Threat (Academy of Unpredictable Magic Book 4)

by Sadie Moss

  I lick my lips, practically panting like a cartoon character, as he crawls up my body to hover over me, teasing me with the head of his dick, rubbing it back and forth over my clit.

  “Oh, God,” I groan, tilting my hips and pressing them upward, trying to capture his cock with my pussy.

  But he pulls away, just out of reach, a wicked grin tilting his lips. When I frown at him and let my pelvis drop back to the floor, he resumes his teasing strokes against my clit, using just the tip of his cock to drive me insane.

  “God,” I whimper again, wriggling and writhing as I try to get more contact. Just a little more.

  “Nah, you can call me Dmitri,” he murmurs, pulling away again when I thrust my hips upward.

  I narrow my eyes at him, still breathing heavily. “Are you sure? ’Cause there are a few other names I’d like to call you right now.”

  He chuckles low in his throat, the sound full of so much dangerous promise that my core clenches and my stomach tightens. He resumes his torturous circling of my clit, and I swear, I can feel every contour of his cock-head on the sensitive bud. It feels fucking amazing, actually, but at the same time, it’s not enough.

  How the hell is he doing this? Where did he find the fucking willpower? I’m the one who already came once, but I’m also the one who’s about to lose her shit. My body is trembling, need building up inside me like air in a balloon, and the man above me somehow finds it in himself to keep teasing us both.

  “Dmitri,” I grit out, glaring up at him even as my pelvis chases his. “I. Will. Kill. You.”

  A beaming smile breaks out across his face at that—because of course it does—and the sight actually makes me stop moving for a second. It’s beautiful. Breathtaking. Like a rainbow after a heavy storm.

  Note to self: do not ever tell Dmitri I compared his smile to a rainbow.

  I stare up at him, momentarily distracted from my efforts to get him to just fuck me already, and he slips his cock just an inch inside my pussy.

  His hands come to rest on either side of my head, bracing his body above me. “No need for that, Princess,” he says in a low voice. “You know I’ll always take care of you.”

  And then he does.

  He surges forward, slamming into me in one hard thrust, and ohhh, fuck me six ways from Sunday, that’s exactly what I needed. My mouth drops open in a silent O, but no words or sounds come out as pleasure rips through my body. My walls squeeze around him—welcoming him, adjusting to him, stretching for him. The smile on his face fades to a look of determined concentration as he begins to fuck me like he means it. We move across the floor a little each time he pistons into me, and my breasts bounce from the force of the movement.

  Dropping down to his elbows, he finds my lips with his and kisses me, the strokes of his tongue matching those of his cock. I wrap my hands around his biceps and bring my legs up, resting my heels on his ass and hanging on for the ride.

  I can feel when he gets close. His cock, already so thick inside me, seems to swell even more, and the look on his face becomes almost angry, as if he’s pissed at the idea that this might be over soon. Before I know what’s happening, he’s slipping out of me, and then he grabs my hips and flips me over.

  I’m about to go up on my hands and knees, but before I can, Dmitri is already pressing inside me again. His arm slides under my cheek to protect it from the floor, and with me lying flat on my stomach, his cock rubs at a spot inside me that makes my breath hitch. He’s so deep, impossibly deep, and he thrusts slowly as he drapes his body over mine, his clove and honey scent enveloping me.

  “You made me feel better, Princess,” he murmurs in my ear as he pushes us both toward release. “You make me want to be better. And not just today. Every day.”

  The last word ends on a choked grunt as he comes hard. His cock pulses inside me, and I squirm and moan as I follow on his heels, feeling small and helpless beneath him in a way I love.

  He pulls out of me and rolls me over again, kissing me over and over as our bodies come down from the high. I’m still breathing heavily, my heart thudding in my chest, when he gets up and stumbles toward the bathroom, returning with a small towel a moment later. He wipes up the wetness leaking down my thigh and then wads the towel into a ball and throws it back into the bathroom before collapsing beside me again.

  I chuckle softly. I’ll have to throw it in the hamper later, but for now, I can’t be bothered. We’re still on the floor near his bed, both of us too exhausted to actually get up and move onto it, even though it would probably be more comfortable.

  Dmitri grabs a blanket that’s dangling off the side and yanks until it slides down off the bed. Then we wrap ourselves in it, our legs tangled, my head on his shoulder and his arm around me.

  I don’t ask anything.

  I don’t pry, even though I want to know it all. I want to ask him if he’s okay, if that was good for him—I mean, of course it was, not to toot my own horn—not just physically, but psychologically. Was that what he needed? Does he want to talk? Is there something more I could do?

  I want to be a support for him. I want to help him. And with Dmitri more than any of the others, I feel like half the time I’m stumbling around in the dark. I’m falling in love with him, and I respect him so much as a person, but I’m still learning how to show those things in a way that’s right for him. How to speak his love language, if you wanna get all touchy-feely about it.

  Before I can even begin to think of what to say or decide whether I should say anything at all, Dmitri clears his throat.

  “They’re always like that,” he says quietly.

  I don’t have to ask who “they” are. I know.

  “Normally they try to be more… passive aggressive about it.” His voice is low, rough, just above a whisper. He’s not looking at me but staring up at the ceiling, his fingers slowly tracing circles over my shoulder as his other hand grips the blanket tightly.

  “They don’t want people to think they’re bigoted.” He snorts. “They’re always donating to charities, making sure they’re seen at the right events, that kind of thing. It’s important to them that they look… good, always. But they’ll find ways to tear down the people they think are beneath them, even if they do it with a smile. That’s the kind of people they are. They’re always right, they’re always on top. Nothing can change their minds.”

  God, I hate them. Everything I learn about them makes me dislike them more. But I keep my mouth shut, wrapping my arms around Dmitri and relishing the closeness of our bodies as he continues talking.

  “My father’s more controlling than my mom, so he’s more willing to get down and dirty like you saw out there. He’s fucking ruthless in a board meeting. He wants to be top dog and demands that everyone constantly do as he says. Our family’s power is everything. Mother is… she’s more worried about how we present ourselves. Perfection. Nothing less than perfect grades, the perfect outfit, the perfect reputation.”

  A heavy sigh falls from his lips, and I swear I can hear his teeth grinding together.

  “They just refuse to accept anybody that isn’t up to their standards. And Unpredictable people… well, it’s right there in the name, isn’t it?” Dmitri huffs out a harsh snort of laughter. “They can’t control us. They can’t put us into a neat little box the way they can with every other kind of magic user. So they don’t like us. They don’t like me.”

  He pauses, and for a few moments there’s silence.

  I want to tell him so many things that it feels like the words all cram up in my mouth. I want to tell him his parents would’ve been just as awful no matter what kind of magic he had. I want to tell him he can’t blame himself for things that are out of his control. I want to tell him screw his parents, and that I think it’s a miracle he turned out to be such an amazing person after all the shit they’ve pulled.

  But I have a feeling Dmitri still has more to tell me, so I keep quiet and give him a moment.

  At last he says, “Some
times I wonder… They can’t accept anything that isn’t up to their standards, anything they can’t control. They couldn’t control me. Not when they thought I didn’t have magic, and not when I turned out to be Unpredictable. Before my magic sparked, I could see the anger and panic on my father’s face whenever he looked at me. Year after year, and I never had magic. He was losing his shit.”

  Dmitri smiles momentarily at the memory, but it’s tinged with bitterness. “He was convinced for a while that I already did have magic and was just hiding it from him so I could be free of him. It was amusing. Kind of. But also awful.”

  I want to say I’m sorry, and with anyone else I probably would, but I know Dmitri doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want my sympathy, no matter how much he knows it’s because I care about him.

  “Anyway. Sometimes… I worry. What if I hadn’t been Unpredictable? What if I’d had regular magic? Fire elemental powers like my mother? If I had… my father would’ve been much more subtle in his control. He wouldn’t have been such a bully to me, he wouldn’t have been disappointed and angry. He could’ve manipulated me. Molded me into his image. To think and act like him.”

  He scrubs a hand over his face, and I can feel tension gathering in his body. I hold him a little tighter, trying to absorb some of it into myself.

  “That… scares me,” he admits. “More than I can express. The idea that I could have turned out like him. Snobby, elitist, cold-hearted. An utter bastard. It was being Unpredictable that taught me how to be more open-minded, to accept the differences I saw in people. To be okay with diversity instead of running from it in fear. Without that… who knows what kind of asshole I would’ve become? And it fucking terrifies me.”

  My heart squeezes in my chest, thudding hard against my ribs.

  I don’t think that there’s any way Dmitri could’ve turned out like his father. The guy’s cranky as fuck sometimes, sure—but it’s because he’s withdrawn, used to being alone, used to keeping his walls up, just like me.

  His father and mother didn’t give him the love and support he needed. How could he possibly have turned out like them, thinking he owned the world, when he couldn’t even earn the approval of the two people who were supposed to love him unconditionally?

  Dmitri may be difficult to get along with at times. I’m not denying that. But he has a good heart. An amazing heart. He doesn’t say much, but he always protects me, looks out for me. He holds me when I need it, he sat by my bedside all summer while I was in a coma… and none of that was because I was Unpredictable. It was because he cared about me.

  He’s a good friend to Cam and Asher. Cam’s a jokester and Asher has the patience of a saint, but neither of them would be friends with a genuine asshole. The fact that they patiently weather Dmitri’s darker moods means there’s something worth it for them—and that’s Dmitri’s loyalty, his support, his willingness to have their backs in anything, to stay up until all hours of the night helping them with their homework.

  He gives more of himself than I think he even realizes.

  That didn’t come from nowhere. And it didn’t come just in the last couple of years since he found out he was an Unpredictable. It had to be there the whole time.

  Dmitri might not believe me if I say all of this though. After all, I can’t look into other potential universes or timelines and say for certain that Dmitri would’ve turned out to be a good person with or without Unpredictable magic. All I have is my faith in him.

  So instead, I lean up a little so I can look him in the eyes.

  “Asher once told me that it’s not healthy to play the game of ‘what-if’. You can play it all day, because there are so many different ways your life could’ve gone. There are so many different paths you could’ve taken. But what’s the point of it? You can’t ever prove anything. You can’t say for certain that things would’ve gone one way or another, so all you’ll do is go around in circles until the end of time.”

  I reach up to run my fingers over his jaw, cupping the side of his face, trying to absorb the entirety of the darkly beautiful man gazing back at me.

  “We can’t ever really know how we would’ve turned out if things had been different. But that’s okay, because we have power over who we are now. We can’t always change what goes on around us, but that’s kind of freeing, right? Like your father—I bet the more he tries to control things, the more out of control he actually feels. All you can do is control your own actions and do what you think is right.”

  I tilt my head to the side, smiling tentatively at him. “If nothing else, I like you just the way you are.” Then my face darkens. “Even if I don’t think we should vacation with your family on a cruise ship. Somebody would end up getting tossed overboard, and it wouldn’t be me.”

  Dmitri snorts a laugh, but his eyes are warm and grateful as he gazes at me, a soft smile on his lips.

  “I believe that, Princess.” His mouth drops to mine, and his kiss is heartbreakingly sweet. “Thank you,” he whispers against my lips.

  Draping my body over his, I kiss him back with everything I have.

  I might not be able to give Dmitri the parents he deserves or fix any other parts of this mess, but I can at least reassure him that there are people who care about him.

  And I like to think that’s something.

  Chapter 15

  “The nature of your combat training will be changing,” Tamlin announces.

  We’re all in class the week after midterms, sitting in the desks that line the edges of the large classroom as she paces slowly back and forth in front of us. She’s looking at all of us like a hawk, like she’s taking our measurements, soaking us all up so she can pinpoint exactly where each one of us needs work.

  All of us are shifting in our seats, wondering what could possibly happen next. Are they going to shut down combat class? Have the powers that be decided we’re too powerful, too dangerous?

  People are already calling for independent outside oversight of the school. They say that Circuit representatives need to inspect the school grounds and the students, that the administration can’t be trusted. Hardwick managed to placate the parents for now, but Dmitri’s folks and others are calling for the school to be shut down, or for Hardwick to be replaced, or for the Circuit to get involved—or some combination of all three. Nobody seems to agree on what needs to be done, just that something must be done, and that Unpredictables are dangerous.

  The magical news channels are taking all of this and running with it, of course. Sensationalizing all of it. Someone talked to them about the parents coming to the school, maybe one of the parents themselves, maybe even Dmitri’s family. Now the news outlets are all focused on the clash between the magical community’s elite and Unpredictables. There are panels debating different sides… it’s ridiculous.

  I hoped that when the parents left, it would be the end of it. Hardwick did a good job of getting everyone to calm down, and I hoped after some adult discussion it would all be fine.

  Guess not.

  Tension hangs in the air as we all wait to hear what Tamlin might say. Combat class didn’t make sense to me when I first got here, but now it feels like my most important class. The only class I really care about, and definitely the only one I’m reliably good in.

  I’ve always thought Tamlin looks a bit like an African-American Audrey Hepburn. Her delicate features are pensive as she gazes at us, and it looks like she’s struggling for a moment with a strong emotion before her face smooths over into its usual calm and poised demeanor.

  “We’re going to be focusing more on defensive moves from now on.”

  There’s a soft rustling sound as people shift in their chairs.

  My stomach pitches. I don’t know if this new direction is because people don’t want us knowing how to attack them, thinking that we’re already too dangerous, or if it’s because Tamlin and the rest of the staff think it’s more important than ever that we learn how to protect ourselves.

  Maybe it’s both
.

  I compulsively turn my head to glance out the window, even though I can’t see them from this angle. The towers.

  They’re about twenty feet high now.

  Nobody knows anything more about them than we did before. There’s talk of the Circuit coming in to inspect them, but some people are against that because it could give the Circuit an opening to inspect all of us and establish their own order in the school.

  Yeah, it’s a fucking mess.

  Hell if I have any idea how to fix it, but I know that what people are proposing so far is bullshit. It just feels like we’re stuck between a bunch of crappy solutions with no real good one to turn to.

  “I know that this might come as a surprise to you,” Tamlin goes on. “After all, I think my favorite saying in this class is…”

  “The best defense is a good offense,” we all chorus.

  It’s one of those phrases Tamlin repeats so often it’s been ingrained into our heads by now. It’s a sign of what a good teacher she is that she’s got us all repeating these things at her automatically.

  Her dark eyes gleam with pride. “Yes, exactly. But there are going to be times when you need to stay on the defensive. There are martial arts disciplines that focus completely on the idea of using your opponent’s strength and energy against them and working to disarm them and only protect yourself, rather than lashing out and trying to actively disable them.”

  Tom raises his hand. “Professor, is this because people think we’re too dangerous? Did the Circuit order this change?”

  There’s a murmur from everyone.

  Tamlin deflates a little. “No, this isn’t because anybody thinks you all are too dangerous. Although that is a consideration. This is because I want to make sure that if I ever hear any of you got into a fight, you’re all squeaky clean. I want you to be able to say to a judge or an officer that you only defended yourself. I want you to be so in the clear that nobody can even think about charging you with anything.”

  The whole class grows quiet, and I realize I’ve been unconsciously gripping the sides of my desk as I listen to her speak.