Dread Delight: Rosewood Academy for Witches and Mages (Darkly Sweet Book 2)

by Juliann Whicker

  I shook my head and felt the blush rise on my cheeks. Hopefully the lights were dim enough he couldn’t see it. “Why would you fight Ian for a kiss from me?”

  He cocked his head, eyes narrowing before he brushed my cheek with his fingers. “Does the thought of kissing me make you blush or is it something else? Would you like me to lose so you can be kissed by Ian?”

  I blushed harder and stumbled away from him. I would have tumbled down the bleachers if he hadn’t grabbed my arm to hold me steady. “I don’t like Ian.”

  He smiled slightly and his eyes sparked green. “He’s not wicked enough for you? You have such high expectations. Poor Ian. Now that we’ve gotten that cleared up, shall we?” He held out his arm for me, the beautiful wool of his jacket smooth and lustrous under my fingers.

  I pulled away and shook my head before I pushed his jacket off his shoulders walking around him, stepping up the bleachers to take it off. I couldn’t let him ruin such a beautiful jacket, not if it was a fight over me. It wasn’t though. It was a fight over Drake. Witley wanted him and Drake was fighting for me to irritate her. I was almost certain of it.

  “You have the most beautiful jackets. I would like to meet your tailor someday.”

  He cleared his throat while he held very still as I folded his jacket over my arm and started on the buttons of his shirt. “It could be arranged. How odd, it’s almost as though you’re undressing me. Have you ever been a valet?”

  “Something like that. Do you mind?” I glanced up at him as I hesitated on his third button.

  He stared at me, his face expressionless. “Mind? Excellent question. You’ll have to undo a few more so I can gauge my reaction more clearly.”

  Suddenly it seemed like standing on the bleachers in a circus tent wasn’t exactly the right place to take off Drake’s shirt, particularly if he had a chest underneath it, which seemed inevitable. And his chest would have my name inscribed in it. Was it healing? My fingers shook as I undid the next button and slid the shirt open so I could see his chest where I’d left such a charming memento from the dance.

  Smooth skin met my fingertips as I slid them over his chest, the taut skin over strong muscles until I realized what I was doing and went quickly back to his buttons. I fumbled over them, but soon enough had them all undone and the shirt off his shoulders, only catching on his wrists for a moment before I remembered to get his cufflinks, then I folded it and draped it over my arm with the jacket.

  He scratched his ear, the movement pulling his pectorals and triceps, bulging but not massive. Gracefully muscular. Beautiful. Perfect. Delicious. My mouth watered as the scent of black cherry swirled between us.

  “We should probably go before Ian forgets that he’s supposed to be fighting me and seduces someone else instead. He’s easily distracted.”

  I ripped my eyes off his chest and nodded. Easily distracted. He needed to put his shirt back on. No, it would get muddy. I nodded again and turned to head decidedly down the bleachers and towards the tent door.

  No one mentioned my escort having no shirt. Apparently circuses were more lax about the whole no shirt no service thing. Being so close to him, him wearing so little clothing, I felt weird, careless, fuzzy.

  We walked through the darkness to the mud on the far side of the parking lot where a crowd was gathering while Witley made Ian perform.

  Ian had no shirt and Witley stood beside him like a lion tamer, giving him instructions and tapping him like he was her personal pet. He performed the perfect flip, twisting as he landed on two hands then launched his body and once more landed on his feet. He glanced at her and that look made me shiver.

  Her golden lion would maul her, rip her apart the moment she put down her guard. She smiled at him, teeth vicious. She called a series of flips and spins and slapped his cheek before he launched into the series that the growing crowd greeted with cheers and applause. Ooh, a post-circus show.

  “What is she doing? Does she want him to throw the fight?”

  Drake glanced at me. “She’s trying to get him all riled up so he fights out of instincts, anger. He’s likely to do more damage that way. She wants a good show. He’s her prime thoroughbred. She should get a good race out of him.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t get it. Why would Ian do that? What does he owe her?”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Ian and Witley have a very long and complicated history. Don’t worry. Whatever Witley does to Ian, he will return with interest. He might start with winning so he can kiss you. Don’t tell Witley, but that would bother her even more than me kissing you.”

  I frowned at him. “If she doesn’t want either one of you to kiss me, why would she…” I trailed off as we got into the crowd.

  He winked at me and stalked towards Witley. “Let’s get this started. I don’t seem to have a shirt on and I’m getting cold.”

  Ian flew into him, knocking him down into the cold mud. Maybe I should have let him keep the jacket on. It would provide some protection from the elements and Ian’s hard fist. Such a hard fist. The sound of bone against flesh, the groan of pain, the smell of blood that welled through the air made my stomach tighten. I turned away and came up against Witley. She was staring at me, not the fight.

  “Now that they’re busy, why don’t we have a little chat?”

  Ah. That’s what she’d wanted. I swallowed down the nausea from the violence I could still hear and smell. “I’d love to talk. We’ve never really had a good girl talk. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know what your main interests are at school, what you like to eat, anything really.”

  Her answer was slashing her nails across my face. It would have left scars but before her nails came in contact with my skin yellow light burst from my cheek and sent her stumbling back.

  Her mouth made an O shape while she held her hand to her chest, either paralyzed or completely numb. I stared at her because that was a surprise for me, too.

  “That was a mage spell,” she hissed.

  “Was it? Maybe I’m a mage.”

  She narrowed her sapphire eyes at me while her lips curled. “Lars. What other surprises did he leave? He’ll pay for this.”

  I put my fingers to my cheek, but I didn’t feel anything. “Lars? He spelled me and then ran away? He really is a strange mage. Marilyn was right.”

  Wit glared at me as she flexed and curled her hand. The spell’s effects didn’t last very long. Would she try again? I could take being hurt by Wit. It wouldn’t be anything compared to Pitch, Poppy or even my mother for that matter.

  Lars was more complicated than I expected. I didn’t want complicated. I didn’t want to be surprised. I didn’t want to have to second guess his motivations. I shook my head. He wouldn’t work. I felt a wave of stress leave my shoulders when I’d made that decision. I turned and faced the fighting. I shouldn’t feel anything. But I did. I felt so much. I shouldn’t care whether I married Lars, Lester, or any other mage. They should all be the same to me, the despicable creatures who I could never trust, but staring at Ian and Drake, my heart pounded and what I really wanted was to step out into that patch of mud and drag Drake with me into the woods beyond.

  Delicious. In spite of the sickness, the way my stomach twisted each time a fist hit flesh, I was fascinated, the shape of Drake’s beautiful body shifting with each movement, the two ferocious creatures that felt no pain, only fierce anger reflected in their sparking eyes. Green and gold.

  The night got fuzzy, indistinct besides those two bodies having nothing like a proper knee between them. This was a brawl, artless, pointless, flesh pounding flesh. What would Pitch think of it? Drake let Ian give him so much pain, pouring it onto him like a waterfall, and Drake drowned in it. Jealous then. Pitch would be jealous that anyone else gave Drake pain.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and forced myself to breathe, even as my stomach churned. How long did they fight? Hours, minutes? Finally, Drake staggered to his feet, pale skin specked with blood, his mouth swollen, and
one almost shut eye. Several bruises spread across his chest, but Ian was still on the ground from Drake’s last particularly vicious attack. Drake must have cracked Ian’s jaw in that last punch. They could have fought better, but they seemed to have rules for this sort of thing, how to fight where humans can see you so they don’t see the magic.

  Wit laughed melodically beside me. I’d forgotten all about her. “Drake’s the winner! Congratulations! Time for you to take your prize. Are you ready for Drake’s kiss, Penny?”

  Her eyes gleamed as she smiled, the crowd around us cheering and giving Drake some helpful tips on how to really give it to me. Did they not see his mouth? Anything he did with those lips would bring pain not pleasure.

  I inhaled sharply because no one should make him hurt besides me. Wow, that was psychotic, but there you go. Should I refuse to let him kiss me? He walked up to me, his eyes gleaming, full of the sharp focus that violence fed. He was still in attack mode, and I was his target.

  “Drake, I…”

  He grabbed my hand, raised it while staring at me with intensity that made my knees tremble and my mouth water then brushed his lips over my fingers. “You didn’t specify the sort of kiss, Wit,” he murmured without looking away from me.

  I couldn’t breathe. His fingers tightened on mine for a moment before he dropped my hand, took his shirt, slid it over his shoulders and started walking away. What? All that buildup for that, a quick kiss on my hand and now he was leaving me?

  “Are you coming, Penny? Lars asked me to drive you back.” He didn’t pause so I only saw his back, but I still had his jacket over my arm.

  I looked at Witley like she would give me some kind of direction but her lips only curled like I was pathetic for not taking advantage of Drake at every possible moment. I glanced over at Ian where he was sitting, leaning over his knees in the mud. He gave me a half-smile with his lustrous mouth a mouth that was in much better shape than Drake’s.

  “I’ll give you a ride home, Penny,” Ian said with a leer that sent me after Drake. I did not need to spend more time with that wolf. I hurried until I caught up with my personal bad wolf then followed a step behind.

  “Lovely night, don’t you think?”

  “Why did he make you so ugly?”

  He laughed. “I prefer gently disheveled.”

  “You didn’t gently dishevel him.”

  He paused. “I’m sorry, did you want me to make Ian ugly? Witley likes that, him a little less pretty, so I tend to leave his face alone. I really dislike making Wit happy.”

  “So if Wit didn’t want you to kiss me, you would have done it with a bit more…”

  “No.”

  “But you enjoy publicly…”

  “I do, but not tonight. It’s a lovely night.” His voice was hard, a hint of anger to him that I didn’t understand.

  I followed, stomach tangled up until we got to the car. He opened the back door with a slight bow. “Your chariot, fair fairy maid.”

  I climbed in, brushing past his arm to get in the car. One brush and my skin came alive. Drake. He was so close and smelled so delicious. When he tugged his jacket away from me I didn’t realize what he was doing and held onto it stupidly.

  He smiled slightly. “Unless you’d like to sit in the front and cling to me.”

  I moved without thinking, slipping around him, leaving his jacket in his hands as I opened the front door and climbed in. He stood there with the back door open for a long time before he shook his head slightly and went around to the driver’s side. What was I doing? My heart pounded and my hand ached where his lips had touched it. You could hardly call that a kiss, so why was I completely melting down? Melting. That was the word. Heat kept growing in my chest, through my limbs, and he wasn’t even looking at me.

  When he did, I caught my breath and fumbled for a lollipop. Lavender and dirt his mouth was beautiful even swollen and bloody. The blood went with the black cherry scent that filled my head.

  “Ian hit you a lot.” Wow. Marks for stating the obvious.

  “He did. I’m sorry if it got boring.”

  “Not boring. Not with the mud. Do you think you made him hurt very much?” Mud? I needed to stop talking.

  He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “Why Penny, I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty. I like it.”

  I blushed. Why did that make me blush? “No. That’s not what I mean. I don’t like you giving him pain, him taking your pain like it belongs to him. How would you feel if I hurt Witley, wrestled around with her and dug my nails into her skin? Never mind. I don’t mean that. I mean it’s awkward to see a guy without a shirt smeared with mud. What were we talking about?”

  He glanced at me again, but that time he wore a wide grin that was trouble, his wolf grin. “We certainly weren’t talking about how much you want me, pain and all. Neither were we discussing how extremely distracting you find me wearing nothing but mud. Wit. Such a dull topic. Ian doesn’t register pain when I hit him. He can hardly feel anything besides the agony of being in love with a woman who hates him.”

  “He’s in love with her? He would murder her like a lunatic if he got the chance. Ian in love? A mage? Drake, you must be concussed or something. Mages don’t love.”

  He started the car, his hand twisting violently. “Don’t be so silly, Penny. Mages love passionately. I had a hat once that I was utterly in love with. Also, a pair of cufflinks. I don’t know if you’ve seen them, jade dragons with a little diamond for its eye? Or my diamond cufflinks and matching tie pin that I wear in my favorite snowy cravat. There are so many beautiful things in the world to adore. How about you? Are you still falling in love with me?”

  I inhaled sharply while I stared at him and my heart pounded wildly. I never should have told him that. Giving him my vulnerability like that was a horrible error. At the same time, I’d already confessed. “I haven’t fainted around you for days. I think it’s clearing up.”

  He glanced over at me, his lips curled before he pulled out. “Really? Like a bad case of the measles. Love is a disease.”

  I shrugged. “I love Señor Mort. You’re right. There are some things worth loving.”

  He laughed and focused on the road. “Señor Mort isn’t a thing. He would bite you if he heard you using such derogatory language. No one with manners like he has can be relegated to an object.”

  I sighed. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Señor Mort was actually a prince under a horrible curse? How could I break the spell?”

  “Have you tried kissing him?”

  I nodded. “I kiss his head a lot. Sometimes his adorable little paws. And his nose. He’s licked my mouth a few times. Probably if he were a prince under a curse… but I’m not a princess. It wouldn’t work for me.”

  I gripped the seat while my heart pounded and I had the uncontrollable urge to curl up in the fetal position and cry. He put his hand over mine and I gripped it with both of mine, staring at his hand, strong, raw knuckled, perfect. He had some freckles on the back. I pressed the freckles with my thumb, one at a time like I was picking out constellations.

  “Is it Orion?”

  “Sagittarius.”

  My pounding heart settled to a regular throbbing as I gripped his hand, pulling a world of comfort from him. It was like hugging Signore Ludi only better. The drive ended too quickly and as he pulled into the parking spot on the second story of the parking garage, we could look out the windshield over the fields opposite the polo stadium. A burst of yellow came from far away. Someone was doing explosives in that field. Maybe hurters, maybe mage things.

  “Who is your favorite poet?” My voice seemed too loud. I shouldn’t sit there holding his hand. I needed to go to bed and stay far, far from Drake.

  “I don’t have one. I like musicians more than poets. Sinatra for drinking, Rachmaninoff for fighting, Chopin for building bombs…” He smiled, staring at the field and the stars beyond.

  “You’re a strange mage.”

  “I am. Strangely attrac
tive, strangely brilliant, strangely talented…”

  “Strangely strange.”

  He laughed, a low rumble that sent a shiver through me. His laughter was beautiful, musical. “I think that would be ordinary, wouldn’t it? I’ll have to ask Zach. He’s always keeping me on the straight and narrow where my usage is concerned. How are you doing with Zach? Are you still trying to get a new room?”

  I forced myself to loosen my grip on his fingers. “I punched him in the face and hurt my hand.”

  “You should have used a baseball bat.”

  “Or a hammer.”

  “What did he do?”

  I shook my head. “He’s just him. He wants me to forget about what he did.” What he did that left me vulnerable and in need of the spell Drake gave me. We should talk about it, get it over with. “Fifty percent is left to pay off your mage spell. What do you want?”

  “What do you value most?”

  I glanced at him then back over the hood and the night beyond. “Señor Mort. My business. My independence.”

  He nodded soberly. “Let’s start with Señor Mort. You have to let him bite me more often. Each time Señor Mort bites me, ten percent. As for your business…”

  I couldn’t breathe. Was this it? Was this the horrible thing I’d been waiting for? “What?”

  “I want to buy shares in it. I want you to open it up to investors, mostly me. Think about it. If you agreed to do that, I would consider our debt free and clear.”

  I turned and stared at his wretchedly beautiful face. “That’s what you want? That’s what all of this is, the mustache diversion, the humiliating confession all the subtle buildup to you taking over my business?”

  He ran his fingers over his lip, still swollen but not quite as bad, and it wasn’t bleeding anymore. His mouth was so beautiful. Would I ever know what it felt like to have his lips on mine? I shouldn’t think that, shouldn’t want that. He gave me his most seductive smile along with a wink. “Who said anything about taking over? I simply want a discount. I’ve been noticing some uneven skin tone around my jawline. What do you think? Do you have a product that will save me from the perils of imperfection?”