by Sadie Moss
But unlike Cam and Asher, Roman doesn’t look elated. He has a small smile on his face, and I know he’s pleased with me—I recognize his stern looks way too well to mistake them for anything else—but there’s worry in his dark cobalt eyes too.
The other three might be a year ahead of me, but they’re also still students. Roman’s my professor. He knows more about magic than we do, possibly more than anyone else on campus besides Hardwick. The announcers might’ve lauded my clever strategy, but Roman knows better. He saw that I didn’t choose not to use magic—but that I couldn’t. That I didn’t know enough, and of the two tricks I could do, one didn’t get me anywhere and the other would’ve been too dangerous to use in such a small space.
He knows I struggled.
Our gazes lock. I know he’s seeing his worry reflected back at him in my own eyes, and I imagine he’s thinking the same thing I am.
If I barely got out of this one, how am I going to make it through the next challenge?
Chapter 12
Over the next week, my magic doesn’t improve.
Each of the Trials will be spaced a few weeks apart, so I’ve got a little time to figure out my shit before the pressure’s on again, but that only makes me feel like I have a ticking doomsday clock hovering over my head.
I don’t know what the deal is with my damn magic.
It feels… I guess the best way to describe it is slippery. Like I’m trying to grasp a snake covered in oil, and it keeps slithering out of my hands before I can get a good grip on it.
I just don’t understand. My magic seemed so strong when I first came here. It was uncontrolled and chaotic, but it was definitely there. Now it feels like it’s drifting away from me, falling through my fingers like sand no matter what I do.
Since the end of last semester, I’ve had a few more weird blips—that strange, slightly terrifying feeling of my magic settling or expanding or something inside me. I don’t know what it means, but I sure as hell hope it’s not related to my weakening control over my powers.
Now, of all times, I need to be improving. Not actively getting worse.
My professors all notice something’s wrong. Tamlin keeps shooting me concerned glances when she thinks I’m not looking, and she’s been going much easier on me in class and in our private sessions.
Roman, God love him, is a cranky bastard with a stick up his ass, so of course he does the opposite and gets harder on me.
We hashed this out once already last semester, and we’d gotten to a really good place where he treated me like any other student in his class—no better, no worse. But now he’s at it again, harping on every little mistake I make, calling me out in his deep, stern voice, and riding me into the ground. And as much as I secretly love when Roman tells me what to do in the bedroom, I sure as hell don’t appreciate it in class.
Last time he got like this, I confronted him, demanding he ease up and treat me like any other student.
And he did. He’s been doing really well about it—until now.
So I wait until after class to confront him for the second time.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I hiss, striding over to his desk a minute after the last student walks out the door and slamming my palms down on the dark wood.
Okay, so maybe I could’ve been a bit more tactful than that. But I don’t care. I’m a bundle of nerves these days, just waiting for Hardwick to summon me into his office and tell me I’m being removed from the Trials because I’m too damn weak.
I couldn’t handle that. I think the humiliation would honestly kill me.
“My problem,” Roman says stoically, dropping the book he lectured from in class, “is that you are not ready for the next Trial.”
“Oh, and being an asshole to me is really going to help,” I blurt. “You don’t think maybe you could try some gentle encouragement? A pep talk? Positivity?”
“Like that would get me anywhere with you.” He braces his own hands on the desk, leaning toward me, his dark blue eyes flashing. “Face it, Reckless, you respond best to adversity. When people compliment you, you don’t trust it. When they try to help you, you don’t listen. How else am I supposed to get through to you?”
“Treating me like a failure in front of my entire class sure as hell isn’t going to do it! You’re making yourself look like a jerk, which I know you’re not, and you’re making me feel like crap, which I know you don’t want to do, and we’re not getting anywhere!”
“Then tell me what to do, Elliot. By all means, tell me how to help you tap into your magic!”
“What if I don’t have any?”
I realize I’m yelling, my chest heaving and my face hot, and I take several deep breaths to try and calm down. Getting into a yelling match with any professor isn’t very smart, but if Roman and I get into a fight, and people overhear and figure out what’s going on between us…
I won’t be the reason he loses his job or the respect of his colleagues, and I’m sure as hell not ready to deal with the reaction of my fellow students.
“What are you talking about?” a third voice asks.
I whirl around.
Motherfucker.
Dmitri is standing in the doorway, a perplexed look on his face.
I’m guessing he heard everything—or at least enough.
“She giving you a hard time?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow at Roman.
Um… excuse me?
Roman sighs. “She’s giving herself a hard time, and I don’t know how to help her.”
I raise a hand, glaring between the two of them. “Hello? Right here.”
Dmitri’s dark eyes narrow, and he casts an assessing gaze between Roman and me. Then he closes the door behind him and prowls slowly toward me, glancing over at the other man as if communicating something without words.
Roman straightens and comes around the side of his desk so he and Dmitri are now an equal distance from me. It’s almost like they’re sharing the space—sharing me.
A hot thrill zaps down my spine, landing straight in my clit, and I curse my stupid brain. This isn’t the time, and my cranky-ass roommate, of all people, isn’t going to be interested in that with me.
Although the two men are very similar, I realize. Not just in looks—although Dmitri’s got a broader frame than Roman, and his eyes are deep brown, not blue—but in temperament. They’re both slightly grumpy, private people, hard to get to know, perfectionists to the core. They both like to be in control, and they’re both very… dominant.
Another zap of lightning streaks through me, making my nipples harden.
Jesus Christ, Elliot. Focus!
“What were you talking about when I walked in, Princess? You do have magic,” Dmitri says, as if that should be obvious to me. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah? Then how come I can barely use it lately?” I demand. “I can’t do any of the things in class the rest of you can. And when I try it’s like—it’s like sand, just sliding through my fingertips, and I can’t fucking do it!”
“Elliot Sinclair telling us she can’t do something,” Roman murmurs. “Must be raining hellfire outside, because I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of the apocalypse.”
“Even I’ve got my limits,” I snap, too annoyed to be impressed that the stoic man just cracked a joke.
“No, you don’t,” Dmitri snaps right back. “I’ve never seen you back down from a challenge, and we’re not about to let you quit now.”
I scowl at him. “I’m not quitting—”
“Maybe not literally, but in your head? Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doing. And it’s bullshit. You can be just as good as the other competitors if you just believe in yourself.”
“Oh, like you believe in me?”
“You don’t know anything about what I believe.” His lip curls.
I step toward him, the hot anger in my chest prompting me to get right in his face, to make sure he knows I may be weak, but that doesn’t mean he can pus
h me around, doesn’t mean—
The scent of cloves mingles with the scent of leather in the air around me, and as I suck in a deep breath, the twin aromas flood my senses. With a start, I realize he stepped forward when I did, and now he’s standing almost directly in front of me, Roman behind me.
I’m surrounded.
Strength radiates from their bodies, making me warm all over, and their combined energy is so dark and masculine it makes me shiver.
Maybe I should feel scared, but I know neither of them would hurt me. Roman has shown me how much he cares for me, and even if Dmitri sometimes seems to hate my guts, he’s not a psychopath or a bully.
As the two men move closer, each one’s actions perfectly mirroring the other’s, my pulse kicks up, my heart throbbing hard in my chest as goose bumps prickle my skin.
But it’s not because I’m afraid.
No…
It’s because I’m turned the fuck on.
“Your magic will improve when you start believing in it,” Roman murmurs from behind me, the heat of his body seeping into mine even though he’s not touching me. “And when you start taking better care of yourself.”
“Yeah, staying up till all hours trying to kill yourself with homework is not helping things,” Dmitri growls, his voice lower than before. Rougher.
“You realize you two can’t tell me what to do, right?” I shoot back, resorting to bluster while I try to get my focus back. Blood is rushing in my ears, my lower belly dissolving into a pool of liquid heat. “You can’t boss me around.”
“I thought you liked it when I did that.” Roman chuckles darkly.
My clit spasms, and I turn around to glare at him. “That’s in the bedroom, and it’s different, and you know it.”
“Why am I not surprised you like it when he orders you around in bed?” Dmitri’s voice is hard behind me.
I whirl again, still boxed in between the two of them. Before I can stop myself, I spit out, “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind if you did either, but seeing as you’re so determined to hate me, I guess that door’s shut for you, isn’t it?”
Everything freezes for a moment.
Dmitri stares at me, surprise flickering over his features. His pupils dilate, making his already dark eyes appear almost black, and I realize what I just said.
Oh my God.
His expression shifts, and he takes a step toward me. I move back instinctively, but only make it a half-step before I bump into Roman, my back pressed against his hard chest.
“You think I hate you, Princess?” Dmitri murmurs, his gaze hot and dark as it slides down my body. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”
I swallow, my mouth dry, my stomach fluttering like a butterfly on speed.
Holy fuck, what the hell is happening right now?
I knew these two men were starting to get along better, bonding over their shared moodiness, but when the hell did they get this close? They’re moving in tandem like a well-oiled machine—or a pair of predators closing in for the kill.
Roman’s hands grip my hips, pinning me against him, and my pulse thrashes wildly in my veins.
I don’t think Dmitri locked the door; we’re still in a classroom, and if anybody were to walk in right now, they’d find the three of us in a very compromising position. But it’s hard to get my rational brain to register that thought when my body is sparking, aching, coming alive.
“You only like it when I tell you what to do during sex, Reckless?” Roman breathes, his mouth right at my ear, his lips brushing against my hot skin. “Fine. We can make it about sex, if that’ll get you to listen to us.”
He rolls his hips shallowly against me, and I can feel him getting hard. My pussy clenches as a wave of arousal crashes through me. Holy motherfucking shitballs. I moan a little, helpless, and I feel Dmitri shudder in response.
“Will you listen to us now?” he rasps, taking another step closer until he’s pretty much pressed up against me. I can hardly breathe. His cock is growing hard too, I can feel it, and I’m so turned on I don’t know if I can keep standing. My knees wobble, threatening to buckle.
Not that there’s any chance of me falling over.
Dmitri slides his leg between mine, and now I’m completely trapped, pinned between the two men. My hands land on his shoulders and Roman takes my earlobe between his teeth, tugging slightly. I whimper.
“You like that.” Dmitri’s lips curve in a hungry, almost vicious smile. “You like the two of us in charge, don’t you?”
Fucking Jesus. I’m panting like a dog in heat, does he really have to ask that right now?
My mind floods with images, each more enticing than the last. God, yes, I like this. I want them to do so many things to me. I want them to keep working together like this, want them to make me beg, want to cling to them both as they make me fall apart…
I haven’t been letting myself think about how attracted I am to Dmitri, but now that he’s made it clear he wants me too, at least sexually, it’s like a floodgate opening. I’m so turned on I can barely see straight, and the fact that Roman’s here too only makes it hotter.
My breath hitches, and I feel my underwear getting damp, my body slick and aching for them.
“Yes.”
The word falls from my lips like someone pulled it out of me, and it doesn’t sound as seductive and defiant as I was hoping it would. Instead, it sounds raw and… honest.
Their reaction is immediate. Roman’s fingers dig into my hips, and he kisses along the side of my neck as Dmitri hooks one finger under my chin, tilting my head up. His finger trails slowly down my throat, my chest—oh God, traces my breasts—
“How about this,” Roman offers, his voice rough. “You work on taking care of yourself and going easy on yourself. Giving yourself credit and believing you can do this. And if you’re very, very good…”
Dmitri’s finger reaches the waistband of my jeans. He toys with the button, and I’m so close to begging him to rip them off, so close to begging them both to just lock the fucking door, bend me over the desk, and put me out of my damn misery—
“…we can continue this little meeting,” Roman finishes.
His hands squeeze my hips, and then he and Dmitri step away in unison, leaving me standing alone on shaky legs.
I blink at them in shock, like I can’t quite remember their names.
Or my name.
Or how to speak English.
“Sound like a deal?” Roman asks, a businesslike tone returning to his voice.
“This isn’t just about the competition,” Dmitri says flatly, as if he wasn’t just fondling my boobs two seconds ago. “This is for your own safety. We could give a damn if you win or not. We care about you being happy and safe.”
Um… excuse me, what now? Dmitri cares whether I’m happy? He wants me safe?
That’s a new one. I guess maybe it’s because he wants to fuck me, but I’m honestly surprised he’s worried about my well-being at all. I thought I was just a sometimes-amusing, sometimes-annoying distraction he puts up with because of Asher and Cam.
“Well?” Roman’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I nod, my throat like sandpaper. “Deal.”
“Good girl,” Dmitri growls, and my clit spasms again.
Oh my God.
When they finally do fuck me, I’m not going to survive it.
Chapter 13
All four of the guys help me to prepare for the next trial.
The two weeks in between each event give the admins time to fix any damage to school grounds and set up the next challenge, and for the people competing to catch a breather and go back to classes at their respective schools. Nobody wants to interrupt a student’s entire semester just for a competition, as prestigious as that competition might be.
My professors, Tamlin and Roman included, are clearly trying to strike some kind of balance between teaching me normal coursework and also teaching me shit I’ll probably need to use for the Trials.
But if Dmitri finds out I’m thinking like that, it’ll be my head, apparently.
I’m trying to be kinder to myself, I really am. The guys help me with my homework and test me on my skills. Roman can’t do too much without it being blatant favoritism, but he starts tutoring me like Tamlin is. Since she’s doing it too, nobody can claim something untoward is going on—unless someone wants to get really creative and say I’m banging both of them.
Hardwick doesn’t want the Trials distracting us from the real reasons we’re here—gaining control over our magic, getting prepared for a career, learning more about our culture and history, and showing the world that Unpredictable magic isn’t the horrifying freak show they think it is.
But how the hell are we supposed to stay focused when I’m worried to death about the Trials, and my friends are worried about me?
I just wish I knew what the next challenge will be. We’re not told anything about it in advance, and neither are the professors, to ensure nobody can tamper with anything or cheat. If I knew, I could at least narrow down my field of study and preparation.
No such luck though.
When the day arrives, I’m so nervous I can’t even eat breakfast. Asher coaxes me into having some orange juice and an energy bar, but I can’t stomach any more than that. The guys aren’t happy about it, and I hate that I’m worrying them—but I’m such a mess that if I try to eat anything else, I swear I’m just going to puke it all right back up again.
The seven other competitors and I are led out into the cool morning air and brought to the quad. Small risers have been set up around the perimeter of the large space, but I don’t see any structures like there were last time. The quad looks like it always does, the large space crisscrossed with paths and dotted with trees.