by Lane Hart
“Well, you can’t exactly just show up in my dorm room,” I remark. “So what other option do we have?”
“I don’t know yet,” Rowan responds. “But I’m working on it.”
“Work faster,” I tell him as I nip at his plump bottom lip with my teeth.
“What’s the rush?” he asks. “Are the masters pressuring you?”
“Oddly enough, no.”
“Hmm,” he mutters. “I thought they would’ve been insisting that you mate with one of the warlocks by now.”
“I see Voss three times a week for Latin, and he hasn’t even mentioned it.”
“You should still be prepared,” he says. “Any ideas who you might pick?”
“I-I don’t know,” I reply. “Most of the warlocks are too old or too young except for…”
“Except for?” he prompts.
“Kingston.”
Rowan doesn’t say anything for a few silent seconds, and then he explodes and jerks away from me. “Pick anyone but him, Harper! Pick all of them instead of him, I don’t care. But please, trust me on this.”
“What’s so wrong with him?” I ask since he’s been nothing but nice to me during our lessons. “We made a blood pact, so I think I can trust him.”
“In the end, he’s still just like his father, the one who is going to be in charge one day soon and continue to make all of our lives hell. He’s no different from the others.”
“Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
Rowan scoffs at that and rubs the back of his neck. “He’s already getting to you, manipulating you into thinking you can believe what he says because he wants to be the one to sire the most powerful witches and warlocks in hundreds of years!”
“Why would that be so bad?” I ask.
“Son of Satan’s bitch,” Rowan mutters. “You want him.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You didn’t have to. Your scent says it all whenever you think about him.”
“My scent?” I repeat in confusion.
“I can smell when you’re turned on. Hell, I could still smell the vampire’s come on your thighs. That’s where he finished, right?”
“Ah, yeah sort of…”
“You want Kingston. Why? Because of how he looks? As soon as you sleep with him, he’ll own you, Harp. And the vampire you’re screwing around with and I will be distant memories because the warlock won’t let you out of his sight once you’re knocked up with his kids.”
“I think you’re overreacting,” I say, wondering if part of the reason Rowan is flipping out about Kingston is because he is jealous.
“I’m serious, Harper. If you want to keep seeing me, then pick anyone else.”
“I don’t have to make a decision today or tomorrow,” I point out. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Fuck, you’re stubborn,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck like he’s still aggravated. “Just be careful and don’t make any more blood pacts with warlocks, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree because he sounds so angry.
“You should probably get back to the house and shower again to try and wash the vampire off of you.”
“You want me to leave already?” I say since I haven’t been here that long. “Are you mad at me?”
“No, fuck, of course not,” Rowan says when he pulls me to his chest and wraps his arms around me tightly. “I’m just worried about you and trying to think about the future,” he says while placing a kiss on the top of my head. “I didn’t think I could be jealous of any other males, but maybe I am if it means I lose out on any sort of future with you.”
“You won’t. I promise,” I tell him as I squeeze him back.
He lets me go but doesn’t say anything else, obviously waiting for me to leave. “Do you still want to see me tomorrow night?” I ask.
“Can’t,” he says, making my shoulders slump with disappointment. “Tomorrow’s Friday, and it’s the full moon.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you while in tiger form, but other guys will be patrolling in my place. We can’t risk them seeing us. But every night after that, darlin’,” he says, brushing his knuckles softly over my cheeks. “You don’t even have to ask me because it’s a given that I want to be with you.”
“Okay, good,” I tell him with a small smile before I turn around and start walking back to the house.
Only unlike every other night before, I’m not returning with the same happy, elated feeling. It has nothing to do with the fact that Rowan barely touched me and everything to do with the thought that things between us are not certain. They never have been and never will be because we’re not supposed to be together. I’m the only witch for dozens of warlocks, and Rowan is stuck working for the masters so that they won’t hurt the woman he was planning to marry.
It’s an impossible situation, and yet I want to find a way to make it possible.
Chapter 16
Kingston
I knew something was off as soon as I walked into my classroom Friday afternoon. Books had been moved, my chair wasn’t pushed all the way up to my desk, and stacks of papers on top of it had been shuffled.
Someone’s been snooping through my shit.
And of course my first thought is to pull out the key for the bottom drawer to see if they found my potions, including the one I just made two days ago and hid in there.
I can’t say I’m all that shocked to find it missing along with the others. I just wish I knew how the fuck they found out I had it.
“Did you use the witch’s blood to make these?” my father’s voice asks from behind me. I spin around to find him holding up all four of my potion bottles by their slender necks in his right hand, their individual labels giving away the contents.
Damn him! “Yes, and why the hell are you going through my shit?” I question him. Saying I used Harper’s blood is an easier explanation than the truth. Since he found them in my office, locked in my desk, I have to offer some sort of plausible explanation.
“Really?” he says in disbelief. “That’s strange.”
“Why is that strange? She’s a powerful witch,” I reply with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Because when I asked Harper yesterday how her potion lessons were going, she told me she had yet to activate a single one.” Eyeing the glass bottles he’s holding up, he adds, “And these are all glowing bright, so someone was powerful enough to make them. And since I know that you and the other warlocks shouldn’t be able to make them brighten for more than a few seconds, I want to know where the fuck they came from!”
“Fine. They’re mine.”
“Your blood?” he asks still sounding skeptical, his raised eyebrow saying as much.
“Well, it certainly isn’t yours, is it?” I taunt, inwardly pleased when his jaw ticks, giving away his indignation.
“How?” he asks with a glower.
“I guess I’m just a more powerful warlock than you are.”
“Bullshit!”
“I am, and I’ve been hiding it from you for years because I didn’t want to bruise your ego. Guess the secret’s out,” I seethe at him.
“That’s impossible. You were weak when you first came into your magic! You couldn’t have grown stronger unless you were with the witch, which I know for a fact you’ve failed to do even after all this time working with her in your ‘private’ lessons! You’re worthless!”
I try not to flinch at his insult, even though I’m growing angrier by the second because I am so tired of him thinking he’s so great and powerful. Lowering my arms to my sides, I stroll up to him confidently until we’re standing toe to toe, flaunting the fact that I’m several inches taller than him in his face. “Are you really that stupid?” I ask.
“I beg your pardon,” he scoffs.
“Come on, dad. You’re bound to have heard the rumors by now, and I’m tired of hiding it. I bet you’ve at least considered the prospect of powering up with one of the other masters once or
twice because you’re all so damn power hungry.”
His face and bald head instantly go from pale to red in a flash. In fact, I’m so busy waiting for what he’ll have to say about finding out I’m not only bisexual but benefiting from it that I don’t even notice his left arm moving until I feel the sharp, painful stab in the side of my neck.
“Ow! What the fuck?” I exclaim as I try to retreat, my fingers reaching up to feel my stinging skin when I finally see the empty syringe in his hand.
“We’ll kill two birds with one stone,” he says, but it sounds like he’s underwater and his words are deep and slurring. “This weekend you’re going to finally mate the witch before anyone knows you’ve gotten stronger and starts to question how exactly that happened. We will not have you encouraging sodomy, and it will not be tolerated here by anyone!”
“What?” I ask in confusion as the world begins to tilt to the side. I try to grab onto a desk to keep my balance, but it can’t withstand all my weight. The damn thing topples over to the side with me crashing down on top of it, jamming the edge into my ribs painfully.
The last thing I remember is the side of my face slamming against something hard before sleep takes me under.
A loud banging noise pulls me out of an awful dream. It’s not new but the same recurring one where my father pushes me off the ledge of a cliff and I keep falling but never hit the ground. I’m just flailing in the air and screaming my lungs out waiting for death to come for me.
I’m glad when the dream abruptly ends, but making my eyes open up takes more strength than ever before. I swear they weigh a hundred pounds each. Finally, I manage to creak one open just a slit and come face to face with a sleeping Harper. She’s on her side, facing me in her uniform, her head resting on a pillow, pink lips are parted, and her eyelids twitching as if she’s in a deep sleep. Whatever we’re lying on is soft and comfortable like a bed. My bed?
“Har-,” I try and say her name, but my mouth is so dry it’s barely a whisper. I wet my lips and try again. “Harper!”
If my eyes weigh a hundred pounds, then my arms are ten times as heavy when I attempt to lift one to put a hand on her shoulder and shake her, wanting to know what the fuck she’s doing sleeping in my bed. Not that I mind, I’m just curious as to how that shit happened.
She doesn’t budge.
And I can’t seem to remember…anything at the moment. I search through my memories, head pounding. Eventually, I recall waking up like usual Friday morning, having my normal classes, including two non-eventful ones with Harper. Then, I went to grab lunch before heading back to the classroom to grade the essays on the witch trials…
I don’t think I actually looked at anyone’s submissions though.
No, something distracted me. Someone.
My father.
That’s when it hits me. I had a heated conversation with him after he stole my shit and questioned me about how I activated the potions. Then he stabbed a syringe into my neck, and I fell down.
Rolling to my back, I glance around trying to figure out where we are. It’s not one of our dorm rooms, that’s for sure. The walls are gray cement with no windows, the only light is the one hanging above us. There’s a toilet bowl next to a sink in the corner and nothing else. No water, no food, and worst of all, no door.
We’re locked in a cell in the fucking dungeon.
The tingling in my limbs starts to subside, so I try to shake Harper awake again. All I accomplish is causing her to flop over on her back limply. That’s when I see two small puncture wounds on the side of her neck. If I had to guess, I bet they gave her more than whatever I was shot with to knock me out.
And she’s going to hate me for one of them.
“Harper,” I say again as I grab her bare upper arm. This time she finally gasps as if waking up or because of the warmth of my touch that’s probably magnified by the potion. Her head lolls to the side, and then she’s blinking her emerald eyes at me.
“King…Kingston?” she asks. “Why are you…why are you in here?”
She thinks I’m in her room, in her bed.
“Let me sleep just a little longer,” Harper says before I can respond, and her eyelids fall shut again. “So tired. And…hungry,” she mumbles.
Yeah, but I’m betting it’s not food she’s hungry for, she just doesn’t know it yet. And I’m not sure if she’ll ever forgive me. The longer we’re together, the more her attraction to me will grow until she can’t keep her hands off of me. And once we touch, it’ll make it nearly impossible for her to resist me. It was stupid of me to make the damn love potion in the first place. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to give it to her, but I was desperate and needed something to make me feel like I had a chance with her. Just a drop would’ve been enough to see if Harper would lower her inhibitions enough to see if she would make the first move. I wouldn’t have taken advantage of her then and I won’t now.
I let her have a few more peaceful minutes, watching her face as she sleeps. She’s so young and innocent. I shouldn’t want her, and yet I do, badly. Not for her power or to lay some warlock claim to her, like my father wants, but because she’s beautiful and sweet. She’s amazing, and I want her to belong to me and no one else. Not only that, I want to belong to her.
Harper cracks one eye open and catches me staring at her.
“Why are you looking at me?” she asks, sounding much more alert. “And why are you in my bed?”
“I’m looking at you because you’re gorgeous and sexy,” I tell her truthfully while letting my eyes lower to her breasts stressing the buttons on her white dress shirt and down to where her skirt barely covers a few inches of her long legs. “And we’re not in your bed.”
“So, I’m in yours?” she asks and then swivels her head around to take a look.
“No. Try not to panic, but we’re in the dungeon.”
“The dungeon!” she exclaims and tries to raise up on her elbows before her back hits the mattress again. “Why can’t I move?”
“It’s the drug they gave us. It must be some sort of a tranquilizer.”
“They drugged us? Who?” she asks, her head turned toward me, eyes wide in concern.
“My father,” I reply. “And I’m assuming he had help from the other masters since he couldn’t have dragged me down here on his own.”
“But why would they drug us?”
“A tranquilizer wasn’t all they gave you.”
“How do you know?” she asks.
“Because there’s a reason we’re locked in here together. My father and the masters are apparently tired of waiting and want us to…mate.”
Instead of looking appalled at the idea, Harper rolls her body toward mine and smiles shyly at me. She even reaches for the bottom of my dress shirt and starts pulling it out of my pants. That’s how I know she’s been given the potion because never before has she made a move to touch me. “Mating sounds fun,” she says as my shirt is freed and she starts working on undoing the buttons, although not very successfully thanks to the remaining effects of the tranquilizer. “Gah! Just take your clothes off already!” Harper exclaims.
I grab both her hands to pull them off of my clothes and she gasps again at the skin-to-skin contact. Her skin is hotter than I’ve ever felt it. And I would love to feel more of it, against my own heated flesh, but I can’t. Not like this.
“Harper listen to me,” I say as I keep ahold of her hands to prevent her from trying to undo my pants and break my willpower. “Are you listening?” I ask when her gaze locks on mine.
“Uh-huh. And your eyes are spectacular,” she says with a breathy sigh and her own glazed over with lust. “I could look into them forever.”
My chest seizes up at her words, wishing they were true. Maybe they are, but because of the potion, I’ll never know. “Ah, thanks,” I say. “But there’s a reason you’re giving me these compliments.”
“Yeah, because I love you,” she says simply.
The knot in my throat makes
it difficult to respond. I’d give anything to hear those words from her when she’s not under the influence and truly means them. “No, you don’t love me. I’m not even sure you really like me,” I tell her flatly. “You were given a love potion. One I made. So no matter how much you want to, you can’t touch me. I’m going to let your hands go, and then I need you to try to resist, okay?”
“Why would I want to resist?” she asks in confusion, brow furrowed. “I want you, and you love me.”
“I do care about you, which is why I’m not going to let you do this. The potion will wear off in about an hour. Until then, I’m going to go sit over there,” I say, pointing to the wall on the opposite side of the room.
I release Harper’s hands, and they immediately reach out to grab handfuls of my shirt and rip the top open, sending buttons flying through the air. “Stay,” she whispers, her eyes growing desperate.
“I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can,” Harper replies while still clutching my torn shirt in one fist and pressing her other palm to my bare chest. The scorching heat it causes makes me shiver and has my dick so swollen and hard that I almost cave. Almost.
Instead, I scramble off the bed, letting her pull the shirt off of me before I land on the floor and crawl over to the wall where I throw my back against it. I promise myself I won’t move again until she hates me.
“Aww, come back,” she whines with her lip pouting.
“No, and you need to stay right there!” I shout at her as I press my palm to the front of my pants to adjust my erection and try to wrangle it into submission. “Promise me, Harper, that you won’t move off the bed!”
“Why not?” she asks sadly.
“B-because the floor is lava,” I make up the first idiotic lie that comes to me. Another element of the potions is greatly reduced reasoning, causing the user to be more susceptible to the maker’s influence, unable to deny me anything. “I have an immunity to it, but you don’t. The floor will burn you.”
“You’re lying,” she says with a scoff.