of rolling my ankle, bracing on the stairwell’s doorway with a hiss. Stupid gorgeous shoes. If Bjorn were here, I would have ditched them by now, my dress long enough to hide bare feet while we worked the dining hall all night, keeping an eye on things, getting the odd dorky dance in—together, like we’d planned. Instead, my poor toes stayed stuffed in designer heels, already blistered and in no mood to walk a step further.
But for Bjorn, I could take the pain.
Shoulders back, I dragged open the wooden door and steeled myself for whatever I might find on the other side. Staff had caught numerous couples getting handsy in the staircases tonight despite the additional security. These guys were supposed to be at the top of their game, best in the field, yet I had seen them taking swigs from flasks, chatting and laughing like they were here to enjoy their Samhain, too.
I mean, I kind of understood. Samhain was a blast around the supernatural world, no matter what you called it—Halloween or the Devil’s Night or Samhain or whatever—and regardless of whether you looked at it as a holy night or not…
But show some professionalism, assholes. Our kids were at risk on good days.
Fortunately, the door opened to an empty landing and shadowy stairs twining upward. As soon as it swung shut behind me, the gala’s din died, muffled and muted enough that my ears exploded with a high-pitched whine that made me wince. Rubbing at the left one, I gathered my dress and my cape with my free hand and staggered up the stairs—
Bam. Right into Jack’s broad chest.
The headmaster nearly bulldozed clear through me, virtually soundless as he whizzed down the stairs. Pain pulsed through my arms where we had collided, and I teetered into the wall, having to crane my head way back just to look him in the eye. He blinked down at me like he didn’t think I was real—like he couldn’t fathom why I was even there.
As soon as I dipped a toe in his obsidian gaze, his skin like black velvet in the dimly lit space and his figure filling the stairwell in a way that was almost suffocating—and intoxicating—I was doomed. Done for. Screwed. My brain shorted out, and I let my dress and cape flutter back to the ground.
Just like the waltz, we moved as one without a word, Jack drifting down a few steps while I shakily climbed up three to lessen the vast height difference between us.
There…
There was a reason I’d been looking for him.
He…
Bjorn—
I drew in a deep breath, hoping that whatever came out carried the same sense of panicked urgency I had felt less than a minute ago.
But then he touched a rebellious curl, one of many that had broken away from the million bobby pins holding my hair in its artfully messy chignon. Heavy-lidded and silent, imposing and masterful, Jack lifted his huge hand to my face and traced the curl with one finger. So delicate. So careful. Reverent, almost, in the way he caressed the loose corkscrew from top to bottom. My lips parted, then snapped shut as that cautious finger leapt to my throat.
He mapped that with the same tenderness, whispering over my thundering pulse point, dipping gently into the hollow, trailing up the center, his jaw gritted, muscles dancing, when I gulped. Serious and brooding had never done it for me before; that whole shtick equated to boring in my mind. But Jack made serious sexy. He made brooding a temptation I couldn’t resist.
For such a big man, he touched me so gently—
Until he didn’t.
Until his whole hand snapped around my neck, cuffing me and thrusting me back into the wall. I collided against the stone with a shocked squeak, heart in my throat just as desire throbbed between my thighs.
Skin hot, his rough caress was fire—and for the first time in my life, I didn’t fear it. My knees may have wobbled and my adrenaline may have skyrocketed, but I didn’t want to run. Didn’t want to move. Barely wanted to breathe in case that shattered the moment.
Gods, what am I doing?
Jack swooped in close suddenly, bringing with him a cloud of that overtly masculine cologne, musky and spicy enough to make my mouth water. Lips parted and trembling ever so slightly, I fumbled at his jacket, fisting the rich fabric and wrenching him closer, spurring him on.
Only my touch seemed to shock him.
Terrify him, even.
He reared back with a sharp breath, ripping his hand from my throat like I was the inferno, like I had burned him.
“I’m so sorry, Alecto—”
“Bjorn!”
Oh my gods, what the hell, brain? Way to blurt another man’s name in front of the one who just set you on fucking fire. Horrified, I gaped up at Jack like a fish out of water, while he blinked down at me like I had six heads. Fantastic.
“W-what?”
I’d never heard him stutter before; it was more unsettling than I cared to admit.
“Bjorn,” I said again, fighting to calm my racing heart, to extinguish the heat roasting me from the inside out. “He’s still not back, and I can’t find him anywhere.”
Along with the stutter, Jack looked disheveled for the first time, his tie skewed to the side and his jacket rumpled. Out of control. My headmaster was always confidently in control of every situation, but here… he floundered.
Only for a few seconds, of course. Then he was back, tie straightened before he smoothed a hand over his short, cropped black hair, the ends of his sideburns fading into salt-and-pepper territory.
“Bjorn wanders from time to time,” he told me stiffly, almost too in control now. “I’m sure he’s fine—”
“Someone vandalized his classroom earlier in the term,” I blurted again, raising my voice to talk over him and really drive the point home.
Mission accomplished. I always wilted under the heft of his stare, but all the times that came before paled in comparison to this, to his full attention resting squarely on me like he could see right down to my marrow. That hot, flustered feeling came pounding back like a riptide, one that would drag me out to sea and drown me if I wasn’t careful.
Focus, girl.
“He made me promise not to tell,” I admitted, all the hot and flustered suddenly making room for small and guilty as Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Said you had enough on your plate… but it was horrible. There were wooden stakes on his chair and piles of dead leeches on his desk. Someone even carved the word into it… The whole place looked like a hurricane had ripped through.”
“What?” It wasn’t a question—not really. Not in the traditional sense. It was a one-word threat that made me want to run and hide.
“And then s-someone nailed a cross to our door after Mabon,” I adde
d, losing some steam toward the end and trailing off in a whisper. Guilt and fear smothered the previous burst of excitement and desire. Fear that I had let Jack down. Guilt that I hadn’t come to him sooner.
But maybe Bjorn had had a point—because Jack Clemonte looked about two seconds away from ripping someone in half with his bare hands.
“Now he’s missing,” I babbled, fidgeting with my cape, my hair, my rings, anything to keep my shaking hands busy, “and I’m worried it’s something more serious—”
“I’ll find him,” Jack remarked, his tone gruff and scary—yet somehow oddly gentle, too. His hand found my body again even as its touch lingered around my throat, invisible and hot and vaguely sore, only this time he went somewhere safe. Briefly, he gripped my arm, offered a reassuring squeeze as the corners of his mouth kicked into a forced smile.
Then he was gone, and I was just… bereft. Lost in the storm.
“Headmaster—”
“I’ll take care of this immediately,” he insisted before shooting down the stairs and yanking open the door so hard it banged off the wall, then slammed shut behind him.
And I just stood there, alone and confused, too hot beneath this stupid cape.
While I was confident Jack could fix literally any problem he set his mind to, I couldn’t just go back to the gala and do nothing. Bjorn would fight tooth and nail for me if I were missing. He might have been quiet and snarky, might have kept his distance from our coworkers and cared too much about his problem kids, but he would raise hell for me. I was sure of it.
So, bundling up my dress and cape again, heels be damned, I jogged the rest of the way up the staircase, on the hunt for the one person in this castle who was as powerful as he was discreet.
And as much a genius as he was a man whore.
27
Gavriel
“Oh, Gavriel, I’m so chilly.”
Well, well, well, that was a lovely little moan from…
From…
Okay, so I couldn’t recall her name, but I still knew who she was—in theory. One of the new nurse hires. Full lips and exquisite caramel skin and thick, luscious hair. An exceptional dancer and beyond willing to escape the calamity of the Samhain gala with me, hand in hand to my usual haunt in the courtyard.
I nuzzled her neck, dragging an openmouthed kiss up the fiery column and nibbling at her earlobe.
“Don’t worry, darling,” I purred, tucking her deeper into the awaiting embrace of the ancient oak, trapping her between its aging bark and my firm body. “I’ll keep you warm.”
Her giggle had a delectable smoky quality to it, and she writhed against me—even in that massive maroon ball gown that was a fucking nightmare to maneuver during the waltz. No matter. I’d be under it in a few minutes, what with the way her breath hitched and her hand twined into my hair, undoing a good hour of meticulous styling in front of the bathroom mirror this evening while Seamus pounded on the door from the other side, demanding access.
But then again, sex-tousled locks really were the in thing for men this year—
“Oh!” She straightened with a gasp, jerking me out of my thoughts, my wandering hands suddenly stilling and clenching. When I glanced up, I found her head twisted to the left, her eyes wide and her supple lips hanging open. Exhaling sharply, I too looked left, ready to rip whichever security twat had interrupted us a new asshole…
Only to find Alecto fucking Clarke standing a few feet away, bundled up in her cape and looking awkward as hell.
“Hi, hi, sorry,” she stammered, hands up innocently as my Samhain date shoved me away, her expression morphing from wanton curiosity to shame in a heartbeat. Well, fuck you, too…
Er.
Fuck you, too…
Mavis?
“Sorry, Sonia,” Alecto carried on. Sonia. Yes. Fuck you, too, Sonia. The herbalism professor who had wormed under my skin ages ago, who I had done a stellar job ignoring for weeks, took a step forward, her breath fogging as the temperature continued its steady plummet toward zero. “I… I just need to talk to Gavriel real quick, and then you can go back to, uh, this—”
“What the fuck, Alecto?” I seldom ever said her name, and it startled us both, my chest tightening and her cheeks coloring. “No. Go away.”
Her amber eyes darted to me, staring straight into mine as few women did. “It won’t take very long—”
“Piss. Off.” I braced a hand on the tree, trying to keep my date from putting even more distance between us, but Sonia ducked under my arm and busied herself with her massive ball gown.
Fixing what I’d crumpled.
Damn it.
“Normally I would,” Alecto insisted, jerking her chin toward Sonia, eyebrows up like she and I were accustomed to playing each other’s wingmen. “I so would. I’d rather be anywhere else right now, but I just need—”
“For fuck’s sake,” I growled, lashing back and grabbing Sonia’s busy hands and clamping down around one bony wrist. “Either join in or bugger off.”
Sonia scoffed, wrenching her arm free, and Alecto just stared at me like I was the realm’s biggest idiot, then cleared her throat.
“Uh. No.”
Groaning, I stabbed a hand through my hair and turned—only to find Sonia stalking toward one of the nearby archways.
“I’ll see you inside, darling,” I called after her, chest even tighter when she didn’t so much as glance back. “Two minutes.”
Ugh. I had so much groundwork to recover now. Jaw clenched, I wheeled around to Alecto, whose apologetic grin was met with a glare withering enough to turn her to stone, yet she stood there, untouched by my ire, living and breathing and not stone. I motioned after Sonia’s retreating figure, then back to me, back and forth, back and forth. Look what you just cost me.
Alecto rolled her eyes and held up a hand like I was being too much. “Okay, fucking relax. You can go perv on her after.”
This uppity little—
Teeth bared, I closed in on her with an air of fae violence that usually sent lesser beings scrambling in the opposite direction. All I got from this would-be fury was a crinkled nose and a what the hell are you doing? lift of her brow, along with a waft of sweetness from the dried roses in her hair—which was quite stylish, same as the outfit itself. Everyone went so dark for Samhain; Alecto chose to dress like queen of the Sun Court.
Telling.
But never mind that—
“Bjorn is missing.”
I reeled the threatening persona back in, just for a moment. “What?”
“Bjorn.” Alecto pursed her lips, speech slowed way down. “Is. Missing.”
“I heard you,” I said flatly, seconds away from throwing this mouthy little witch over my knee. “I fail to see why that’s my problem.”
“Look, there’s been a lot of anti-vampire bullshit happening around us lately.” She smoothed a few rogue curls away from her face with a huff. “We’ve been keeping it on the down low from everyone, but I’m worried something has finally happened—and I know you guys are close—”
My snort had her eyes narrowing.
“Okay.” She motioned to me with a little hand flourish. “You’re both outcast weirdos—”
“I am certainly not an outcast,” I drawled. Honestly, she had been at this academy all of three seconds; what the fuck did she know? Alecto let out a long sigh and closed her eyes like I was just so trying, and I took that as a win.
“Gavriel.” Those amber pools shot up to me a second later, tinted with exasperation—and perhaps a whiff of cruelty. “Based on your reputation, you’re basically just a fae dildo, so let’s cut the crap.”
Right. That stung more than it should. Yes, I used mindless sex to both manipulate those around me and distract from the fact that I was no closer to filling that one-hundred-student requirement set forth by Lucifer three years ago, but I also just liked fucking. Was that a crime? Should I be penalized for it? Should my name suffer?
My chest suddenly ached, an icy fist clamp
ing around my heart and squeezing all the mirth out.
“Well.” I sniffed, scowling down at her, my tone cold and infuriatingly bitter. “You would know better than anyone, hmm?”
Unfazed, Alecto blew me off with another eye roll. “Whatever. Do you know any good locator spells? Fae are such good trackers—”
“Is there a reason you’ve roped me into this?” We fae were exceptional trackers—but then again, fae were exceptional at everything compared to the creatures of this realm. Still, I wasn’t required to carry the weight of our excellence on my back, nor did I need to dole out those skills to everyone who came calling.
Alecto stared at me for another long, silent beat, then shook her head, cheeks sunken and gaze beyond disappointed.
Just like Bjorn that day on the athletic pitch.
And just like that day, the disappointment actually hurt.
Why the fuck did it hurt?
Where had all my armor gone?
“Fine,” she muttered, slowly gathering up her cape and tiptoeing backward. “Don’t give a shit about Bjorn—or just keep putting on this stupid façade and pretend not to. Whatever. I’ll do this myself.”
She came to me because she thought I cared.
Because she thought I had the skill and prowess to help.
Alecto searched me out on a night that was supposed to be her night because she… valued me.
She had been a right bitch about it, but never mind.
Suddenly, a pinch of the tension in my chest lifted.
“Ugh, fine,” I snapped, voice cracking through the courtyard and slowing her dramatic storm-off. Ridiculous woman. I wasn’t helping because I cared, but because I intended to prove her wrong and really rub it in her face after.
I was not just a walking, talking sex toy.
“Do you have any chalk in that greenhouse of yours?” I demanded when she reeled around to face me, wearing a look that implied she thought I was fucking with her.