Magic Gambit (Hidden World Academy Book 3)

by Sadie Moss

  Fuck, dammit, fuck.

  I said she, not I. In my push to get answers about Roxie, I slipped up and blew my cover.

  Madame Mulfrey snorts. “I didn’t mean her, girl, I meant you.”

  “Wh-what?”

  The old woman nods at me, her eyes burning. “I’m talking about you, Gabbi Telford.”

  Chapter 20

  What. The. Fuck?

  Madame Mulfrey knows my name. My full name. There’s no way—how could she know that?

  “My fate?” I choke out, the words barely making it past my tight throat. “You’re talking about… me?”

  The old interpreter nods.

  “So I’m going to be the one to break the world.” I speak slowly, as if I’m learning a foreign language. And that’s how it feels when I speak. As if the words make no sense; they have no meaning.

  I’m supposed to break the world. Not Roxie. Me.

  But how is that even possible?

  “Yes,” Madame Mulfrey says. “Unless you take your one chance to stop it. Good luck with that, I suppose.”

  Ugh, I thought the wise old woman types were supposed to be all warm and supportive, not cranky. I shake my head. “No, that can’t be right. I’m not even from here.”

  Moving quicker than her age should allow, the old woman crosses the small space, pressing her hand to my chest, over my heart. She smells like chamomile, and the scent would be comforting if the look on her face wasn’t so damn intense it makes my blood feel like water.

  “I know what I’m talking about, girl,” she whispers softly. “I see you, I see who you truly are, and I see the fate that binds itself to you like the web of a spider. You’re from the other world, you switched with your twin. You are the one the prophecy speaks of.”

  My jaw is working, opening and closing, but nothing is really coming out. I look over at the guys, who are all standing there looking about as dumbfounded as I feel.

  Did the cult get it all wrong? I mean—I can’t blame them, really. I was in an entirely different dimension. If they got wind of this world-breaking prophecy, they must have automatically assumed it meant Roxie. After all, Roxie assumed it was about herself too.

  Should the cult have been coming after me this entire time? Am I the real target? But how is that even possible? I’m from the Dull World, I don’t have magic—okay, well, I didn’t have magic—surely prophecies can’t even apply to people from my world, can they? Can prophecies be about people from a dimension other than this one?

  If Madame Mulfrey is right though, if this prophecy is about me, then that means… oh, fuck, that means I’m going to break the world. I’ll be the one who ruins it all, who destroys everything.

  My stomach heaves, and I wheel around as I feel the walls of the cabin close in on me. Before I can even register what I’m doing, I charge toward the door we just came through, bursting back out into the hot, humid air. Bile burns my throat, and my limbs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds as I charge away from the house. My skin feels too fucking tight.

  I have to get out of here, I just have to get out, I can’t do this.

  This whole time, I thought of Roxie as special, as the one that we had to protect and look after, and now someone’s telling me I’m the special one, that I’m the one with this huge weight on my shoulders.

  I didn’t even realize how much I appreciated Roxie being the one with that weight until it was lifted off of her and put onto me. Being the sidekick was a better gig than I’d thought it would be. Now that our positions are reversed and I’m suddenly faced with the prospect of having to make this huge, awful decision, I feel like a bigger imposter than I ever have in my life.

  There’s no fucking way I’m qualified for this.

  Nausea hits me as I stumble through the undergrowth, trying not to throw up. Several minutes later, I force my legs to stop moving, coming to a halt when I reach a small clearing. The queasy feeling abates a little as I brace myself against a tree and bend over, taking several deep breaths.

  I want to go back and yell at Madame Mulfrey, to shake her and tell her that she has to fix it, that she must be wrong, or mistaken. That she needs to listen to the prophecy again and tell me the right interpretation this time.

  This is why people turn on their interpreter, I think numbly.

  I’m so frustrated, so lost and confused, like I was just starting to maybe get a leg up and now the rug has been yanked out from under me again. I want Madame Mulfrey to take it back, but I also promised her that I just wanted the truth, and now I’ve gotten it. It’s up to me to do something about it, I suppose.

  Well, what I want to do about it is hit something.

  Instead I settle for screaming out over the swamp, with what feels like six months’ worth of frustration unleashed from inside of me. I genuinely feel like crap, and I don’t know what to do about it.

  “Careful there, cupcake, you’re gonna call all the wild animals to us.”

  I jump, my existential scream morphing into a yelp. Wheeling around, I see Cross emerging from the bushes, a wry smile on his face.

  “No offense,” he adds, “but I’m not sure I could protect you from another gator that big.”

  “This isn’t fucking funny,” I blurt out. Screaming didn’t help. Nothing is helping. There’s pressure building inside my chest, pushing against my heart, my lungs, my ribs. It’s too much. I can’t contain it all. “Dammit, Cross, why do you have to make everything into a joke? Didn’t you hear what that woman said? I’m going to destroy my entire world! I’m going to break it. It’s better if some alligator eats me now!”

  It feels like my blood is on fire, but not in a good way—more like my body is trying to burn me to death from the inside out. My throat is tight, and to my horror, I can feel tears working their way up through me.

  The expression on Cross’s face changes instantly, and I can tell that although he was trying to lighten the mood before, he’s deadly serious now. “Don’t say shit like that, Gabbi. Don’t.”

  “Why not?” I spread my arms wide, like I’m daring the universe to strike me with a fucking lightning bolt or something. My heart is beating against my ribs like a war drum, and I feel like I’m trapped inside my own body, like it’s a carnival ride I’ve been strapped into and desperately want to escape. “You don’t get to tell me what to say or how to feel about this! You’re not the one who’s got this—this curse hanging over your head, okay? I am!”

  His jaw tightens, a muscle in the side of his face jumping as he clenches his teeth. “Yeah? Well, I’m in love with the woman who’s fated to do this, so I think that gives me a little bit of a stake here, cupcake. I want to help her, and right now, I’m watching her let this bullshit get the best of her. I’m watching her accept defeat, and I’m not gonna fucking have it.”

  My hands ball up into fists at my sides, and I don’t even know if it’s because I want to hit him or throw a giant temper tantrum. “You think I’m accepting defeat? You think I’m not strong enough to handle this?”

  Acid churns in my stomach as I speak, and a cold certainty enters my bones.

  It’s the truth. I’m not.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Cross replies, his brows snapping together.

  “No, I don’t know it,” I shoot back, my voice shaking. “Because all you do is crack jokes and act like everything should be easy all the time. You don’t—I’m drowning here, and I could use a little fucking support, not you telling me I’m doing this all wrong—”

  “Fucking hell. I don’t think you’re doing this wrong, dammit!” Cross sounds really, genuinely upset, which is rare for him. Or at least it’s rare for him to let anyone see when he’s upset. “I think you’re capable of so much more than you imagine you are, and you keep insisting that you can’t fucking handle it, but you’re so much more than you let yourself think—”

  “But what if I’m not?” I shout, tears of anger and helpless fear pricking at my eyes. “What if I’m not, Cros
s? What if I’m everything I fear I am? Some second-rate imposter!”

  “You…” Cross shakes his head in frustration, clutching at the air like he wants to strangle something. “You are the most impossible woman, I fucking swear—”

  “Oh, I’m impossible?”

  “Yes! You’re so—”

  “What about you, Mr.—”

  I have about a dozen choice insults sitting on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn’t matter, because I never get to say any of them. Before I can finish, Cross grabs me roughly by the shoulders, and the next thing I know, his lips are crashing down on mine.

  It’s a kiss meant to shut me up.

  Meant to prove a point.

  And even though I don’t know quite what that point is, it doesn’t stop me from responding. It’s instinct by now, an innate reaction, like we’re two magnets that someone flipped around to face each other—and just like that, we snap together.

  His mouth is hard and bruising against mine, and I kiss him back with the same ferocity, shoving my body against his as my arms wrap around his back. Cross is bigger than me though, and he outweighs me by about a hundred pounds, so we go where he wants to. Keeping his lips fused to mine, he shoves me backward with his legs so that I’m still pinned to him but forced to move, my back slamming against a tree.

  Now that I’m sandwiched between him and the tree, there’s nowhere for us to go, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing to press into me, his hands moving over my body with possessive heat as he wedges his leg between mine.

  His thigh grinds against my clit, and I grunt into his mouth, clawing at his back as my tongue battles with his. Our teeth knock together, and the coppery tang of blood mingles with Cross’s unique taste as we kiss so hard and deep that I can’t fucking breathe.

  It occurs to me, in the few functional brain cells I have left, that I’m using Cross as a vessel for every fucked up emotion rampaging through my system right now. That I’m pouring every bit of it into him.

  And that he’s letting me.

  He’s taking my feelings and absorbing them, releasing some of the pressure that was choking my chest.

  Then he rolls his hips against me, grinding his thigh against my clit again, and my last working brain cells shut off. I thread my fingers through his thick brown hair and kiss him harder, pressing against the tree for leverage as I try to climb his body like a monkey. I’ve gone from zero to a hundred in seconds, and I can feel slick arousal dampen my panties as another jolt of sensation shoots through me.

  Our bodies are pressed so tightly together it’s like we’re in a vise, but I still manage to work one hand between us, shoving it down to reach for his cock. I feel the thick heat of it through his pants, but before I can do more than brush my fingertips over it, Cross growls and steps back, wrenching his lips away from mine.

  I slide down the tree—because he actually managed to lift me off my feet when he had me pinned—but before I can get my bearings, his hands fall to my hips and he spins me around. Instinctively, my hands come up to brace myself against the thick, rough trunk, and when Cross tugs my hips backward, I let myself hinge at the waist.

  My skin is burning, my breath still coming in ragged gasps, and when he runs his large hands down the curve of my spine and over the swell of my ass, I let out a low groan.

  “Fuck… Cross…”

  My words seem to do something to him. His movements had slowed a bit, becoming slightly more controlled, but at the sound of my voice, he grunts under his breath, sliding his hands around to my stomach to fumble jerkily with the button and fly of my pants. As soon as they’re undone, he shoves my pants and panties halfway down my thighs in one swift motion, and my eyes practically roll back in my head when the warm, humid air of the Aeriglades hits my bare pussy.

  Holy… holy fuck.

  That’s the last coherent thought I have before he sinks two fingers into me, groaning when he feels how wet I am for him. The heel of his hand works my clit as he pumps his thick fingers in and out a few times, making me claw at the tree like I’m trying to climb it this time.

  “Do you know why I’m so sure you can handle whatever’s coming your way, Gabbi?” he asks roughly, his body leaning over mine, burning even hotter than the sweltering air that surrounds us.

  I gasp something that I think is supposed to be the word “why?” But it doesn’t really matter what word it is, because Cross goes on anyway. He slowly drags his fingers out of me as he speaks, smearing my arousal over my thigh, and then his warm hands pull away from me.

  “Because you can handle anything,” he rasps. I hear the telltale sound of a zipper and the rustling of clothing behind me, and then his cock presses against the soft flesh of my ass, hard and thick and hot. “You can handle me. You have since the first fucking day you met me, and I know I’m no picnic.”

  His cock dips lower, sliding between my legs, teasing my wet folds and making me shudder as my eyelids droop. I’m biting my bottom lip so hard I’m about to take a chunk out of it, and I bump my ass back against him, silently demanding more.

  The sound of his groan makes my heart beat faster, and his fingers dig into my hips, holding me steady as he draws back, coating himself in more of my wetness. Then he changes the angle and thrusts forward again, plunging inside me in one hard thrust.

  My back arches, my fingernails raking the bark of the tree like it’s a scratching post and I’m a feral cat. “Fuck! Cross!”

  He draws partway out and plunges into me again, and I swear I can feel the electric energy between us crackling in the air. I can feel the imprints his hands are leaving on my hips, and our bodies shake with the force of his thrusts.

  “You like that, cupcake?” he murmurs, his voice low.

  “Yes,” I gasp.

  “That’s how I know you’re gonna be okay.”

  His hips piston into mine, driving away every other thought, chasing away my doubts and my fears. It’s just me and Cross and the humid marshlands and the feelings churning between us.

  My legs are shaking from the effort of staying upright, my whole body buzzing with pleasure. Cross drapes himself over me again, his hand moving unerringly to my clit before he begins to circle it in the same tempo he’s fucking me.

  “I know I’m an asshole sometimes,” he grunts, the sharp slapping sound of our flesh punctuating his words. “But you handle me. You love me. And I fucking love you.”

  As he finishes speaking, he slams into me one more time, grinding his hips against my ass as his cock throbs inside me. My stomach clenches tight, pleasure gathering in my lower belly. And then, with another brush of his fingers, Cross makes that pleasure explode outward, rushing through my body like a tidal wave. A cry falls from me, and this time I don’t bother biting my lip to keep it quiet.

  I quake in his arms, my knees buckling as I come so hard I see stars.

  Cross keeps a tight hold on me as we both stumble forward, plastering ourselves to the tree. He’s still buried inside me, and I’m pinned between him and the tree again as our hearts beat out a syncopated rhythm.

  For a few moments, we stay like that, and then finally Cross pulls out of me, turning me around to face him as I lean against the trunk, caged in by his arms.

  Intense blue-green eyes stare down at me.

  “Feel better now?”

  Chapter 21

  I do, in fact, feel better.

  The constriction in my chest is gone, and it feels like a bit of pressure’s been released. I’m also sticky from sweat and humidity and Cross’s cum, but I’ll deal with that in a minute.

  And now that my brain isn’t clouded by panic, I realize I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that. He was trying to help me lighten up, trying to get me to believe in myself, and I just went off on him.

  “Yes.” I nod. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

  Cross takes my face in his hands, in a tender way completely unlike the hard, animalistic fuck we just had, and kisses me softly.

&nbs
p; “I should probably be the one to apologize,” he murmurs. “I was being a bit of an ass. But I’m not going to, and I won’t take your apology either, cupcake—because we needed that. And if this is what happens when we push each other’s buttons, well…” His crooked grin is sinful. “I’m not really sorry at all.”

  I can’t help but laugh a little as I lean up and kiss him. Cross can be rough around the edges, and he might be a lot for some people to handle. But he’s right. I can handle him. And what’s more, I like to. He brings out a side of me I didn’t even know existed until I met him—brash, stubborn, fierce.

  And that’s a side I’m definitely going to need as I face whatever the universe has in store for me.

  “We should go back,” Cross murmurs into my mouth. He pulls away, and his expression grows serious as he brushes a damp tendril of hair off my face. “Knowledge is power, cupcake. We’re more powerful now than we were before. And that’s a good thing. Even if it’s scary as fuck.”

  Ugh, he’s right.

  I’m still kind of panicking at the idea of me being the real subject of the prophecy, and the whole prophecy thing in general, but at least now I know what’s going on, and that’s a good thing. Knowing the truth can only help us. And, bonus, this means the cult is going after the wrong person. They think Roxie is the subject of the prophecy. That means they’ll keep focusing on her, and I can focus on fixing things and finding a way to change the prophecy, if that’s even possible.

  I can’t quite shut up the voice in my head that points out the whole “the more you try to stop a prophecy, the more likely you are to make it happen” thing. Roxie thought the prophecy was about her, so she fled to my world, which brought me here, which means that now I’m closer to fulfilling the prophecy. I have magic now, and I’ve been interacting with this world a lot, flipping back and forth. All because Roxie tried to stop it.

  So… avoiding my destiny obviously hasn’t been going great so far.

  But I can’t let panic or anger win. I have to see this through. Madame Mulfrey said there would be a chance for me to stop this, and I’m going to take that chance.