Ravenhold: Magic Forged: A Dark Academy Romance (Ravenhold Supernatural Reform Academy Book 2)

by LJ Swallow

  The desire roars to deafen me against everything but the sound of my heart beating in my ears, and Dorian breaks away. His lips remain on my neck for a few seconds before he moves to kiss my cheek with a shaky breath.

  “Yeah, I want to fuck you too, but not in a room with a dead witch.”

  The dizziness lifts as his blunt words slap me back to reality. “And we need to get the hell off my parents’ estate.”

  “Yeah. That too.”

  Dorian steps back, and even though he releases me I feel him inside me, as if taking my blood injected a part of himself. A new energy surges through my veins, stronger than any spell energy I’ve felt before. Not only that, but physically, I feel stronger. Dorian’s eyes shine with a greater luminescence than usual and he slowly licks my blood from his lips.

  “Can you use the spell that took us from Ravenhold?” I ask Dorian.

  He grimaces. “I don’t think we have time. I’m not great at drawing runes, either.”

  “Oh,” I breathe out in disappointment. Don’t fail me now. “Let me try.”

  Along the hallway outside, someone calls my name and I jerk to alert.

  “Not yet.” Dorian walks to the window and yanks it upwards.

  “Then how do—"

  “Don’t scream,” he says as he turns and seizes hold of me.

  “What do—"

  I need to clamp my mouth shut to stop the screams as Dorian gathers me in his arms and leaps the two storeys to the ground. He lands without stumbling and I stagger inelegantly as he releases me and darts a look round.

  “Eloise, run.”

  The last time I heard those words I was scared, weak, and confused, but as I set off to sprint after Dorian, I’ve more energy in my legs than any time before, running with an ease to match his.

  I never took Dorian’s blood, so why am I mirroring some of his vampire traits?

  We run towards the rear of the estate, away from the cars parked and ready for my family’s arrangements to leave. A fence surrounds the property edge, and we scale the chain metal, then hop over, before running towards the country road that winds through the fields.

  “There’s a town a few miles that way,” I say and point to where the road dips.

  “I think we’ll need to get further than that,” he says.

  I’m still coursing with the effects of Dorian taking my blood and his eyes still shine the same way. Neither of us speak before our mouths meet again in another blinding, bruising kiss.

  What the hell do we do now and where do we go?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ELOISE

  Dorian wears black, which makes hiding the blood stains easier. Is this the reason Dorian favours clothes that colour? I stand by the small stream and watch as he crouches down and washes blood from his hands and face. There’s something hot about his glistening skin when he stands and turns back to me and I moisten my lips.

  Dorian doesn’t pay attention and I blink as the space he stands in empties in a blur. I spin a full circle, scared that a Blackwood located us, but a few seconds later Dorian thuds to the ground as he agilely leaps from a tree.

  “I wish I’d memorised those fucking runes,” he grumbles. “Your family lives in the middle of bloody nowhere.”

  Dorian drags me into a small tree copse set back from the road that leads to the town. He delves his hand into a pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.

  “Can you draw these runes?”

  A set I recognise are written in black on the sheet with a few lines of an incantation beneath—the runes that Ivan used in Ravenhold.

  “Can’t you draw them?” I ask.

  “No. My witch side was never encouraged nor taught.” He snorts. “If the fuckers had shown me blood magic, they’d be screwed.”

  “And now you know blood magic,” I say in quiet horror.

  His teeth gleam as he smiles. “Precisely. They’re screwed. The fun has just begun.”

  Fun?

  “I have so many plans for the future, Eloise. Now I have you too.” His hand cups my cheek again and with the desire for his touch comes the old fear over what Dorian is capable of. Now, he has magic to empower him.

  “If I choose,” I warn him.

  “Sheesh. I saved your life, Eloise. Show a little gratitude.”

  I grit my teeth. “And you show a little less attitude.”

  Dorian’s laugh bounces off the trees. “Can you copy the runes or not?”

  The runes aren’t complicated, but any shape used in a spell must be totally accurate to prevent the spell misfiring. And if this is Blackwood magic, a misfire would have worrying consequences.

  “What should I use to draw—" I pause at the sight of Dorian dragging his sharp teeth across his fingers.

  “Use me as a pen.” Omigod. My stomach churns but I’ve seen so much blood today, I’m becoming desensitised.

  Dorian crouches beside me and I mark runes on small rocks we find on the ground before arranging them in a circle. My hand shakes as I do, and I attempt to pretend this isn’t macabre finger-painting.

  As I complete the last rune and place it in the circle, Dorian sucks on his fingers with shining eyes. “I decide where to go.” He nods at the runes. “Don’t picture a location when I use the spell; I only want one to go to one place.”

  “This is the spell Ivan used to leave Ravenhold,” I say, my dumb, dulled brain finally catching up. “Which means you need...”

  “More of your blood.”

  “Wow, maybe leave me some?” I say with a light laugh, which ceases as he snatches my hand and draws his teeth across my palm, reopening the cut from yesterday.

  My eyes water and I clench my jaw against crying out. Doing the same to himself, Dorian then places his palm onto the dirty ground and pulls mine over to do the same. His hair flops into his eyes as he half-mumbles the incantation written beneath the runes.

  “Where are you taking us?” I ask weakly as the darkness roars towards me.

  I don’t hear Dorian’s answer before I black out.

  I regain consciousness on the floor beside Dorian, who immediately stands as if he stepped into the room, not flung through the world. The familiar grin spreads across his triumphant face before he sinks into a leather sofa.

  The high-ceilinged room is open plan; a huge flatscreen TV faces the chair Dorian sits in, and a mezzanine is suspended on oak beams with a small spiral staircase leading upwards. Towards the back of the room, floor-length glass doors look out onto a lawned garden.

  “Whose house is this?” I ask cautiously and strain to hear anything around us. Nothing.

  “Mine. Sort of.” Dorian watches as I manage to stand while holding fingers over my bleeding palm. “Here.”

  Dorian moves from the chair and takes my palm before pressing his mouth against the wound, and the sudden touch from his soft lips sends the same delicious tingle as when he took my blood. He inspects my palm and strokes the wound. “That should heal quick now. Hemia saliva. That’s why your neck isn’t bleeding anymore.” He chuckles at my confusion. “Do you know much about vampires?”

  “Oh. A little,” I admit. “My family kept away from them.”

  “Luckily for me, you’re breaking that family tradition.” Dorian disappears into another room and I move to a nearby window. There’s nothing around, apart from trees and a small flattened area outside designed for a car to park on.

  No car.

  Beside the sofa there’s a small round table covered with hardbacked books.

  “What is this place?” I ask Dorian as he reappears.

  He holds a small bottle in his hand that’s filled with clear liquid. “Every villain has a lair, Eloise.”

  I laugh at him and his eyes shine with shared amusement as he swigs from the bottle.

  “This is my private place. Nobody knows I come here. The cottage once belonged to—" He pauses.

  “Somebody you killed?” I ask flatly.

  “Yeah. Don’t worry, they dese
rved to die.” Dorian turns away and tips the contents of the bottle into his mouth. “Fuck, I needed that. There’s more in the kitchen if you want. Not much to eat, though.”

  “Right.” I stare around in confusion. Dorian Blackwood’s bolt hole?

  My staring shifts to Dorian as he drags his shirt over his head. He’s perfection, with pecs and abs moulded by his creation and not through time spent working out. I can’t help dropping my gaze to where the defined V-shape points below his low-slung jeans.

  He examines his chest with his fingers, and I picture myself searching his skin too. The effect this guy has on me is insane, for a lot of reasons and intensifies with every touch.

  With a sigh, he dips his head. “Do I have blood in my hair?” I nod, shocked at his nonchalance. “Ugh. Shower.”

  “Uh. Okay.”

  “You can join me if you want, Eloise?”

  Instantly, an image of Dorian’s glistening body dances across my mind, but I know exactly what will happen if I join him. “I’ll wait and shower after you.”

  “You’re very reserved for a girl who fucked a shifter and mid.” He cocks his head. “Or are you shy around me?”

  “Go. Shower,” I say and turn away. There’s only one direction this situation can turn, and a part of me still burns with the fervour from earlier. But after my experience with Ivan tonight, Dorian won’t be the one calling the shots.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ELOISE

  Dorian’s villain's lair is everything he isn’t—understated and muted. I sit in the leather sofa and sort through the books, expecting to find a grimoire. None. I pick up a burgundy bound one and flick open to the first page.

  A history book about witch families, with the Blackwoods' ancestry notably missing from this historian’s account.

  A second book contains a different history—the Purges committed by humans that killed many from all our races several centuries ago, with information about the founding Confederacy members. There’s little written about the Dominion, who only formed in the last half century.

  Every family’s ancestry is noted. I’ve never looked into the Thornbrook family tree, and so I trace the ancestry from my father to the great aunt I hated. My mother’s line stretches back to the Willowbrooks, another founding family.

  They’re all here, apart from the Blackwoods: Thornbrooks, Summerhills, Willowbrook, and Riverborn. We’re all related in some way, even if not by blood. There’s no Blackwood family tree included, of course, because nobody wants to reveal a familial connection to them.

  The Winterfall history is noted too, but their ancestral line stops at my mother’s generation. I heard the stories about the massacre, and rumours that the Blackwoods orchestrated the family’s deaths. The attack was clearly vampire, and the Confederacy killed those responsible, but the whole situation stays hushed.

  Due to the massacre, one of the founding witch families doesn’t exist anymore, and nobody knows the truth.

  Not that I cared, stuck in my isolation.

  I’ve a cousin on my father’s side—Alaric. He’s the son of the uncle Dorian killed. I saw him a lot as a kid, but apparently, he’s disappeared too. I’ve spent the last two years worrying vampires killed Alaric.

  Or did Dorian kill another from the family?

  Dorian appears in the doorway at the back of the home and all thoughts of history and murder fly straight from my mind. A shirtless Dorian stoked my desire earlier; a naked-chested Dorian glistening and clean with pink cheeks and damp hair almost has me jumping the sofa towards him. At least he has jeans back on.

  And he knows the effect, as he tugs his bottom lip into his mouth. “Do I make you uncomfortable? Should I dress?”

  Cocky devil. I pick up a book. “I didn’t imagine you as a history buff.”

  “Knowledge is power—and knowledge about my enemies’ strengths and weaknesses is my greatest power.”

  Witches.

  “How many of these people do you plan to kill?” I ask him jokingly as I tap the witch history book.

  His expression doesn’t hold an iota of amusement. “I haven’t counted yet. Maybe I should make a list?” Dorian approaches and takes the book from me, and his damp hair smells strangely un-Dorian: sweet and fruity. “I’ll start with those who hold the most influence—the corrupt bastards who threw me in Ravenhold.”

  “Dorian.” I close the book in his hands. “You can’t take on powerful opponents alone.”

  I shiver as he tucks hair behind my ear. “I’m the hybrid these people created to wreak havoc and death. Dumb bastards. The more I learn about them, the easier this will be.”

  “You’re going to use power gained from my blood to fuel killing innocent people?” I ask hoarsely. “This is why I resisted.”

  “Innocent? You’re naïve as ever, Eloise.” I narrow my eyes and he rubs a thumb across my eyebrow. “When I blow this society apart, you will be by my side. I know you crave revenge too.”

  “Against you for my uncle’s death?” I ask.

  “Sweet Eloise, we’re a little beyond that small issue now. We could head back and kill your parents, if you want?”

  Small issue? I gape. “Dorian!”

  “Look at your life and what they fucking did to you! Not just Ravenhold, but manipulating your existence. I faced the same and I bet your shifter lovers did too.”

  “But I don’t want anybody to die.”

  He shakes his head in frustration. “People have to die. End of story. You’ll need to kill me to stop my plans, Eloise.”

  Once more, Dorian seduced me into ignoring who he is. Did I honestly think that his narcissistic ambition was tempered though his years at Ravenhold? The fervour that shines in his eyes tells me not, and hairs raise on my neck.

  “Dorian,” I say hoarsely.

  “I’ll kill my family and the Blackwoods first, the dumb bastards. ‘Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  He picks up another book and holds it out. I read the spine. Poetry. “I’m a cultured guy, you know. If they’d had any sense, my creators would’ve taken my intelligence away.”

  My palms sweat and I wipe them on my jeans. What the hell have I done? I gave Dorian what he needs to put his plan into action.

  “You hungry?” he asks. “I might have something to eat, but probably not.” My head spins at his switching a conversation about murder and seizing power to something mundane.

  I follow him into a bright, modern kitchen, unable to believe I’m watching Dorian search through oak cupboards as if he’s about to feed his house guest.

  “And me?” I ask as I regather my wits. “Will you kill me? What about Zeke and Ethan?”

  Dorian turns and I shrink back as he approaches. “I took your blood. If I intended to kill you, I would’ve by now. You’re too useful.”

  “Useful?” I half-shout. “Is that all I am to you?”

  He shifts closer and the small rectangular dining table digs into my back. We’re not touching, but I can feel his heart beating as if he were. “I told you earlier how I feel.” I swallow as my blood sings to me from his veins. “How do you feel, Eloise?”

  “About you?” I ask hoarsely, as his warm, bare chest touches me.

  “Yes. You crave my darkness and power. You could never keep away. Even today, you could’ve run.” He places his hands on the table either side of me. “You could leave now.”

  I’m caged in and I heat beneath his gaze. “I could, if you step back. Maybe I should leave, since I don’t want to be involved with your plans.”

  He moistens his lips as he stares down at me. “No problem.”

  “Move, then.” Smiling, he steps back and crosses his arms. “Thank you.”

  Where am I? I don’t know if there’s anywhere close or if Dorian’s hideout is deep in the wilds. Are we even in the UK?

  I walk back into the other room and he calls after me, “I wish we’d had the opportunity to fuck befo
re you left.”

  “You’re such a romantic, Dorian,” I retort.

  “We still can,” he calls. “Aren’t you curious?”

  I spin on my heel and walk back into the kitchen where that grin is plastered on his face. “You always think you have control, don’t you, Dorian? You had a lifetime of beating everybody and everything; the prodigy with ultimate privilege. Even when they took that away, you crowned yourself as Prince of Ravenhold.” The grin grows. “I gave you my blood to save my life. If I wanted something from you, I could still take it.”

  “Do you fool yourself that you could control me, Eloise?” he whispers as his eyes glint. “Do you want to kill and create a beautiful creature who’ll do the necromancer’s bidding?”

  I smile slowly and touch his lips. “But here’s the thing, Dorian Blackwood. I don’t need to kill you to make you mine. You already told me you are.”

  He scoffs. “Your blood flows through me now. I don’t need to pretend anymore.”

  His words rile me. “I’ve watched you for weeks. You’re all mouth, because we both know that I’m your weakness.”

  “Wrong. You mean nothing.”

  I run my tongue along my top teeth. “But you want to fuck me, little prince, don’t you?”

  Dorian’s eyes shine a brighter blue as his fingers curl around the back of my head, digging hard into my scalp. “Is that an offer?” My breath catches as his mouth brushes mine before he stands with his cheek to mine, breathing evenly.

  The blood bond overwhelms me, but this is more. Dorian’s hot breath against my neck and the fresh scent from his shower sets me alight. Dorian thinks he’s taking control, but I’m ready to show him he’s wrong. Something inside screams at me to do this, to unite the last part of myself with him, but I won't give in. I won't be the first to yield.