He had expressed concern that he was too old for me. The problem wasn’t his age. The problem was he acted like a tyrant.
What if Vega was right? What if Thatch and I were a bad match?
I woke late in the morning, too tired for my lesson. Lack of sleep and worry were never a good mix for me. A gloomy rain cloud followed me everywhere I went in the morning. The more I thought about the previous day, the more it irritated me.
At lunch I found Thatch in the detention dungeon, chiding two students chained up to a wall. As I approached, I saw one of them was Trevor, who shouldn’t have even been at Womby’s because he was only thirteen. The school had taken him in because his magic had been too strong and Fae would have found him in the Morty Realm. A mirage of a cheeseburger floated before Trevor.
The other student was Ben O’Sullivan. A wavering illusion of a pot of gold floated before him.
“Miss Lawrence, save me!” Tears flowed down Trevor’s cheeks. “It hurts so bad!”
I had no intention of using my skill of awareness, but the gnawing pit of Trevor’s belly hit me in the gut like a punch. I had to mentally pull away and imagine the magic in my core compressing and solidifying into a tight, impenetrable ball in order to not experience what his body was feeling.
“What’s going on?” I asked Thatch. “Why are you punishing Trevor?”
“I caught him stealing from a cabinet. He intended to eat Priscilla’s birdseed.” Thatch shook with indignation.
“That’s because he’s hungry.” The poor kid had the metabolism of a bodybuilder, but he was all skin and bones and shorter than me.
“He’s torturing me!” Trevor cried. “He said I have to stay down here all lunch.”
Thatch pointed a finger at him. “It’s about time you learned something called delayed gratification. You need to master your weakness. If you don’t, your hunger will control you.”
Ben snorted. I didn’t know what he’d done, but there was no question he deserved a lunch detention. He always did. I didn’t think the pot of gold he drooled over was enough of a punishment even if he was part leprechaun.
“If you deny Trevor lunch, he’s going to eat my art supplies again in seventh period,” I told Thatch.
“That’s your problem, not mine. He might be less likely to eat your crayons if you set clear expectations in your class, outlined the consequences, and followed through with your consequences instead of pandering to his whims.”
“Oh really?” My voice came out as cold as Antarctica. “You think I need to work on making my expectations clearer?” Is that what he did in our relationship? He imposed his domineering will on every aspect of our relationship, from my schedule to telling me whom I could talk to about what—which I was not angry about anymore—only, I was.
Trevor stopped whimpering. Ben tore his gaze away from the mirage of gold before him.
The only hint of nervousness that belied Thatch’s calm was the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I beg your pardon, Miss Lawrence. What I meant to say is that you are too generous to the students. It would be more effective if you gave them the stick instead of the carrot.”
“Do I need to give you the stick, Mr. Thatch? Is that the best way to set clear expectations?”
His gaze slid over to the students, who stared with wide eyes. I took it they weren’t used to anyone giving the dungeon master any lip.
“Perhaps we should step into my office to discuss this matter further.” He waved me ahead of him.
The moment I closed the door to his office I held up the schedule. “You said you weren’t going to be so overbearing.”
“I made no such promise. I said I would try. Obviously, I have failed or else you wouldn’t be here . . . giving me the stick.” From the wry smile on his face, I took it that amused him.
That only irritated me more. I threw the schedule down on his desk. “I never asked you to schedule every aspect of my day. You haven’t given me any time for a social life. You haven’t penciled in our relationship anywhere. It would have been nice if you had at least consulted me before arranging a schedule for me.”
He leaned against his desk casually, as if bored. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer you kept your voice at a reasonable volume. I do prefer not to use sound-dampening spells unless absolutely necessary.” He gestured at the door. A lock clicked into place, but he didn’t use his soundproof spell.
“Don’t you dare make me the bad guy here. I’m setting a boundary.” I lowered my voice. “If we are going to have a relationship, you can’t be such a strict, controlling authoritarian. You need to make time for us to do things couples do.” My breath came quickly, and I fought to calm myself.
“Are you finished?” His lips twitched as though he was trying hard not to smile.
“No, I am not.” Anxiety leaked into my voice, making the words come out shaky. “You don’t want anyone to know about us because you don’t want anyone to know you have a personal life, and you’re so private. So what does that make this relationship? Am I your fuck buddy?”
“Merlin’s balls.” He rubbed his temples. “You’ve been talking to Vega, haven’t you? That was her word of choice, not mine.”
“Well?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “You aren’t my fuck buddy. Are you happy now? Did I somehow imply that’s what I wanted?”
“Yes, only in a thousand different ways. Are you completely clueless?”
“Indeed. I’ve already told you as much. If you’ve been talking to Vega, she’s probably made me out to be a villain.”
“She told me about the coffin incident.”
“I don’t know why you would believe anything Vega says. She’s just trying to make trouble.” I had once given someone similar advice about Vega, but it was always hard to follow my own advice.
“So you’re saying you didn’t try to bury her alive?”
“You know me better than that,” he said stiffly. “I don’t try to do anything. If I wanted to kill her, I would have done so. I only wanted to intimidate her. And, I’ll admit, yes, I wanted to get back at her for her obvious attempt to manipulate me. She wanted someone who was her equal in magical abilities. I gave that to her. She wanted the thrill of dark, kinky magic and an emotionally unavailable man. It was quite simple.”
“You were cruel.”
“Yes, but she enjoyed it. I fulfilled her fantasy.”
“No. Don’t tell me you read her pleasure-pain meter or used some kind of telepathic ability, and you decided this was what she wanted. She didn’t give you her consent to bury her alive. She wanted you to stop, and you wouldn’t. You teased her about a stupid safe word—”
“Stop.” He held up a hand. “The safe word would have been ‘no.’ She never said ‘no.’ She never said ‘stop.’ She screamed and cried and even giggled, but she never actually wanted me to end the fantasy. Only Vega would get exactly what she wants and complain about it.”
Actually that did sound like Vega. When she’d finally gotten the tower to herself, she had complained about it.
He poked me in the nose. “You aren’t Vega. I wouldn’t ever lock you in a coffin. I know you wouldn’t know how to get out. I try not to be cruel to you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I crossed my arms. “I’ve gotten out of a coffin before without any help.”
“What else is there? You’re obviously still angry with me about a smidge more than Vega’s tall tales.” He crossed his arms, his expression patient.
I lifted my chin. “I’m tired of you mocking me and belittling me in front of my students—like you did with Ben and Trevor. I am a teacher and a colleague at this school, not just your pupil. You treat me like I’m your inferior. I’m sick and tired of it. If you want to be in this relationship, I’m going to call you out on your condescending behavior.”
I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to use up that rage still hot in my limbs. The release of anger felt strangely
good in my body, and my affinity responded in kind, radiating from my core. Some of that vehemence melted away, leaving my muscles languid. That pent-up release filled me with satisfaction.
Thatch’s gaze drifted to my belly, his gaze unfocused. I supposed my affinity and how it would be raging inside would be no secret to him.
“Good for you. It’s admirable you’re setting boundaries.” He lifted an eyebrow, a sardonic smile on his face. “Give some people an inch, and they’ll take a mile.”
It took me a moment to realize he was referring to himself. His self-deprecating joke took me off guard. I stared at him, speechless.
“Are you done giving me the stick? Are you ready to give me the carrot?” He held out his hand.
Tentatively, I took it. He tugged me into his embrace. His hands smoothed up and down my back, the touch soothing and comfortable.
“Instead of telling me all the things I do that you hate and all sundry you don’t want, tell me what you do want from me.”
In teaching, I’d always learned giving students the desired outcome was stronger than just telling them what you didn’t want. It had never occurred to me to apply that to my own relationship with Thatch.
I leaned my head against his chest. “I want you to include time with you on the schedule. And I want to be able to allow for some spontaneity. Like on the days Vega takes me into Lachlan Falls or if I want to spend more time with friends.”
He stiffened. “Why would Vega take you into Lachlan Falls?”
“I’m scanning photographs for her in the Internet café. Don’t worry about me getting snatched. She watches me like a hawk. I’m perfectly safe.”
“Be that as it may, it would make me less likely to fret over your safety if you left me a note so that I would know when you left school grounds with Vega. . . . If that wouldn’t be too overbearing.” He said the word overdramatically in his teasing way.
I poked him in the ribs and tickled.
His muscles contracted, and he squirmed back. “No tickling, if you please.”
I probably would have tickled him again, but he took my hand in his and kissed my fingers. He was playing nice, so I would too.
He released me with one arm to pick up my schedule from his desk. “Tell me what you would like to change. I would be delighted to comply.” As I lifted my hand, he added. “No tickling. I can read your mind.”
I knew he couldn’t.
He held up the schedule he’d handwritten. I pointed to our evening lessons. “Do you see how you’ve only left me half an hour afterward? I want an hour after each class so I can spend time with you before getting ready for bed.”
“Let’s negotiate this. I’m only going to give you half an hour after lessons so you have time to get to your room before curfew, but I will be flexible on three lessons each week on the topics of study.”
I leaned away from him to take in the grin on his face. “Is that a euphemism? Do you mean study magic or study each other?”
“Just so. But I can’t very well put that on a schedule anyone can see, can I?”
I poked my finger at Saturdays. “I want to be able to make plans to do things on weekends. It might be nice to occasionally visit my fairy godmother or go on a date or even schedule Art Club meetings. Can we just plan it one weekend at a time?”
“Starting tomorrow?” he asked.
“Starting tonight.”
“It’s been a long week, and I already have plans for tonight. It includes taking a long bath and reading books in bed until I’m too fatigued to keep my eyes open. I have no objection to writing you into my schedule, but I imagine my desire to relax after a long week will be at odds with a younger person’s desire to go out and . . . have fun.” He made a face at the last word like it tasted sour in his mouth.
“Are you joking or serious?” I never could tell.
“I’m being sincere. I don’t want to leave my bat cave, as you call it. I want peace and quiet. I don’t expect you to enjoy my hobbies, and I won’t force you to participate in them, but I ask you to respect that I might need something different from you on a Friday night.” He glanced away and then back to me, uncertainty painting his face.
I wondered if he assumed I was like Vega who always wanted to go out dancing. Or Gertrude who wanted to have sex all the time. It was kind of cute that his idea of a good time was being a homebody. My introverted personality craved quiet time away from large groups after a full week of classes too.
“I like reading books, and I liked taking a bath with you.” I offered him a hopeful smile. “I’m happy to share a quiet evening with you.”
His lips twitched up into a bashful smile, shyness something I wasn’t used to seeing on his face. “We could read to each other. Will you tolerate Charles Dickens?”
“Sure. Whatever floats your boat. I’ll do Jane Austen or Louisa May Alcott. Or Alexandre—”
Those must have been the magic words. He kissed me and threaded his fingers through my hair. I couldn’t wait for a quiet evening of the classics with my classy man.
When I went to lunch, I filled two trays. The moment Trevor stepped into my classroom seventh period, I lifted the second tray from my desk. “Eat this before you get started with your art assignment. If I catch you eating my art supplies today, I will never do this for you again.”
He threw his arms around me, almost toppling over the bowl of soup and salad. “Thank you, Miss Lawrence. You’re the best.”
I didn’t care if Trevor told Thatch either.
On Friday night I enjoyed a quiet evening with Thatch, starting after I had finished with my dinner duty in the cafeteria. Our bath turned out to be way better than the previous one—namely because no one interrupted us—but also because I didn’t bring up how Thatch had accidentally killed anyone with ejaculation made of fire. Reading books cuddled up naked ended up being my favorite part of the evening, especially with all the happy endings we read—and gave each other.
Though we did experience the minor mishap of setting the curtains of the canopy bed on fire when Thatch ejaculated on them.
After he’d put out the flames, we lay in each other’s arms, trying not to cough from the smoke. I buried my face against his chest, inhaling the scent of magic tingling on his skin.
He stroked my hair away from my face. “You need to leave soon so you can meet curfew.”
I squeezed him tighter. “Yeah, I know. Cinderella needs to leave before she gets turned into a pumpkin.”
“That is not the version of the story I am familiar with.”
“What do you think about going out and having dinner somewhere tomorrow night?” I asked.
“We could do that if you want, but I had something else in mind.” He shifted, rolling me off him. “I heard from a little bird that Vega is going to be out dancing until very late tomorrow night. You could come here and spend the evening with me. I can make it worth your while.”
“I thought Friday was supposed to be our quiet evening. Saturday was supposed to be rowdy and loud and full of fun.” I tried to say it with a straight face, but I couldn’t manage it. “I was thinking a death metal concert would be appropriate.”
“I don’t know what that is, nor do I wish to.” He poked me in the ribs. “I will point out, I never said anything about us being quiet, nor about not having fun together tomorrow. I’m certain we can make as much noise as this death metal you speak of.”
“Unlikely,” I laughed.
“Challenge accepted.”
Saturday morning, I insisted on free time. I spent breakfast with Josie and then got my lessons ready in my classroom while Art Club students worked on art projects.
All the while, I kept thinking about Thatch setting the curtains on fire. It was kind of amusing except when I considered how unsatisfying it had to be for him not to climax inside a woman. I had a spell to solve that problem, but I didn’t know where to collect all the ingredients, nor did I know if I could c
hannel Celestor magic to make it work.
I considered asking Thatch, but I worried he would be a curmudgeon because that was his natural state. He would say he didn’t want anyone to help with the spell because it required three people, and he wasn’t willing to let anyone know about our relationship—let alone his problem.
I went to the dungeon to talk to him and found it empty. There were two other powerful Celestors on staff: Gertrude Periwinkle and Vega Bloodmire. Gertrude already knew about Thatch and me, so she was a logical choice in that regard. On the other hand, asking for assistance to have better sex than she had ever had with her ex-boyfriend felt like it would be a slap in the face. Plus there was that time she had suggested a threesome between Thatch, her, and me. I didn’t want her to think I was asking her to join us.
Her siren magic had rendered my will completely powerless. I already had to work hard to control my magic, and that was with Thatch’s monitoring. I didn’t know how he had resisted her siren spell.
That left Vega.
She was dating a Fae prince. She had no reason to be jealous, though Thatch hadn’t wanted her to know about us. If she suspected I wanted to make a protective condom for Thatch, she might resort to blackmail.
On the other hand, she hadn’t threatened to kill me lately or complained about my pink hair. She was grateful I’d scanned photos for her. The prints hadn’t come in the mail yet. It was possible she would just go back to being rude to me after I handed them over to her.
If I played my cards right, I could use that to my advantage. I practiced a lie in my head so I could explain why I wanted a fireproof condom. When dealing with Vega, I needed to cover all my bases.
I found her in her classroom, sipping coffee from a giant mug that said, “I teach tomorrow’s leaders. I’m kind of a big deal.”
The conceitedness of the statement was very Vega, whereas the message took me off guard as a very un-Vega statement to make. It showed she actually believed her students capable of great things. I had never considered she might feel that way before. I took that as a sign she was a good person deep down and felt some hope for my mission.
Of Curse You Will Page 17