Of Fate and Fortune: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Arcane Arts Academy Book 4)

by Elena Lawson

  I raised my brows at that but said nothing. Cal leaned forward to whisper. “He’s just grumpy—ignore him.” His breathy voice tickled my cheek and elicited a shiver from my body I knew he didn’t miss. I remembered how he’d kissed me the night before and my stomach clenched. Warmth pooling at the memory.

  Cal grinned in approval at my response before my attention was stolen back by Draven tightening his grip on my arm.

  “Passports and boarding passes,” the stewardess said as we approached the little booth to the left of the gate door.

  I passed mine to her and Draven handed his over as well.

  “Thank you, Mr. Ravenswood, Miss. Hawkins. Welcome aboard.”

  I must have made a face at the name, forgetting for a second that David Ravenswood was the name on Draven’s passport because he pinched me and pulled me along down the walkway. “Come now, Miss. Hawkins,” he said pointedly, and I shook my head at him.

  It seemed to take forever for the flight to board. But the seats up front where we were sitting all in a row looked a hell of a lot more comfortable than the ones in the back so I couldn’t really complain. I was sitting next to the window and Draven was next to me in the aisle seat. Across the walkway from us were Cal and Adrian—with Cal in the window seat and Adrian gripping the armrests—eyes forward and back erect in the aisle seat.

  I didn’t think we’d be flying together again any time soon. But then again, I supposed there would be no need in the future. Once I’d been to La Casa Rosa once I would be able to portal us there whenever I wanted. And I here Europe has a really impressive rail system. We could take the train anywhere else we wanted or needed to go from Spain until I could portal to those places, too.

  The prospect of being able to portal to all these different places in the world brought me the same sort of joy the little girl who was waiting to board with us had at the amount of stamps she had in her passport. But in my case, getting each stamp would be much more valuable. I could jump through a portal to anywhere in the world if I got enough of them.

  It was beyond exciting to imagine and made me want to keep going after La Casa Rosa. Down to Morocco or up to Italy. Never look back.

  Too bad it was instilled in my from a very young age to keep my promises—thanks Leo and Lara…

  The stewardess had just finished showing the passengers what to do in the case of an emergency. When she got to the part about the breathing masks and using your seat as a flotation device in case of a crash, I thought Adrian was going to pass out.

  He was entirely too white.

  “I don’t think he’s going to make it,” I whispered in an almost non-existent voice to Draven—not wanting Adrian to hear me.

  I was nervous, too. Really nervous actually…but my need to ensure Adrian was alright outweighed my own insecurities. He looks so uncomfortable it made my own skin crawl.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” I said flagging down the stewardess when the demonstration was through. “Could you please get my friend a drink—something strong? Maybe whiskey if you have it.”

  “I’m sorry ma’am but we won’t be serving drinks until after take-off. We’re just clearing the cabin for—”

  Draven circled his hand around the pretty stewardess’ slim wrist and stared into her heavily shadowed eyes. Her red-stained lips went slack as her gaze fell on him. “Get the man a drink, will you, love? Make it a double. Quick now—no time to waste.”

  He released her and she all but raced to the head of the plane where we could hear her rummaging through some unseen compartment.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” I chided him. I wasn’t sure why, but I always hated the idea of compulsion. It repulsed me. The fact that Vocari could take away your free will just like that and you would be none the wiser made me almost ill.

  “Got what he needed, didn’t I?”

  Draven shrugged and grinned widely at the stewardess as she returned with a brimming cup of amber liquid and handed it to Adrian who took it and gave Draven a tight nod of thanks as he began gulping it down. The tension in his hands released a little, the white around his knuckles returning to a more natural color.

  Adrian slumped back in his seat and took an unrestricted breath.

  Puckering my lips in distaste, I forced the two words out of my mouth. “Thank you,” I told him, meaning it even though I didn’t like his methods one bit. But then again, it wasn’t as if he’d hurt anyone. He only had the stewardess bend the rules a little.

  “Another for my friend here,” Draven said, stalling the stewardess in her retreat back to the front of the cabin.

  She turned and gave him a pleasant smile. “Right away, Mr. Ravenswood.”

  “What are you doing?” I hissed. Compelling the woman to help Adrian was one thing—compelling her for sport was quite another.

  Draven turned to me with one thick brow quirked over his bright blue eyes. “If your heart were beating any faster, it would hammer it’s way right out of your chest.”

  His left fist clenched slightly against the hand rest and I realized with a start that he wasn’t breathing—like, at all.

  “It’s driving me mad,” he explained with a clenched jaw and I saw the strain in his gaze as his nostrils flared.

  Oops.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. The way he was looking at me—lustful and hungry—pained—made my toes curl and my chest heat. I took a long breath to equalize myself, but it hardly helped.

  Fuck, why does he have to be so infuriatingly hot?

  “I admire your desire to aid your friend, love, but while you’ve been busy worrying about him—you’ve not worried near enough about yourself.”

  What?

  I must have been giving him a strange look because he rolled his eyes at me. “You must me just as nervous as he is about flying or even more so—but you’ve been very good at hiding it. If it weren’t for my own keen senses, I wouldn’t even have noticed.”

  It was then that the stewardess returned with a second glass filled with whiskey and passed it over Draven’s lap to me. I took it with a whispered thanks as the captain’s voice came over the intercom to tell the stewardess’ to be seated for take-off.

  My stomach dropped and Adrian crushed the little plastic cup in his fist.

  I took a long gulp of the whiskey and grimaced, wincing at the acrid flavor. Ugh. It wasn’t even close to being as good as what my father had kept in his stores.

  I glanced over at Adrian as the plane pulled out of where it was parked next to the gate and began a slow crawl toward the runway. He had his eyes firmly closed and his chest was rising and falling in quick, short movements.

  He should have told me he was this nervous. I never would have made him come on the plane. We’d have found another way.

  Draven leaned into my side, blocking Adrian from my view. His rose and smoke scent covered me like a down duvet and I stilled.

  “I could compel him,” he offered.

  “No.”

  “He wouldn’t ever have to know that I did…”

  “No.”

  “He would just believe that he fell asleep and—”

  “Draven.”

  “It’s David, remember.”

  “Do it.” Adrian’s terse voice spoken through clenched teeth silenced both of us and Draven moved so we could both look at him. His golden eyes were bloodshot and though the whiskey had brought a little more color to his cheeks, he was still white as a ghost and green around the gills.

  Cal seemed entirely unbothered by the whole situation and was watching out the window as we pulled onto the runway. “If you’re going to do it, I’d do it now,” he said, his tone a bit annoyed if anything. “We’re about to—”

  The plane launched forward, gaining speed so fast I was almost sucked back into my seat. Adrian’s eyes went wide.

  “Now,” he breathed and turned to face Draven with wide-eyed horror.

  Oh, my poor Adrian…

  I felt like my stomach was
in my toes and the butterflies in my stomach were growing restless as I felt the plane’s front wheels come up off the ground. I saw the people in the seats behind ours were chatting as though entirely unbothered—but with all the ambient noise, I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I hoped they couldn’t hear us, either…

  Draven leaned into the aisle and gripped Adrian by his collar, I couldn’t hear what he said over the rushing of blood in my ears and the pressure of the air in the cabin. But when he let go of Adrian, my familiar’s body sagged with relief and I watched as he leaned his head gently back against the headrest and his eyes fluttered closed.

  “Thanks, man,” Cal said in a loud voice over all the rushing sounds. “I was about to knock him out—your way was much easier.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to laugh at what he said because just then the plane left the ground and tilted to one side—then the other—as the metal beast leveled out in the air.

  Once the pilot got the aircraft steady and my ears were finished popping and aching, I relaxed a little, almost wanting to laugh after the rush of adrenaline began to wear off. When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find three things…

  That somehow without even noticing I’d done it—I’d grabbing onto Draven’s hand.

  That he—whether just to oblige me or not—was holding my hand back, our fingered knotted together.

  And that Cal wasn’t looking out the window as the world fell away below, he was watching us—his gaze fused to where our hands were joined—a crease in his forehead and his lips sealed in a firm line.

  9

  Landing was somehow less terrifying than taking off. Other than the slight jump of the aircraft when we first hit the runway that made my heart jump and skitter into an irregular rhythm, it wasn’t so bad at all.

  Adrian had awoken when Draven snapped his fingers and he blinked groggily a few times before he remembered where he was and looked out the little oval-shaped window to see we were back on the ground. “Alright,” he said with a half-grin. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  I shook my head at him—eyes to the heavens. What was I going to do with these three?

  “What?” he asked as he unbuckled his seat belt.

  But I just shook my head again. “Nothing,” I replied, unable to keep the smirk from my face.

  The whole flight was only a couple hours, but it felt a lot longer. Draven flipped through the pages of my father’s journal, making little notes on a napkin as he did. I tried a couple of times to ask him what he was doing—or if he’d found anything interesting—but it was like my ears were full of cotton and I could hardly hear his whispered responses so after a couple tries I gave up.

  He would have to almost yell if I was to be able to hear him, and if he did that, we would be spilling immortal secrets to all the people aboard the plane. Instead, I opted for silence and watching the dark clouds as we passed through them in the night sky. It was so beautiful I barely wanted to tear my eyes away, anyway.

  It didn’t take long to get from Ireland to Spain—longer than taking a portal would’ve—but even the mortal way took only a little over two hours. Not bad at all.

  “How long will it take to get to the villa?” Draven asked when we finally stepped out of the relatively quiet airport, looking up at the sky. We still had at least several hours until the sunrise would so much as begin to stain it pink with the light of the new day. But I could tell being without certain shelter nearby made him twitchy.

  “Not long,” I told him and then lowered my voice so the squat limo driver with the sideburns and balding dark hair wouldn’t hear me. “I made sure the limo’s windows were heavily tinted—it should be safe even if something happened that we didn’t get there in time for sunup.”

  “‘should be’ and ‘will be’ are two very different things,” he said, terse, but then relaxed into a sigh as the driver took his leather travel bag. “But thank you. I appreciate that you took the time to—”

  “Damn,” Adrian crooned, back to his old self. “Would you look at that thing?” I turned to find Adrian wide-eyed admiring the sleek black limousine. Cal looked equally impressed, though there was an undercurrent to his look that told me he didn’t fully approve. Perhaps I should’ve rented a few motorcycles. I bet he would’ve preferred that.

  The limo driver finished with our bags and opened the door for us. The guys piled into the back. First Adrian, then Cal, then Draven. I paused before entering, asking the driver in a low voice. “Will you have any trouble finding the house with the coordinates I gave?”

  “No, Miss. Hawkins. I’ve already selected a route and will have you to your house within a few hours at most.”

  His accent was strong, but I managed to understand him despite it.

  “There will be a large tip if you can get us there before sunrise.”

  His brows twitched upward at my forwardness, but he said nothing, only nodded before I folded myself into the cab and he shut the door behind me.

  “Wow,” I breathed as my eyes adjusted to the soft interior lighting.

  The limo was so grandiose it was hedging on being ridiculous. There were blue lights in strips along a plush carpeted floor. Matching lighting was inlaid into the ceiling in such a way that it looked as though there was an inverted chandelier inside the vehicle. The seats were long and plump beneath their soft-leather casings.

  And on the endcap of one side there was what looked to be a refrigerator and above that a store of champagne flutes and more of the bluish lights. Soft music spilled into the narrow space—Sinatra, if I wasn’t mistaken.

  One look at all the guys, meeting each of their gazes in turn and I couldn’t help myself—I burst into a fit of giggles at the insanity of my change in circumstance. And at the luxuriousness I knew I would never grow accustomed to.

  I could imagine the limo service’s regular clientele—stepping into the beast of a vehicle with their posh noses turned up. They’d probably complain about the smell—which was a pleasant citrus scent—claiming they were sensitive to aromas when they themselves reeked of eight-hundred-dollar perfume.

  Cal and Adrian joined me in my laughter, and I wondered offhandedly if the driver could hear us back here with the visor rolled up. Then I realized I didn’t care.

  It was Draven who reached into the fridge for a bottle of champagne, unable to contain his own grin as the rest of us laughed. “Might as well have some,” he said as the cork popped free with a loud thunk and bubbles spilled over onto a spot of carpet.

  Draven poured me a flute of it as my giggling began to subside. “Congratulations on completing your first year at the academy.”

  “You mean surviving it?” I asked, only half joking.

  Draven handed Cal and Adrian their glasses too, and poured one for himself.

  “To Harper,” Cal said, and I picked up on the seriousness in the way he said it, his heavy gaze settling on me in a way that made me quiver on the inside.

  “To Harper,” both Draven and Adrian echoed. Adrian giving me a sly wink that made heat sizzle into my cheeks.

  I raised my glass for the toast. “And to you,” I added, mentally including Elias and everyone else I wished I could be toasting with in my mind. “To us!”

  “To us!”

  10

  Cal was snoring softly when the limo finally came to a stop a little over two hours later. He’d taken up an entire row of seating, leaving the rest of us to cram onto one side. I was laying in Adrian’s lap, and he was stroking my hair languidly, still sipping on the second bottle of champagne we opened the hour before. Draven looked a bit uncomfortable as the hours drew nearer to dawn, but I was certain there was still a good amount of time before he was in any danger.

  Then again, I supposed someone as old as Draven didn’t live as long as he had by taking a lot of risks.

  The visor rolled down and Cal shot up out of his seat, smashing his head on the curved part of the ceiling. I winced for him. “Good morning, sunshine,” I said to him as
he rubbed the sore spot on the side of his temple.

  He groaned.

  “Miss, we’ve arrived at your destination. There seems to be a locked gate ahead and I don’t see any intercom. Do you have a key?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “Um…no. I mean, you can just let us off here. I may have to dig for it.”

  A lie. But I didn’t want this man to know that I’d never been here before and didn’t even have a key to get into the place. I hadn’t even thought to look for one before we left Rosewood Abbey. I didn’t want this guy thinking we were breaking in or some other unsavory things.

  I was certain we could find a way in. I just wanted this guy to leave before I had to cast a spell to release the lock.

  “Are you certain, Miss? I could—”

  “Yes. Here is fine,” I interrupted. “Thank you.”

  The visor rolled back up and within a few moments, I heard him unpacking our luggage and then the door opened.

  I moved to get up from the seat when Draven grabbed hold of my arm. “Shall I compel him to forget about this place?”

  I scrunched my brows at him, confused for a moment before what he said sank in. No one knew where this place was outside of my family and Martin, who were all dead now. They’d wanted to keep it that way.

  Grimacing, I nodded. I couldn’t be certain the limo driver wouldn’t go blabbing about the villa he took a client to in the middle of nowhere. We couldn’t have mortals poking around. What if my father kept witchy things inside—out in the open?

  If the driver could see the gate and the house beyond—it meant the place wasn’t warded anymore, either. Which was not good…

  Draven released me and I stepped out and onto a dirt and gravel drive. The air outside smelled of sea-breeze, sweet oranges and something smoky with an undercurrent of freshness that came from being surrounded with trees and lush, vibrant green growth.

  The sky had begun to lighten, but only slightly. The dark colors leeching away to make a sort of faded navy. Like the worn spots on a pair of old dark jeans.