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

by Tarah Scott

  He glances at his watch. “Get Hamish to fill in for Ethan’s afternoon classes and have him help with the investigation.”

  “Ethan is guarding Leilah’s room,” I say.

  He looks sharply at me. “You didn’t reinforce the spell around her room?”

  “I did. But she’s too damn resourceful. Ethan and I agree that someone has to keep watch on her.” I wonder if Ethan is making love to her. I was a fool not to take her into my bed before they discovered she was back.

  Raith stares straight ahead and walks a little faster. “We can’t stop her if she wants to leave.”

  “Actually, we can. She’s agreed to a blood pact with us.”

  A corner of his mouth curls upward. “I have no intention of making a blood pact with her.”

  “It will force her to keep her word, and we can remove Ethan’s sigil from her hand. That will give her back the use of her magic.” I brace for an argument, but he goes quiet. I know enough to let him think.

  “She shouldn’t be practicing magic,” he finally says.

  “The devil, you say.”

  “She needs to grow up,” he replies.

  “She’s twenty-two,” I say, though I know that’s not what he means. “You intend to make her pay for a perceived treachery.”

  “It isn’t perceived,” he snaps. “She openly betrayed me. That has nothing to do with this situation.”

  “Lie to yourself, Raith, but don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me.”

  “You and Ethan are so afraid of losing her that she’s got you both wrapped around her finger.”

  I laugh. “I happen to like being wrapped around her finger. Don’t take part in the blood pact. But, at least, be honest with yourself. I don’t know what all the fuss is about. You’re nearly already there. You drank her blood.”

  “That isn’t the same.”

  “Drinking her blood has done you good.”

  He casts me a narrow-eyed look.

  “You can’t blame me for speaking the truth,” I say.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  LEILAH

  Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t.

  Grams taught me that magic is everywhere just waiting to be unearthed, and once a person understands that, it’s a simple matter to set it free. My first memory of her telling me that, I was three and a half years old. Her voice still rings clear in my head: “Don’t let anyone tell you magic has to be complicated. Some is—that’s necessary—but most is peeking out from its hiding place begging for us to remove it’s constraints.”

  Big words for a little kid, but I eventually understood. Obviously, not well enough.

  I’ve spent the last three hours since my final class staring at Grams’ spell book. The desk light is the only light on in my room and shines directly on the open pages. The magic contained in the book hasn’t so much as sent up the wisp of a smoke signal. I shouldn’t be surprised. Grams was a tangle of contradictions—something I think she reveled in—and she probably had a big laugh at the thought of someone trying to decipher her spells after she was gone.

  I would laugh, if not for the dread heavy in my stomach. Magic isn’t needed to tell me this book holds the spells she was using in the end. I should hand the book over to the Illumina. A single question stops me: why hide light magic?

  I stare at the foreign marks on the open pages. How do I persuade the letters to rearrange into coherent words for me? I glance at the sigil on my hand. The damn thing hasn’t yet acted up. But, then, I haven’t tried real magic. I’ve repeated a few incantations, requesting aid from nature spirits, with no luck. Should I try pushing through the sigil? If the spells are…not quite right, will I set off warning bells? Without my magic, I might not be able to put a halt to anything that goes wrong.

  Blade said they would remove the sigil if I agree to the blood pact. He caught up with me between classes and told me we were on for tonight. I said okay, but, truth is, I’m not sure I’ll go through with the rite.

  I made one blood pact in my life. I was twelve; he was sixteen. Seton, the big brother I never had. With a laugh I can still hear, he finally gave into my pestering. While any blood pact is powerful, we made several large mistakes that lessened the power of the pact. I suspect Seton knew that, but said nothing.

  The confusion—and desire—I experienced when Blade caught me returning to my room yesterday has dissipated and, now that I’ve had time to think, I’m wary of making a pact with The Three. I feel pretty sure that instructors—especially Blade, Ethan and Raith—don’t go around making blood pacts with students, which makes me suspicious.

  Blood pacts are usually created between spouses, family members, or friends who knew one another in a past life. The last possibility sends a wave of chills from my feet all the way up my body and makes my scalp tighten like sun-dried leather.

  This is bad. Very bad.

  “Fudge,” I mutter.

  I rarely have such an extreme physical reaction, but, when I do, it means something big—something very big. Is it possible I knew these men in another life? I think back to the night I met Blade, two days after I’d arrived in New York. He sat down at my table, as casually as he had the night Ethan put the sigil on my arm, and flirted shamelessly. Blade always flirts shamelessly, but he never follows through with me—and Blade is capable of following through.

  The night we met, we talked into the wee hours of the night. I found him incredibly attractive, but was oddly relieved when he didn’t ask me to go home with him. He put me in a cab and paid the driver to take me home. I remember wondering if the world knew what a gentleman he is.

  But he really isn’t a gentleman. He’s more the ‘Tonight is all I have to give, baby’ sort of man rather than the ‘send a woman home safely in a cab’ kind of guy. So, why was he so sweet with me?

  Why does he lurk outside my dorm? He probably doesn’t think I see him among the trees to the left of Penncarrow Hall. I might not have noticed him if I’d had anything to do other than watch the grass grow. Is it really possible we knew each other in another life? Maybe I knew him but not Ethan or Raith? I laugh. Raith dislikes me enough to have previously known me. Maybe I wronged him in another life. God, if that’s so, then he really can hold a grudge. Vampires have a reputation for being unforgiving.

  I release a breath. This last week has gotten me nothing but trouble. Raith said I could leave—if I’m willing to give up my magic. If I give up magic, I won’t be in danger from The Shadows—only from criminals who have harnessed Shadow power. That’s one helluva trade-off.

  I look at the book. Without magic, I will never know what’s in this book.

  Who would I be without magic? What would I do? Get a nine to five job at some office. Party on weekends and, one day, settle down and have kids. My stomach sours. That’s no life for me. I’m too old to become a James Bond agent and too young to settle for a dreary day job.

  My choices are: one, wait powerless in this room, thanks to the damn sigil, until The Three find my would-be killer. Two, renounce magic. Three, enter into a blood pact with The Three. If I didn’t know better, I would think they’d planned this. I sit up straight. Is that possible?

  No. The stark fear on Blade and Ethan’s faces couldn’t be faked. So why suggest a blood pact? Why not just keep me locked in this room? A tremor ripples through my stomach. What might it be like to share a blood pact with Blade? I can see myself falling in love with the guy. Hell, I’m in lust with him, as it is. He’s kind, and I’ve glimpsed the loyal man beneath the playboy exterior.

  What had he said? “I call being surrounded by people who love you ‘home.’”

  Love? People you love? What the hell was he talking about? I might wish a man like him would want me, really want me, but I have no illusions. I’m not that special. But a man in love doesn’t refer to himself as people.

  This is crazy. When Blade talked about home, he clearly meant The Academy. Difficult as it is to believe, hardened playboy Blade Tyrion is a se
ntimental man.

  I snort. Leave it to the Fae to be the biggest badass sentimentalists. That’s the Fae paradox. An unexpected affection warms me. Shit, he actually cares about me.

  I place the hand with the sigil on the book and give a slight push of my magic. The sigil heats. I release the magic. If I agree to the blood pact, they will remove the sigil and I can find out what’s in this book.

  This book is the closest I’m going to get to hearing the truth from Grams herself.

  Dare I?

  A chill replaces the dread.

  I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  LEILAH

  Three’s cozy. Four’s a crowd.

  No surprise that the moon is full. The universe has a way of providing what’s needed, and a full moon adds strength to any magic. Walking between Ethan and Blade feels more like an escort to the electric chair than safe passage to where we will enact the blood pact. From the corner of my eye, I look at Blade, who winks. I manage to halt an eye roll, but can’t stop the embarrassment that warms my cheeks. How does he always seem to know when I’m watching him?

  I covertly glance left at Ethan. He’s scanning our surroundings, watching, I realize, for danger. They tell me they have no leads on my attacker. I suspect, they’re not above lying. If Ethan is right and the spear magic was elemental, he assures me that discounts Jennifer, Ariel and Thomas. But that doesn’t mean they don’t know someone who is powerful enough to wield that kind of magic.

  “Where are we performing the ritual?” I ask.

  “In the woods.” Blade tilts his head toward the front gate.

  I give a slight nod. “Excellent choice.”

  He raises a brow. “Glad you approve.”

  I know the reason they chose the woods is because they won’t risk the magic bleeding into The Academy. “You’re not afraid the elements will play tricks?”

  “You know your magic,” Blade says.

  I snort. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” A total lie. “Everyone knows that a spell performed in nature opens a door to tricksters.”

  “What’s life without adventure?” Blade murmurs.

  Butterflies skitter across the insides of my stomach. The man has no shame.

  Ethan presses a hand to the small of my back. My heart—and body—wish that action indicated more than simple courtesy. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe he’s just making sure I don’t bolt.

  We leave the sidewalk and start down the drive. Moments later, the gate comes into view.

  “I want to read the contract,” I say.

  “As Blade told you, it’s simple,” Ethan says. You agree not to run away.”

  I lift a brow. “That’s it?”

  “You also agree to ask permission before leaving The Academy,” Blade says.

  There’s the catch.

  This is way worse than what I remember of high school.

  “Why should I agree to the blood pact?” I say, and try not to think of the spell book.

  Ethan looks sharply at me. “What do you mean?”

  I shrug. “If I only have to contend with your sigil and Blade’s spell around my dorm room, I have a chance of getting out every now and then. Your terms are way more constricting.”

  “You can have Stony,” Blade says.

  I narrow my eyes.” That’s dirty pool.”

  He shrugs. “So is you running away every time we turn our backs.”

  “Not every turn,” I say, oddly offended.

  “Twice in seven days—and you’re talking about doing it again.”

  “I came back.” I narrow my eyes. “How many other students have you made blood pacts with?”

  “How many other students have assassins hunting them?” Ethan shoots back.

  I shrug. “I would kill Jennifer, given the chance.”

  Blade lifts his brows.

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay, maybe I would just maim her.”

  “I told you she needs to grow up,” Raith says from the shadows.

  I jump when he materializes on the lawn to my right, and I come to a halt.

  “You scared the bejesus out of me,” I exclaim, then realize what he said. “Hey, I’m plenty grownup.”

  “My offer to strip your magic still stands,” he says.

  “No chance,” I growl.

  “You can have a normal life,” he continues. “Go to school, get a job, get married. Have kids, if you want them.”

  “I can do all that and keep my magic.” Had the guy heard my earlier thoughts?

  “You’ll still have to stay here for at least four years,” he says. “Then there’s always the chance the Illumina will assign you a job.”

  “Offer me a job,” I correct. “This is still a free country.”

  He gives a low laugh. “America is free. Margidda—High Potentials—not so much.”

  “Fuck you, Raith,” I reply evenly.

  He shrugs. “Then a blood pact, it is.” He steps closer and I tilt my head back in order to maintain eye contact. “Be warned,” he murmurs. “I will ensure you adhere to the terms of the agreement.”

  “You have some special terms you want to add to the pact?” I shouldn’t goad him, but I can’t help myself. His eyes darken and I manage not to step back. Shit, he’s pissed.

  “You aren’t capable of handling any special terms I might add,” he says.

  “Coward,” I whisper. Sure, that was stupid, but he’s a bully and I hate bullies.

  “Friday nights,” he says.

  I blink. “Huh?

  “Raith,” Blade and Ethan say in unison.

  “She thinks she’s grown up and she wants to play with the big boys,” Raith answers them, but his eyes remain on me.

  “So, what? I’m supposed to be your sex slave every Friday night?” is my sarcastic retort.

  His lips lift in lazy arrogance. “We see where your mind is, Ms. Crowe.”

  “I—” Heat suffuses my cheeks.

  “Friday night will be devoted to studies,” he says.

  “Studies?” What the fuck? “You want me to promise to study?”

  “With me as your tutor,” he says.

  Despite my immediate repulsion, my stomach flip-flops. “We’re talking the study of magic?” my voice is breathy and I want to kick myself.

  “And whatever else I deem necessary,” he replies.

  “Raith,” Ethan growls.

  I tense when the tattoos visible below the cuffs of Evan’s sleeves begin to glow.

  “What do you say, Leilah?” Raith asks. I hesitate, and he adds, “Who’s the coward now?”

  Ethan’s tattoos glow hotter.

  “Relax, Ethan,” Raith says, eyes still on me. “I’m not going to hurt her. Just teach her a lesson or two.”

  “Maybe it will be me who teaches you a lesson,” I retort. God, I’m a complete idiot.

  He shrugs and I want to slap him.

  “I get Stony,” I say.

  Surprise flickers across his face. “The howling night pig?” His lips thin and he glances at Ethan. “I imagine I know who to thank for that stipulation.”

  “The howling night pig will protect her,” Ethan says, and I know he’s not just talking of protecting me from my would-be killer.

  That makes me want to laugh, but I manage some restraint and settle for giving Raith a big smile.

  “Let’s get on with it, then,” he says.

  Without a word, I start walking toward the gate. Blade catches up with me and Raith and Ethan walk several paces behind, speaking in tones too low for me to hear despite straining my ears.

  “Give it up,” Blade says.

  I snap my head up to meet his gaze, and say dumbly, “What?”

  He gives a little shake of his head.

  I say, “You know they’re talking about me. I have a right to know what they’re saying.”

  He emits the same laugh he gave when he caught me returning to my room. “You keep talking about your rights.
”

  I grasp his arm and stop him. “I’m not your or their slave. I have the same rights as every other student in the school.”

  Raith and Ethan reach us as Blade says,” You don’t have the right to risk your life.”

  “I do,” I snap.

  “No one here at The Academy is allowed to risk their lives,” Ethan says, but I have the odd feeling he’s mentally adding, especially you.

  “Then what the hell are you teaching us?” I demand.

  Raith passes me. “How to stay alive.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  ETHAN

  Blood Pact

  I flank Leilah’s side so closely, I can feel the warmth from her body. By the time we reach the small clearing Blade prepared for the ritual, the moon is nearing its zenith. Crickets and frogs play a magnificent symphony that calls to the fire straining to break free of my will. In the center of a circle of rocks lies a neatly stacked pile of leaves and twigs. A knife, one snow white cloth, and a sheath of paper half covered by the cloth lay beside the pyre.

  We stop beside the circle and Raith and Blade look at me. I extend my hand, palm up. The command for fire barely forms in my head and the tattoos in my body heat as a baseball-sized ball of fire bursts to life on my open palm. For two heartbeats, I revel in the heat and beauty of the flame, then, with the merest of breaths, I blow the sphere into the pyre. The wood and leaves ignite with an audible whoosh.

  The nighttime symphony falls silent, but my blood heats in anticipation of the blood pact. I haven’t said anything to Blade or Raith, but I believe the pact might connect us to Ciarah in a way that could release her memories of our many lives together. I can’t begin to understand what that might mean for us—except that we will no longer have to pretend. That possibility alone heats my fire.

  How much hotter will my fire burn during lovemaking when Ciarah knows me, really knows me? How much more devastating will that knowledge be when we lose her again? Maybe, if she remembers us in this life, she will take those memories with her into the next life. Maybe, if she remembers, we will be able to hold onto her longer. Always, has her life come to a tragic end before its time.