Magic Academy (A Fantasy New Adult Romance)

by Jillian Keep

  “The summoning process takes a lot from me,” he said, tying the robe shut. Though even as he spoke she could see the cloth shifting, the fabric changing shape, becoming something more exotic. Foreign. It hung open at his chest, showing some of his shoulders, the cuffs billowed out around his wrists and on down she could see it slit open up towards his groin, stopping before displaying anything lewd. And his feet… he had feet now too, she noticed. No longer cloven-hoofed.

  She was rendered speechless. Where she had grown so confident and commanding to the demon, she was struck mute in front of the attractive man that had “replaced” him. Her lips hung open and she forced them shut, inhaling deeply.

  What had he said? She knew he’d spoken, but she hadn’t heard a word of it.

  The dashing man pulled his hair from beneath the collar of the robe, and let it fall back down to settle around his neck and shoulders, which were so much more slender now comparatively, that he looked to be about her age. It also drew attention to the fact that he still bore horns, but much smaller, and now swept back instead of spiralling high. They blended with his hair rather well.

  “Would you tell me your name, madam sorceress?” he asked with every pretense of cordiality upon his charming voice. He sounded—and looked—like a foreign prince. A foreign prince in a lavish bath robe, perhaps, but nonetheless.

  For a moment it seemed she’d forgotten her name. It was on the tip of her tongue but she was too flabbergasted to fully recall it.

  Her tongue worked over her lips until finally it came to her.

  “Firia,” she whispered.

  “Firia,” he repeated in that curiously accented voice. He leaned forward and took one of her hands, lifting it as if it were made of delicate porcelain, then bent forward and kissed the back of her knuckles. “It is a pleasure to have been summoned by so beauteous a conjurer, Firia.” He smiled to her, his ruby eyes glinting as they met her gaze. “I am Varuj,” and the name rolled off his tongue so appetizingly, as if—she imagined—it would taste delicious to merely say. “At your service.”

  She actually thought she might faint. She willed herself to remember that he was still the vile demon that was pleasuring himself moments ago, just to make her uncomfortable, but it was so hard to think. He was too handsome for words, and she shifted from foot to foot as his skin touched hers.

  “How did you change? You shouldn’t be able to.”

  “It is no worry,” he said again as if merely a foreigner with an enchanting accent and a curious grasp on her language, rather than a demon from some dimension of damnation. “I know many things. Many tricks. Many spells,” he said with a smile, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “Things that even the wizards of your world do not.”

  “Teach me them.”

  Her blue eyes widened in shock, astounded that she’d been able to speak, and with such a commanding tone. Her need for that power, those magics he knew had even outweighed her nervousness of being around him.

  And that somehow made her more nervous.

  His smile lit up his handsome face, and he kissed the back of her hand again. “I can do that,” he said at last. “In less time than the teachers of your world could instruct you, too.” And that was what mattered most, wasn’t it? For as she was reminded so often, a human’s life was not long enough to learn such power. And she’d already lost so much of it on the outside, looking in.

  Her head nodded, and suddenly she was hit with the more pressing concerns. Where will he stay? Perhaps she hadn’t as much confidence in her skills as she believed, for she certainly hadn’t thought so far ahead. Yet he’d made it easier and harder on her all at once.

  Her father would never let him stay with them.

  She’d envisioned it so differently, her stomping into the Dean’s office and demanding fair treatment.

  Now she wanted something more.

  The beautiful man before her continued to smile and rub her hand. “There is something you must understand first and foremost, madam Firia,” he said in his deep, smooth voice. “You cannot expose my existence to anyone. Not the teachers you wished to impress, not loved ones. No one.”

  “How am I going to explain you? How will I get ahead?” Her voice was so small and meek compared to the accomplished and commanding woman who had summoned him.

  “You can’t explain me,” he said simply, not losing that charm or smile. “Not yet, Firia.” He brought his free hand up to her face, cupped her cheek gently. “You can hide me, if you let me show you how. And when you are able to sneak away, I will teach you. Better than any tutor of your world ever could.”

  It was creeping her out just how much she wanted that. How much she longed for that.

  She hadn’t realized just how lonely and isolated she had let herself become. Her shyness around men her own age had led to her hiding in libraries, and she’d never even seen one so good-looking as him.

  It’s an illusion, she reminded herself, but that only made her remember the sight of him stroking that horrifying organ and her breath hitched.

  He leaned in close, so that their foreheads nearly touched. “I will be your secret,” he said quietly. “Yours and yours alone.” His palm cupped her cheek and his fingers moved through her hair delicately. “And after time training together in our secret moments,” gods, he made that sound so tantalizing, despite knowing his true form, “you shall be an unmatched sorceress. Not even those who have trained and practiced for centuries will rival you, Firia.”

  “Why?”

  The word toppled from her tongue, and she scolded herself. Because she bound him to her. Because he belongs to her.

  Yet someone so gorgeous could never belong to her, could never be so tender with her as he was trying to play at.

  He was a beautiful monster, and it was making her feelings become conflicted. She swallowed and looked at him with those expressive, blue eyes. “You are my thrall.” She answered her own question.

  His beautiful, almond-shaped eyes hardened just a little, then softened in sadness. “That is a cruel thing to say,” he said in a hurt voice.

  In the blink of an eye, things changed.

  He was the same, but he had faded out of reality in his position and now stood at the opposite side of the room, before the window, the moonlight framing his figure.

  “The truth is never cruel,” she managed to sputter out, even in her shock. “It just is.”

  He sat back on the windowsill and curled his legs up with him, wrapping his arms about them. The moon glimmered off his dark hair, and shimmered upon his smooth skin, all the way down to where his robe began at the edge of his shoulders. “Even a bound one does not need to obey all,” he said simply, that tinge of hurt still in his voice. “You could tell a bound one to perform an action like… attack a foe. But you could not command him to betray his secrets. No conjurer is that powerful a master.”

  She knew, logically, what he was. A cunning manipulator, a demon from a hellish place. Yet that wasn’t how he seemed, and it was so hard to argue with what she saw. He looked so hurt, and she was the one who had done it.

  She took a step forward, folding her arms defensively beneath her petite bust, but she didn’t know what to say. She was at a loss for words.

  Varuj looked aside, the silhouette of his handsome face outlined by silvery moonlight. “I would not share my secrets with a master. Only a companion,” he said almost pouty, in defiance of her attempt to cow him.

  “I know what you are,” she said softly, but she tightened her arms to stop her hands from trembling. It was taking so much out of her just to not run to him, apologizing.

  “You’re trying to manipulate me into caring for you.”

  He sighed. “All I ask is that you treat me as equal,” he said so simply. “Is grinding me beneath your boot heel all you can think of? So much so that it blinds you to opportunity?” He rested his head upon his knees. All she could see of him was his glossy black hair rested atop his arms and knees. “Fine,” he
said with some resignation. “I will teach you something… but just one thing. And if, after that, you do not care to treat me as something other than a slave… no more.”

  Her throat was so dry and she took another step towards him, taken in by his good looks and sullen exterior. “How can I trust you when you are acting like this?”

  Slowly, he lifted his head and rested his chin upon his arms to gaze back at her. The fire had ebbed from his ruby eyes somewhat. “Like what? I sacrificed my mighty form so that I might be more pleasing and less disconcerting to you. It was no easy feat. Nor a small sacrifice. I am weaker like this,” he explained calmly. “Though it is the only way I could hope to converse with you.”

  “You can’t change back when you feel like it?” That actually surprised her, and though she was smart enough to know he was trying to manipulate her, it didn’t occur to her that he would outright lie. Though she’d always been someone craving power and knowledge, she was always open and honest with others as much as she could be.

  Except when it threatened her quest for things greater than herself.

  “It is not so simple,” he said with a sigh of exasperation. He stood, though, and approached her with slow, languid motions. “Shall I teach you then? Do we have a deal or no? If you only care to expose me to your elvish wizards then spare me the trouble and banish me now. They will only punish you for stealing a tome of dark secrets, and do terrible things to me before expunging me from this plane of existence. Such an outcome would be tedious and painful for us both.”

  “They wouldn’t,” she gasped, but somehow she knew it was more likely than them praising her for her cunning. For her success. Her eyes began to fill with tears and she knew she was in far over her head.

  Her lower lip trembled as she begged herself not to cry in front of the gorgeous demon, but she couldn’t help as the first tear escaped and ran down her peachy cheek.

  “I would prefer to stay in your world,” he said, and he reached out, touching her arms with his hands, “with you.” He was so tender, so careful as he leaned in and spoke to her softly. “I said I will teach you a spell. A secret. And all I ask in return is that you keep me hidden.”

  “Why would you possibly prefer it here? You said I took you away from your home.” It was hard to speak while holding in the sobs, but she managed and swallowed the lump in her throat.

  He slowly slid his hands along her arms towards her back, gradually embracing her. “My realm is cruel and harsh,” he said softly. “Great suffering abounds. But here?” he said, leaning in so that his cheek hovered near to hers. “There is softness and opportunity for things unheard of in my plane of existence.”

  What was he doing to her?

  She gasped, and for a moment wondered if he had her under a spell of some kind. She felt her body soften to his and she wanted nothing more than his embrace. His affection.

  She didn’t want him to go either, and she knew it wasn’t magic. It was loneliness. Longing.

  “Okay.”

  It wasn’t passionate, but he held her tenderly, his arms squeezing her only lightly as their cheeks touched. “Open your heart to me,” he murmured into her ear. “Do not hide behind your defenses.” The light tickle of his smooth voice on her ear was so tantalizing. “I will slip inside you,” he said, his voice as rich as caramel, as soft as satin. “And you will hide me within your heart from the gaze of those who would seek to do us harm.”

  She didn’t know what it meant, but it sounded so sexual.

  Strangely, however, it felt… welcomed. She wanted him to long for her. For so many years she’d thought of herself as someone unlovable, but he was being so affectionate. He felt so warm.

  It was her isolation, her neediness that made her nod against his cheek, her soft skin brushing against his.

  His lips touched just beneath her ear only tentatively, “Thank you,” he said, and his warm body pressed to hers as he squeezed her form. It was such a careful, loving embrace, and it shifted and felt so bizarre. So different.

  Was this what it was like to feel for someone? To have them touch at you physically and emotionally?

  Though as he held her, the intensity of it grew. Without him moving, she could feel something strange, as if he was bleeding over into her very body. Tendrils of his existence—his soul?—trying to find its way inside of her. Not her body so much as her own soul: that hidden, inner beacon of light.

  Where hers was pure and wholesome, however, she could feel his was dark and… different. It wasn’t like hers. But it wanted in. It wanted to mingle with her essence. That much was pure and true. She felt it.

  A tear streamed down her face and her hands clenched.

  This couldn’t be right. He was going to do something wrong, he was going to betray her.

  Yet it didn’t feel wrong. Not really. There was some piece of him that felt so… so like her. So similar to her own soul.

  She wanted to scream but she bit it back, tugging her lower lip into her mouth.

  The walls within her came down, and with a bizarre awareness, she realized he was no longer there. Not physically.

  He no longer held her in his arms, for he no longer existed in a physical sense before her at all. Though at the same time, she felt his presence more than ever, for he lingered within her.

  Like when she cast that summoning, the tingle of power tickled her skin, and warmed her blood. Though it grew gentle with time as he settled into her being.

  His voice travelled to her from within her own being, not needing words anymore. You are not alone, he said.

  She swiped at her eyes as if trying to be strong and hide her tears at his words. He was speaking to the deepest and most hidden part of her and she felt so… exposed. It was horrible and wonderful all at once.

  Yet she missed his physical presence, and that confused and disgusted her. She shouldn’t feel so attracted to him, to a demon that had such a terrifying presence.

  Still, she missed the feeling of his hands around her.

  Instead she got the feeling of warmth that enveloped her very soul. An unnatural heat that filled her in ways she thought impossible. Like moments of her father’s love unrestrained, but more intimate.

  When the time comes, you will let me out and I will teach you, he said, his voice – which was not a voice at all, but a thought in her mind – so rich and soothing.

  There was no need, but she nodded as she looked towards the window. It felt like so much time had passed, but the sun was only beginning to rise, and it cast long shadows on the campus. She had a secret, so large and all encompassing, but she went to clean up the remains of the spell casting.

  It was strange how routine it was, and how new it felt, all at once. It was almost as if she were doing it with an old friend, someone who cared deeply about her.

  Chapter 2

  Firia had slept deep the whole morning through. For once in a very long time it was her father that woke her up with a knock on her door. “Honey?” came his deep voice. “Are you okay?”

  For years now, she’d awoken before him, began the day with preparing breakfast before heading off to her classes. Though her classes had all but ended, it wasn’t that which had interfered with her normal routine.

  “Y-yeah dad,” she said groggily, face down upon the bed, her blankets twisted about her form. “I’ll be right out.”

  She could hear her father shuffle off, wearily starting his day after another long night of work. Though her mind lingered on other things.

  Her whole night was filled with vivid dreams. Curious events of her past, sometimes traumatic, often mundane. She saw herself at her desk in school, shoved to the back with the other humans. Instead of feeling so alone and ignored, however, she felt comforted by a presence. Someone always off to the corner of her vision, but whom she was no less aware of.

  She saw herself at her mother’s funeral, when her father couldn’t bring himself to comfort her. It was one of her worst memories, facing that tragedy alone, s
o young. Just reflecting on it was enough to make her eyes water, though in the dream she was not alone.

  Thick, strong arms wrapped about her, pulled her to a warm chest and cradled her against her misery.

  Then there were moments of joy. The lonely moments of happiness, like when she was in the forest and watched two foxes fight over her cloth-wrapped lunch, thinking it prey, only for their struggle to cause the contents to spill out into the stream below, where one desperate fox – then the next – dove in after it, only to come out with a half of her sandwich each, looking like scrawny rats.

  She’d laughed then, though at the time it was tinged with mournful loneliness. In her dream, the laughter was shared by that presence, and it no longer held the sting.

  For so long she’d pushed all those things aside, hidden under the layers of protection. Even happy memories had been tinged with melancholy and she’d kept herself focused on the future. The bright, wonderful future where people wouldn’t treat her like a mousy reject.

  They’d know she was someone worth paying attention to.

  Yet the past had no such occurrences, and she swiped at the tears she knew were begging to come out. It almost felt like it had all been a dream. Not just the unpleasant drudging up of painful memories, but the demon.

  Self-doubt still lingered in her subconscious that she could do such a thing, and as she got ready for the day, she wondered if she was simply going mad with loneliness.

  As she pulled up her skirt, she felt that slight tingle of a presence again, and when she arose to stand up before her mirror she saw… him. His beautiful black hair, so sleek and shiny in the morning sun, those ruby eyes alight with a soft smile as he stood behind her.

  He lifted his hands and put them upon her shoulders as he kissed the back of her head. She felt it too! It was real! Though when she spun around to see him… nothing. He was gone. Nothing remained to hint it was ever real and more than a delusion.

  She went out into their kitchen to find her father preparing a meal for them both. Her dad was a fairly tall man, dark hair, tousled by sleep, with a thick, groomed beard. He flashed her a warm smile as she approached, despite his own weariness. “Up late reading again?” he asked.