Reckless Witch: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Illumina Academy Book 1)

by Tarah Scott

  I blink, shocked. I hadn’t expected anyone to mention Grams, let alone the Grand Witch. She knew Grams? Grams never mentioned that. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. The Grand Witch grasps my hand. Her fingers are warm, strong, and she radiates a kindness that robs me of my desire to demand answers concerning the Illumina’s seizure of Grams’ house.

  “Thank you,” I say as I shake her hand.

  A tear slips down her cheek and I tense when her eyes search my face. “You have your grandmother’s eyes.” She smiles and I detect a hint of dry humor as she glances at the sigil on my hand and adds, “And, clearly, her passion.”

  I jerk my gaze onto Ethan. Even as relaxed as he appears, he dominates the stage. An electric current zips from the hairs on the back of my neck to the base of my spine. It takes me a second to yank my mind back to the conversation. What were we talking about? Right, the damn sigil that has marked me as a troublemaker.

  How do I reply? “Grams was special,” I say.

  “Indeed, she was.” So many secrets swirl in her voice, but in a Grand Witch, that’s got to be expected.

  I suddenly want to demand answers. If anyone knows what really happened to Grams and why the Illumina took possession of her home—my home—the Grand Witch does. Hope surges. Of all people, a Grand Witch is sure to understand the connection between two witches…granddaughter and grandmother. She will understand that Grams’ home is mine. Maybe the Illumina seized the house not thinking I would return?

  “Justice shall prevail,” she says.

  My heart speeds up. Has she discerned my thoughts? Does she really understand? Will she release the house to me?

  Her expression brightens. “But today is about you, child, is it not? Touch the Stone and let us see what The Academy has to say of you.”

  I frown, confused for a moment, then realize what she’s said. “The Academy actually speaks?”

  “The keep is the heart of The Academy,” Headmaster Domini says with a slight Italian accent. His deep voice sounds exactly like it should for a man with deep and sexy looks. He’s overwhelmingly male—and so very familiar. “This is where the Stone lives.”

  I’m dimly aware of Ethan’s scrutiny as I ask the headmaster, “Have we met?”

  His eyes light with amusement. “I don’t see how, Miss Crowe. Unless you’ve visited Italy?”

  His voice rumbles through me, sinfully delicious, but I’m sure he’s lying. Still, I feel drawn to him in a way I can’t explain, like a moth to a flame…a flame hellbent on burning the moth to a crisp. The strength of my response makes me uneasy and I step back.

  “The Stone. Touch it,” Ethan urges.

  I turn toward the dragon and find myself drawn toward him, as well. Fuck, what’s wrong with me? I’m like a cat in heat. He’s all strength and hard muscle and every cell in my body forgets the headmaster in favor of the dragon energy sweeping over me. That’s the thing about dragons. They’re bigger than life. They leave no room for anyone else. The edges of the silver tattoos visible beyond his shirt cuff call to my fingers like a siren. Then I remember his sigil has jolted me one damn time too many and I’m back to being pissed.

  “Today sometime?” Ethan arches a brow.

  The Grand Witch smiles. “Touch the Stone and your name and clan will appear as proof of your acceptance.”

  I turn my attention to the black slab. “I thought my name had already appeared on the Stone.” I slant a narrow-eyed glance at Ethan. “Isn’t that why I was invited?”

  “Correct,” the Grand Witch replies. “But we must be sure of your identity. We cannot risk anyone impersonating a student.” Her gaze shifts to the Stone and a soft emotion fills her eyes. “The Stone is imbued with magic as ancient as the Shadow attack in Greek fifteen hundred years ago.”

  So, there’s a chance—a big chance—I’ll get booted out on my ass. What are the chances I could get any answers before they kick me out? I hesitate, then brush my palm over the cool surface of the Stone. The sigil burns. I withdraw my hand. As expected, nothing. A vision flares of Ethan grasping my arm and escorting me off the stage to the front gate.

  The three of them study the Stone, brows drawn. My heart takes a dive. I don’t want to be here, but I had counted on getting answers before I leave. Damn the Illumina—

  Letters of luminescent white fire flicker on that shiny black surface. I take an involuntary step back. A series of names appear, names I don’t recognize. Ciarah, Brin. Emma. Nova.

  Ethan draws a sharp breath. He knows he’s made a mistake. I’m not the High Potential he claimed. My mind races. Shit, shit, shit. Now, I’ve got to…

  New letters form the name Leilah Crowe. My breath catches. I stare at the name in disbelief. It’s really true? I’m a High Potential? I’d known from a young girl that I was a powerful witch. Grams made sure I understood the responsibilities that accompanied my abilities. But a High Potential? The name scrolls upwards to make room for the clan name Longthorpe. I open my mouth to speak, then freeze as another clan name appears: Penncarrow. I frown. Ethan and Headmaster Domini frown, too.

  “What is this?” the Grand Witch demands, but before anyone can answer, the names Middlewich and Silwood appear on the Stone. “This is…” her voice trails away.

  As the silence drags, my heart speeds up. It takes a lot to stump an Illumina Grand Witch. It takes a lot to catch me off guard.

  “Something’s off with your precious Stone,” I mutter.

  “No,” Ethan murmurs, but he’s looking at the Grand Witch. “She’s connected to all four clans.”

  “This is impossible. Who are the other names?” The Grand Witch looks at me. “Do you know these people?”

  I shake my head. “Never heard of them.”

  She studies me for a long moment and I feel the subtle probe of magic. A truth spell, no doubt.

  She abruptly swings her gaze onto the headmaster. “Domini? Isn’t this impossible?”

  He’s still staring at the Stone. “Apparently not.”

  “The Illumina Stone does not err,” Ethan says.

  I’m not convinced, not with the succession of names I’d seen, but I’m not about to rock the boat. I have no desire for Ethan to slap another sigil on me. The current of power radiating at the base of my spine makes me shift in growing discomfort and I wonder if the magic in his sigil is running amok.

  “But, of course, Miriam Crowe’s granddaughter would prove the most unusual student,” the Grand Witch says with a laugh that doesn’t quite sound genuine.

  “As each clan has claimed you, you’ll have rights to access each tower,” Ethan informs me.

  He stares down at me through half lowered eyelids with a strange look that starts a tingling in my stomach. I force my gaze from his eyes and wince at how downright hot my ass is getting.

  As the Grand Witch calls the next student, Headmaster Domini motions me to him. I walk to him and, as he escorts me to the stairs, he says, “Student Crowe, take your rightful place within these hallowed halls.” We reach the stairs and Domini drops a hand on my shoulder. My awareness skitters atop my arms. “Welcome, Leilah. Go through that door.” He nods toward the door the other students exited through.

  I descend the stairs. Unable to stop myself, I look over my shoulder. He’s watching me, eyes intense. Damn, the man is fine. I turn to face forward and catch sight of Ethan staring, brow cocked. I continue toward the door. I’ll deal with him later, and demand he remove his sigil now that I’m officially enrolled.

  I force myself through the door and into the next room. A variety of low, curving couches are clustered around potted trees in the large room. Crystals hang from a high ceiling. There’s lots of light, and the whole place makes me feel like I’m standing in a hotel lobby.

  Before I can take another step, a zap radiates from the base of my spine to my buttocks with a sizzle; the exact same discomfort I’ve experienced all morning. Am I having some kind of allergic reaction to the damn sigil?

  I hurry past my fellow
students in search of a bathroom and enter a hallway that stretches out longer than the square keep should allow. Fucking Academy magic. I walk past closed doors. My sigil stirs as if it’s getting ready to zap me back on track.

  “You can just kiss my a—” I stop, mid-curse.

  As understanding sinks in, my ass takes the full force of my backfired spell. I’d cursed Ethan on the train. Something about his fucking power kissing my ass.

  “This is not a kiss,” I growl as pain radiates deep inside my butt muscles. I’ll blister at this rate.

  When will I ever fucking learn? Wishing others ill has never failed to bite me in the… No, I don’t dare think that blasted word. The way the curse is building, I’m headed for real trouble unless I can break the spell fast. I concentrate. After a minute, I recall mint is used to sooth rogue magic.

  The sigil begins to heat. “I’m here at the fucking Academy,” I shout at it.

  With an extra urgency to my step, I begin trying doors but they’re locked. At last, an unlocked door. A classroom and—thank God—it’s empty. My backside is burning now and it’s all I can do to keep from ripping off my jeans and running through the halls in my thong. The classroom is filled with desks, but not a single herb. I hurry from the room and glimpse an exit sign in the hallway. I’m intent upon cornering the first student I encounter in order to demand directions to the infirmary before my clothes ignite.

  I pass an open doorway and I’m flooded with relief. The shelves are lined with jars of herbs. A potion classroom. I kick the door shut and shove my jeans down my hips. I kick them aside as I stumble to the shelves and scan the labeled jars. St. John’s Wort. Mustard Seed. Ashwagandha. Hell, where is the mint? Tears sting as I bend down, still searching. Then, I see a jar labeled mint.

  “Halla-fucking-lu-yah,” I sing, and grab the jar.

  In my haste, I fumble the lid. It falls to the floor and rolls away. I grab a handful of mint and rub it on my ass. The heat begins to cool. I slap some on the damn sigil, as well, then rub more on my ass.

  I freeze when the door creaks open behind me.

  Chapter Eight

  ETHAN

  Better Than Gold

  Fire warms my chest as I track Leilah through the hallway. She has no business being here in the Restricted Zone. We haven’t finished cleaning residue from the magic spill last week when Professor Cornwall’s students lost control.

  Strange, how the Stone picked up all Leilah’s past identities in the four clans. I didn’t miss her name, Ciarah, being the first. Leilah hadn’t understood, of course. Neither had Olympia and her new pet, Headmaster Domini. No one knows of the relationship we’ve shared with Ciarah in her many incarnations. Blade, Clan Silwood. Raith, Clan Longthorpe. Myself and Caleb, Clan Penncarrow. As for Middlewich? Matthias, as Gargoyle, claimed kinship to that clan. She’s part of all of us. Somehow, the Stone knew.

  I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and locate her scent coming from the Advanced Potions Class. Leilah’s a loose cannon, but her sheer raw power is impressive. I’m irritated, but can’t deny the pride I feel that she’s managed to bulldoze her way through the wards set in the Restricted Zone. How the hell did she power through that level of pain?

  I open the door, half expecting to find her passed out on the floor. Instead, she’s at the shelves, bent over, and I’m presented with the finest view of her perfect ass. It’s hard to count that barely-there, wisp of a lace thong as a legitimate article of clothing.

  I growl and my dragon blood roars. “What are you doing?” I start toward her. “This area is restricted.”

  She whirls, eyes wide in embarrassment. Still, she doesn’t attempt to hide, but stands straight as I stop before her. Dragon fire answers the defiance in her eyes. I tower over her, needing to yank that thong aside and taste her. I smell her desire. She’s responding to me on that soul level we’ve always shared. She’s as much a beast as I am.

  “This is your fault.” Leilah thrusts a handful of mint beneath my nose. “You and your damn sigil.”

  I sense the magic running riot over her skin. It’s concentrated on that firm ass of hers. “That’s none of my doing,” I say. That spell is hers and hers alone.

  “Your sigil has caused me nothing but problems.”

  Her heartbeat quickens. There are only a few buttons separating our beasts. My tattoos rise, some already shifting into armor. I’m dangerously close to taking that first step to slake our mutual desire and, once I step on that road, we won’t stop. We never have. As for Raith and Blade…well, I’ve done my duty. I’ve informed them. They know she’s back. The rest is going to happen, just as it always has.

  I lean an inch closer and whisper, “I put a mark on your hand, not your ass.” Yet. I can and will put a second one on her ass.

  “Take this sigil off. Now,” she demands. “I’m done.”

  Raith won’t say a word if I make love to her, but he will be furious if I remove the sigil. He’s right. She can’t be allowed to run around the school with that much power at her disposal, not when her temper runs so hot. There’s another reason I won’t remove the sigil, one that makes my dragon growl. The satisfaction I feel at seeing my mark on her flesh, the next best thing to a mating mark.

  “Now,” Leilah repeats.

  “No. You need a little…” I lean closer to breathe the one word I know will infuriate her animalistic side the most, “taming.”

  The power that surges through her doesn’t disappoint. It’s all I can do to keep from flipping her around to bury my cock deep inside that tight channel of hers, the one I smell growing wetter by the second.

  “Taming?” her voice is dangerous.

  “I’ll compromise.” There’s no way she can miss the lust in my voice. “I’ll remove the curse you’re trying to break. What was it?”

  She hesitates.

  “Or not.” I crook a smile.

  “Fine,” her voice turns waspish. Ciarah never did like to lose. She lifts her chin. “I simply said, You and your power could kiss my ass.”

  I’ll kiss her ass and more. I would start with running my hands over her smooth backside and not stop until I’m inside her, where I belong.

  “Turn around. I’ll remove your curse.”

  She hesitates. The way her lashes dip signals she knows where this is going. She turns. God, she’s gorgeous. There’s no outer sign of her discomfort but I feel the strength of her spell even without touching that smooth skin. With such power running in her veins, her magic finds it hard to leave her. I wonder if she knows that’s why her spells backfire. Blade will have to teach her proper focus.

  I drop my gaze to the thong that disappears between her ass cheeks, caressing the parts of her that I will soon caress. My fingers twitch, wanting to slide that soft scrap of lace aside to pillow my hardened cock there. Flesh on flesh. It’s been so long. She’s better than gold. I inhale the scent of her hair, vanilla, then place my hands on her hips. Her magic flows up over my arms, teasing my tattoos.

  That’s all the invitation I need.

  Chapter Nine

  LEILAH

  Day One

  This isn’t how I imagined my first day at The Academy. The famed Ethan Bordeau fucking me in a classroom. I knew dragons were sexual, but I had no idea just how sexual. Animalistic. Raw. I arch my back and push against him. His cock is rock hard—and huge. He grasps my hips and I draw a sharp breath when the fingers gently squeeze. I need him.

  His hands slide over my skin and leave blessed coolness in their wake. A new heat builds that sends a different electrical current straight to my core. I close my eyes and will his fingers lower. He slips a finger under the lace of my thong and I draw a sharp breath at the warmth of his touch.

  The classroom door creaks open.

  A shocked female gasp is followed by, “Commander Bordeau!”

  I whirl as Ethan steps back. I want to melt through the floor. Miss Mack gapes, her horn-rimmed glasses balanced precariously on the tip of her nose. Fury swirls
in her expression. She’s angry—with me.

  Fuck. She has the hots for Ethan.

  “Miss Mack.” Ethan graces her with a casual nod.

  He doesn’t explain, and I don’t look at him as I take two steps and scoop my jeans from the floor. Miss Mack watches me, eyes narrowed and clearly thinking the worst…but the worst is exactly what Ethan and I had in mind. Why couldn’t she have come fifteen minutes later? No, half an hour. This dragon had been in no hurry. God have mercy.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Student Crowe,” Miss Mack snaps.

  “I was just leaving,” I lie.

  “You should be with the other students, touring your clan dorm.”

  “On it,” I say, then pause. “Which clan is that?” I had ranked in all of them.

  Miss Mack’s expression fills with contempt. “The clan on the Stone, of course.” Her tone clearly states just how stupid she judges me to be.

  I turn to Ethan. He’s leaning a shoulder against the shelves, arms crossed over his broad chest. Heat floods my core. What had I wanted to ask him? I blink. The clans.

  A corner of his mouth twitches in amusement. “You will be assigned a clan,” he says.

  Is he making fun of me?

  “You should go, Ms. Crowe,” Miss Mack snaps.

  Ethan flicks a cool gaze her way. Poor woman. She’s obviously out of her league. She’s not his type. He’s raw, animalistic…my type. His eyes return to me. My breath catches. His dragon energy promises we’re not finished. He straightens, walks past me without a word, and passes through the door. I follow before Miss Mack corners me.

  By the time I reach the lobby-like waiting room, I glimpse a line of students outside the open left-hand door. I hurry outside to join them, curiosity over which clan I’m saddled with momentarily displacing memories of Ethan’s thick cock pressed against my ass.

  A tall, good looking guy steps up and waves his arm. “If I call your name, please stand over here.” He motions to his right.