Supernatural Academy: Sophomore Witch

by Ingrid Seymour

  I took another step forward, my heart beating so fast I felt embarrassed. With his enhanced hearing, he could surely hear it and sense how much he affected me, how eager I’d been to see him, and how glad I was to finally be close to him. Alone.

  So much for keeping it cool.

  He took a step back, and I felt my insides crumple.

  Clearly, he wasn’t as happy to find himself alone with me.

  I hadn’t forgotten our heated kiss over the Christmas break, the connection I’d thought we’d shared. But that had been... eight months ago. A flush rushed up to my neck, and I lowered my eyes. I was so stupid to assume this kiss had meant the same to him. He probably kissed girls like that all the time, and it meant nothing. It just—

  “You don’t have to be scared of me,” he said. “I would never hurt you.”

  My gaze darted up to his. Scared? Oh, God. He’d taken a step back because he thought my rapidly-beating heart meant I was afraid of him.

  “I’m not scared of you, Rowan,” I said.

  He narrowed his eyes, distrustful.

  “I’m…” I hesitated, not sure if I should open up to him so thoroughly. But if I wanted to help him, maybe that was what it would take.

  “In case I didn’t make that clear in your father’s office, I’m actually happy to see you. Excited, really,” I said, with a crooked smirk. “I thought about you all summer long.”

  “You did?”

  I nodded reluctantly.

  He frowned, his eyes searching my face as if he hoped to spot a lie there. I lifted my chin and let him discover the truth instead.

  Hesitantly, he moved closer, close enough to touch.

  “I did, too,” he admitted, sending my heart into a skittering frenzy. “I wanted to see you, but I didn’t know if you would…” he trailed off, breaking eye contact and glancing off to the side.

  “If I would what?” I asked, touching a finger to the side of his face, with a boldness I didn’t know I possessed, forcing him to look at me. Just this slightest touch of skin on skin sent shivers down my spine. There was that scent again, something raw and intoxicating that made my head swim as if I’d guzzled Witch’s Brew and it was rapidly heating up my insides.

  A muscle jumped in his jaw as he tightened his lips into a thin line.

  I took a guess. “You didn’t know if I would still like you as a vampire?”

  He assented with a dip of his eyes.

  I blew air through my nose and smiled.

  “You’re still Rowan,” I said, taking another step closer, one that put me but two inches away from him. “And I do…” I swallowed thickly, “still like you. Very much.”

  He let out a pent up breath, and I was pleasantly surprised to know I could have that effect on him.

  After a short pause, he spoke. “I drink blood, Charlie.” He lay a frigid hand on my cheek.

  I flinched, taken aback by its cutting chill.

  “I’m cold,” he continued. “Dead.” He pronounced the word under his breath, his lower lip trembling, his bottomless eyes drilling into mine. “How can you be attracted to that?”

  It was clear to me what he was trying to do. Well, I wasn’t going to let him and, knowing that words wouldn’t make a difference, I opted for something more drastic.

  Throwing all caution to the wind, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his.

  To my utter disappointment, he didn’t reciprocate.

  A hollow space opened inside of me. I stepped back. Talk about awkward. I tried to decide if I should bolt out of the room or think up some excuse to try to save what was left of my dignity.

  He regarded me for a long moment, a mixture of emotions washing over his pale features. He wouldn’t let me in. Maybe his pain was too much. Maybe self-loathing would keep him from letting anyone close.

  Then he rushed into me, his lips crashing into mine and sending all my fear out the window.

  He pulled me against his hard body, one hand weaving into my hair, the other at the small of my back. His insistent lips moved over mine, exploring, igniting all the passion I’d been storing since the first time we kissed.

  I wrapped my hands behind his neck and pressed myself harder against him. I groaned in pleasure, which seemed to strike a chord inside of him because he pushed me down onto the bed, sending his duffle bag flying against the opposite wall with a fling of his arm.

  The aggression should’ve scared me, but instead, I found my heart beating faster as I pulled him toward me.

  He pressed against me, one hand sliding under my T-shirt and up my side, sending electricity into every corner of my being. I ran a hand around his biceps and back, feeling every muscle, marveling at their perfection.

  His tongue caressed my lower lip, then slipped inside my mouth, its velvety touch sending a pang of desire into my belly. His body rocked once. I arched against him, digging my nails into his back. A rumble of desire sounded in the back of his throat.

  This passion was new. This intensity. It lit my brain on fire with possibility. The old Rowan turned me on. The new Rowan reduced me down to one trembling nerve, begging to be touched. I was thrilled and a bit frightened at how badly I needed him and what I was willing to do to keep him on top of me with his hands gripping my naked skin.

  Trailing kisses along my jaw, he dipped lower, his tongue sliding down my neck, sending waves of want through my body. He inhaled sharply, a halting intake of breath that made him shudder.

  Abruptly, he stopped and pulled away, his chest visibly rising and falling. He stared at my lips, a terrible hunger in his expression like he was starving and I was the last bit of food left in the world.

  I should have been afraid. Terrified, actually. But I wasn’t. In fact, I wanted more. I wanted it all. I pulled him down, going for another kiss, but he slyly twisted to one side and ended up lying next to me, his head propped in one hand as he rested his elbow on the naked mattress.

  He was trying very hard to look casual, but I could tell it cost him to keep his distance. I was tempted to roll on top of him and kiss him again, but a small voice of reason in my head stopped me.

  Take it slow, Charlie. You don’t know what you’re playing with.

  Only he knew how he felt and how much his father’s spells curbed his vampire appetites. It would be unwise to go too fast.

  But, damn, I wanted to drive toward the cliff at full speed.

  I smiled and caressed his cheek. “I’m glad we cleared that up.”

  He chuckled, a deep rumble that did weird things to my insides.

  I didn’t want to ruin the moment, but I couldn’t help how anxious I felt without knowing what would happen if Rowan didn’t make the pact.

  “I want you to stay,” I whispered.

  He sighed and lay down flat next to me, staring at the ceiling.

  “You don’t know what you’re volunteering for,” he said. “Besides, this pact thing is a sham. My dad’s clever way of reducing the number of Lessers who actually have a chance of joining the Academy.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, propping myself up to better look at his face.

  “How many people do you see wanting to bind themselves to creatures and for life?”

  “More than you think, I bet,” I said.

  He huffed. “Not everyone is as naive as you are, Charlie.”

  “Not everyone is as jaded as you are, Rowan.”

  “You could get hurt,” he shot back.

  “You saved my life,” I said with emphasis. “You actually got very hurt saving my life. Nothing wrong with me trying to repay the favor.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I was almost dead already.”

  I slapped his arm. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, suppressing a smile.

  “Whatever risk there is, I’ll take it. I love risk. Risk is my middle name.” I gave a silly little laugh.

  He folded his muscular arms over his chest, a clear sign that he was closing off again.

>   “Or maybe you’re afraid,” I said.

  “Afraid? Me?” He twisted his mouth as if to say he wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “Of opening up, trusting, getting close to someone,” I said, feeling I’d stumbled onto the real reason for his refusal.

  “Depending on someone, you mean.”

  “Would that be so bad?” I kicked my feet off the bed and sat with my back to Rowan.

  Maybe he didn’t want to be bound to me. Maybe there was someone else he would prefer. I bit my lower lip and chided myself. He’d just told me he thought of me all summer. I needed to quit with all the disparaging thoughts, even if they were the heavy baggage left from years of childhood neglect.

  Thanks, Dad.

  The bed moved as he sat next to me. “No, it wouldn’t,” he said. “I just don’t want it to come between us.”

  “It won’t,” I said.

  He stood and walked to the window. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  A chill went down my spine. I rose to my feet. “What do you mean? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He faced me, laughing. “No, there isn’t,” he said, holding my gaze. “I just think… you might get sick of me. We would have to take the same classes, practice together, be attached at the hip. Are you really up for that? I am an ‘ass,’ remember?” He made air quotes.

  I narrowed my eyes, unsure of whether or not he was being honest if there wasn’t another reason why he thought the blood pact could cause trouble between us. Maybe, there was. Maybe, there wasn’t. But if he was willing, so was I.

  “I’m ready for anything you throw my way, Rowan Underwood. I survived a werewolf, a lich, an evil warlock and the school cafeteria on Salisbury steak day. I can survive you. Bring it on,” I said, lifting my chin and putting my hand out.

  He stared at it for a moment, then finally shook it.

  Chapter Four

  FALL SEMESTER

  EARLY SEPTEMBER

  For an unbreakable blood pact, the bonding ceremony wasn’t much to write home about.

  The next night, Dean McIntosh, Dean Underwood, Rowan and I met under a nearly full moon on the back green of the campus. I’d been given no instructions other than to be on time and abstain from eating after noon. Both directions made my stomach squirm and my hands jitter. It wasn’t like they were going to perform surgery, right?

  My cuffs pulsed weakly like even they weren’t sure.

  I hadn’t seen Rowan all day and when I spotted him on the lawn, my skin tingled. I was crushing hard as Disha would say. But, with everything between Rowan and I so tentative and fresh, what would being bound together for eternity do? I tried not to think about it. Yet, why did this feel like a Vegas wedding to someone I’d just met?

  So, without pleasantries, we stood in the moonlight while the deans chanted and cast complicated spells. My cuffs glowed brighter and brighter as my pulse increased. Rowan glanced up at me but then away as if this whole endeavor greatly embarrassed him.

  Then Dean Underwood took my hand, placed an ornate knife it the center of my palm, and cut a slash through my skin. Red blood bubbled in a line as I gritted my teeth from the pain.

  Rowan gritted his teeth for a completely different reason. I watched his nostrils flare as he caught my scent. I couldn’t begin to imagine the turmoil that must be wracking his body at the smell of fresh blood.

  His hands formed into fists, but he remained motionless as Dean Underwood placed my palm on Rowan’s bare chest.

  We stared into each other’s eyes and said the vows. Electric pulses like spring lightning flashed from my body to his, causing our skin to glow a dull gold. Power surged from my cuffs, up to my arm and out. Rowan bristled and then relaxed.

  I smiled. It seemed like everything had worked as it should.

  Then my stomach clenched, and I lost my lunch all over the grass.

  That explained the whole “not eating after noon” thing.

  With the ceremony behind us, things could move forward as normal. Rowan could use the magic allowance I gave him each day to attend classes, and I could continue my studies with his proximity no more than a captivating distraction. Disha picked up a new boyfriend and avoided her new roommate. All was normal.

  Until Saturday.

  Disha insisted we attend the Sophomore bash down by the lake. She said it was a sort of initiation, a tradition stemming back hundreds of years. We had made it through our Freshman year without being killed by an errant spell or a soul-sucking lich, which meant we were official.

  “Just making it to sophomore year does not make you a witch,” Rowan protested, taking one of Disha’s fries as we discussed plans in the cafeteria.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed, smacking his hand away. “I thought you didn’t eat food anymore.”

  Rowan glowered. “I can eat food, it just doesn’t do anything for me, besides taste good.” His voice was hushed as if he could keep what he was a secret, but everyone knew. It was all they talked about. Even now, glances darted our way.

  “Whatever,” Disha said. “Just promise me you’ll both be there. We can double date.” Her dark eyebrows waggled.

  “Who is it this time?” Rowan asked, without balking at the double date comment. I smiled inwardly. Our first date...

  I took one of Disha’s fries before answering for her. “His name is Vincent. He’s a Junior with ‘dreamy eyes.’” I added air quotes so Rowan would know I wasn’t checking this guy out.

  “And he works at the bookstore, so he can get us discounts,” Disha added, beaming. She pointed to the new school scarf she was currently wearing.

  “Whoopie,” Rowan said dryly.

  “Look, Debbie Downer, we all can’t ride the celibacy train like you two.” She savagely shoved three fries in her mouth.

  Rowan’s eyes shot up as I kicked Disha under the table. I’d told her, under strict confidence, that we were taking it slow. I was going to kill her. She’d be hearing Ewok voices for a month before I was done with her! I’d come up with a twist to her hex, and she wouldn’t be able to stop it.

  Rowan stood. “I need to go… study.” He hesitantly kissed me on the cheek before slipping out the back. A tingle traveled all over my body.

  “Disha!” I said, but she held up a hand to stop me.

  “I’m just laying the groundwork, baby girl. Come to the party. You’ll see why.”

  A little after nine PM, we met in the common room. Disha, of course, was dressed to the nines in designer shorts, a frilly blouse and more bangles than a tiger. Her hair fell in giant black-brown curls that looked like they’d taken hours to create. I’d at least made an effort and dressed the part in a blue scoop-neck tee, jean shorts, and ballet flats.

  Rowan strode in, impeccably handsome and understated in his tee and jeans. The medallion still hung at his neck, but it held no magic. It wouldn’t work for him now. If he wanted magic, he had to get it from me, a really strange concept to wrap my head around. All week, he’d come to me for his daily allowance with his eyes on the ground like he’d done something wrong. Like I was his parent and he needed gas money. It was a weird dynamic.

  “Where’s Vincent?” Rowan asked Disha.

  “He’ll meet us there,” Disha said, seeming distracted. She tugged our hands, rushing us to the door. “Come on. We need to get a good spot.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  But she wouldn’t answer. I glanced at Rowan, but he shrugged.

  We hiked it across campus, seeing other groups in beachy attire and carrying towels. Apparently, this “initiation” wasn’t sanctioned by the school, but they turned a blind eye, it being a long-held tradition. Still, it didn’t exactly give me confidence. Slavery and human sacrifice were once a tradition, too.

  When we got to the lake, my jaw dropped. Someone had been planning this for a while. Magical fairy lights danced above our heads in a rainbow of colors, which reflected off the water in shimmery hues. Large mushrooms sprouted from the ground to form chairs and tab
les that were arranged at odd intervals. A spread of food and drink dominated a long downed tree someone was using as a buffet table.

  People were already milling about, drinking and talking. It looked like a regular lake party until my eyes took in the platform rising up into the sky.

  “What is that?” I pointed a finger at the three-story tall wooden tower.

  “Oh yeah, that,” Disha said.

  “Yeah, that,” I repeated. “Why does it look like a diving platform?”

  Disha bit her nails and shrugged.

  “Oh, no,” I said, turning around. “No, no, no.”

  “Charcoal, please, please, please. Everyone who’s anyone will do it. If you don’t, you won’t get invited to any cool parties. People won’t respect you.”

  “They don’t respect me now. Remember how they called me Yogi Bare for a whole semester?” I said, pulling away. All that popularity crap had never been my thing.

  But then Rowan stepped in front of me.

  “Let me get this straight. You faced Henderson, one of the world’s best warlocks, punched him in the face, and then took on his accomplices single-handedly, but a little pile of sticks is going to make you turn tail and run?” The corner of his smugly adorable mouth quirked up.

  He was teasing me. Challenging me.

  “Are you going to do it?” I said, jutting a hip.

  He snorted a laugh, stripped down to his boxer briefs, and started climbing the ladder.

  “This is stupid.” I held his clothes and unabashedly ogled his miraculous body as it ascended. His skin was smooth as marble, even the scar from my botched spell after Henderson blew up the Enlightenment Fountain was gone. His pecs were strong, descending into a finely-defined six-pack, then a narrow waist. His back muscles flexed as he grabbed rung after rung, moving up the ladder. I stopped my eyes from moving further down as a blush lit up my cheeks.

  “He doesn’t have anything to prove,” I said, clearing my throat.

  But maybe he did. Even now people whispered about him behind their hands. I could tell by the expressions on their faces that there were still long-held prejudices at work when anyone mentioned the name Rowan Underwood.