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52

Summer

C onnor slides his hand into mine and gently tugs me against his side as we walk to his next class. I look over my shoulder as we go, my eyes searching for the mysterious being I had the strange encounter with. It should have been terrifying, especially because an unknown entity is hunting me. Well, an unknown entity and a psychotic fae male. I was scared in the beginning, but then… I wasn’t. While dangerous and filled with power, the energy coming off him didn’t feel directed at me but in defense of me. No part of me wants to run and hide. Instead, I am intrigued.

As we round the corner, the corridor out of view, Connor brings my hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. I look at him, letting the kindness and love in his eyes wash over me. The sky blue encapsulates me in a sea of calm. Connor smiles at me before he opens the door to his classroom. Everyone is already seated, and Headmaster Emrys’s words trail off when he sees us.

“Miss Tuatha De Daanan. I don’t recall inviting you to join my senior capstone class.”

I blush, about to reply, when Connor answers for me. “Apologies, headmaster. This will be a one-time thing if you allow it, of course.” He gives the headmaster a pointed look, and I get the sense he’s not going to let him not allow it. My sexy big guy.

Headmaster Emrys lifts an eyebrow, regarding us both with those steely gray eyes. After a long, tense moment, he nods once and walks around his desk, perching on the edge of it. Connor squeezes my hand, and we sit down near the back of the classroom.

“Combat runes,” the headmaster continues. He unbuttons his left cuff and rolls the sleeves up his arm, unveiling some of the most intricate runes I’ve ever seen. Unlike fae, with our iridescent runes, sorcerers’ runes are black, the kind of black that swallows light. The headmaster’s runes are drawn expertly, and while they’re usually concealed by a shirt, it’s fascinating to see how they connect to the always visible ones on his hand. And also incredibly sexy.

The headmaster does the same with his other sleeve, and I take time to study the runes on that arm as best I can. There are some that adorn both, but there are a couple that differ between arms. Some battle runes can be drawn onto the skin in one place, affecting the whole body, while others must be applied to each arm or leg. Placement is very rune dependent..

“At the end of our previous lesson, we had just started to delve into the different advanced combat runes, and I had asked for you all to research a subset of the combat runes from your species.” The headmaster turns back around and begins to draw various runes on the whiteboard. His work is effortless, and I briefly wonder how much knowledge he contains in his brain. He labels them one to eight and then turns back to the class.

“Mister Morningstar, which is the angel advanced combat rune?” His steely gaze locks on Connor, pinning him there. I feel uneasy on his behalf, but Connor’s effortless confidence remains a welcome presence beside me.

“Number three, headmaster,” Connor answers easily.

Headmaster Emrys nods once and then draws the symbol of the angels beneath the third rune. “Specific archetypes?” he asks, still looking up at the rune.

“Along with the base advancements in combat, the angelic advanced combat rune also affects our wings. The feathers toughen, becoming shield-like while also turning even lighter, allowing for a faster and more silent glide,” Connor recites as if he’s memorized a passage on this very subject. I look at him, smiling proudly at my angel and feeling a little turned on by him. Overall, this is just a very erotically charged class.

The headmaster nods and casts his gaze over the classroom, landing on another student. “Miss Denya.”

The girl pales, disappointed that her plan to avoid eye contact with the headmaster has failed.

“The vampire combat rune?” the headmaster probes, and Miss Denya turns a sickly shade of green as her eyes nervously dart between the different runes and the headmaster.

“Number four?” she squeaks out.

The headmaster’s cool gaze is locked on her, waiting. “Is that your answer or a question, Miss Denya?”

She swallows loudly. “The answer?”

The headmaster continues to stare her down, and she squirms under the attention. Connor slings his arm along the back of my chair, enjoying this takedown. There is obviously some ill will between him and the quivering vampire.

“Wrong.” The headmaster’s steely voice cuts through the tension in the room like the sharpest of blades, and he looks over the room, taking in every single student.

“Can one of those who have actually done the reading tell me which species the fourth one is for?” Everyone in the room stares blankly at the whiteboard.

From the moment he started drawing the rune, I knew it was a fae rune. There is something about the way it curves and bends. As much as I hate to admit it, there is a finesse to it that was first perfected by the fae folk. Their rune work is some of the most intricate. Even if I hadn’t recognized it by the design, I would have known for sure once he completed it. It looks as if It is hovering above the whiteboard, calling to me.

“No one?” the headmaster asks, a slight growl to his voice.

“It’s fae.” I tense and press my lips tightly together, the words having slipped out. The sound is so soft that it’s not reaching to hope that he didn’t hear it, but the second my answer hits the air, his eyes snap to me.

“That is correct, Miss Tuatha De Daanan.” He looks at his students. “Disappointing.” Done with trying to get answers from his class, he points to the first rune. “Shifter, non-winged.” He points to the second one. “Shifter, winged.” He points to the third one. “Angel.” He points to the fourth. “Fae. Berserker. Valkyrie. Vampire and siren.” He points to them one after the other. “This demonstration is anything but exhaustive. These are just the ones relevant to the class.” He leans against the wall. “Now we know the runes, and we have the ability. What stands in our way of simply drawing them and utilizing their abilities?”

“Emotions,” a siren boy in the second row answers.

“Elaborate,” the headmaster replies cooly.

“Combat runes are volatile by their very nature. More so if the creator’s emotions are also volatile.”

The headmaster pushes off the wall and walks back to the board. “As you know, runes draw on emotions. Combat runes are no different, though the consequences are. For example, if you were to draw a rune for hay fever while angry, the worst that would happen is that the rune would be ineffective. Perhaps it would cause a headache. Drawing one of these runes while allowing emotion to rule you could result in self-destruction, madness, blackouts, elevated homicidal tendencies, or uncontrollable rage.” The headmaster writes notes on the board as he speaks. “While you want to control your emotions, these particular runes require a very delicate balance. Someone completely at ease, for example, will not have enough will to power the rune sufficiently. Can anyone tell me the three M ’s of drawing these runes?”

I tell myself to remain silent, but when no one else speaks up, I whisper, “Malice. Murder. Malevolence.” The headmaster turns around and looks at me. Does he look impressed?

“Correct. And what do they mean?” he asks.

“The runes are defensive and are primarily to be used in combat. However, holding any of the three Ms in your soul as you draw the runes changes the rune to be offensive, which is not the nature of them.”

The headmaster nods. “These runes, while meant for battle, can be lethal if used in conjunction with feelings of malice, murder, or malevolence. These runes are incredibly powerful, and they become uncontrollable when fed with these emotions. Say the rune is activated on the battlefield after you have just witnessed a loved one being killed, and the core emotion is malice. Yes, the rune would assist with the surface goal of revenge, but then it would feed off that malice and crack. When it does, it won’t just warp your abilities but your mind as well. Every single person on the battlefield becomes a target. Friend and foe no longer matter. There is only malice. There is only more .” The room is completely silent, the lesson settling over us like a suffocating quilt. “Miss Tuatha De Daanan, since you seem to know more than my advanced class, congratulations, you have just volunteered to demonstrate.”

I blink at him, his words slowly sinking in. The headmaster just watches me, his gaze becoming a little more impatient, clearly annoyed that I haven’t jumped to my feet. He obviously isn’t used to having to say things more than once or having to wait.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly get to my feet. I smooth out my skirt as I walk to the front of the class, nerves tingling down my spine.

“Are you feeling particularly malevolent this morning, Miss Tuatha De Daanan?” the headmaster quips, and while it sounds like he’s being sarcastic, I swear I see a twinkle of humor in his eyes.

“I’d say my malevolence is probably sitting at a solid three out of ten,” I reply, using humor to deflect from my nerves. The idea that he is in real danger from me is ludicrous. Not only is my mood fairly placid, but I’m only a first year. My powers are still growing. Plus, they are still deeply repressed, and to power a defensive rune like this fully, I’d need to put in years of practice.

“Draw the rune and use it against me.”

I take a breath and hold out my hand, summoning my small rune dagger. I slice my finger and draw the rune on my forearm without even looking at the board. The memory of the rune is so clear in my mind. It’s like I’ve always known it. Even before he drew it on the board, the rune was building itself in my mind as he was drawing the previous ones. Mine ended up looking only slightly different from the actual rune, and I’m pretty sure mine would have worked in the same way, but it would have allowed for slightly more control over the power channeled into it.

The dark red blood is stark against my skin, and it starts to glow even before I’ve completed it, my body anticipating the power I will need. The second the rune is complete, I feel all of my joints tighten, but my bones become more pliable and flexible. My hearing sharpens, making the ticking clock almost painful, but I also have more control over it, able to tune myself into the sounds. I hear the heartbeat of everyone in the room, and with little effort, I have sorted through them and identified Connor’s. His heart is beating a little faster than normal. I turn my hearing, searching for the headmaster’s heartbeat. It takes a little longer, but I eventually find the slow, even thud within his chest.

I sense the headmaster moving toward me, his attack imminent. Not giving him the chance, I send a charged ball of purple power right at him. He blocks it easily and nods, never removing his hands from his pockets.

“Very good, Miss Tuatha De Daanan,” he says, and I feel my confidence grow beneath his praise. “Do you know how to counteract the rune?”

I concentrate, and the counter rune forms in my mind. I slice my finger again and draw over the defensive rune. The effects dim almost immediately.

“Very good,” he says before turning his attention to his class, who are all gaping at me. “Next,” he says, waiting for the next person to come up and do the same thing.

By the end of the class, I was the only one able to draw and channel the rune successfully. As the students leave, there is a mixture of reactions as they walk past me. Some smile at me, seeming impressed. Others glare at the temerity of a first-year daring to show them up.

Connor slides his hand into mine. “You made that look easy.”

I shrug, but I feel a smile tug at the corner of my lips.

“Lunch?” Connor asks.

I nod and we walk to the cafeteria, discussing the different techniques for rune drawing. When we arrive at our table, Zach, Zane, Luke, and Alice are digging into their lunch.

“Summer just showed up a room full of seniors,” Connor announces to the table with a wide, proud grin.

“Hardly.” I roll my eyes as I sit down, but that annoying warmth fills my chest, and a smile plays on my lips again.

Connor raises an eyebrow. “You were the only one the headmaster had to use his shield for.”

I shrug. “Whatever, it’s just a rune.” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them, not only because they are not true, runes are complex and fascinating, but also because of how Connor’s face drops.

“Oh,” he says, sounding a little defeated.

I turn to face him. “Con, the only reason I’m good at runes is cause I’m fae. They’re really hard, and that one today was super complex. You almost had it.”

Connor looks at me, his brows furrowed. “I’ve had classes with fae for years, Summer. They aren’t like you.”

What does that mean? Do I even want to know?

I flutter my eyelashes and move in closer, doing my best to act cute. “Are you proud of me?” I ask, deliberately making my voice a little higher.

Connor wraps an arm around me. “I’m always proud of you, babe. But I want you to be proud of you.”

I melt at his words but then cringe at the impossibility of what he’s asking. There have been very few reasons for me to feel pride in myself. Shame and I are much better acquaintances. I sigh softly. “I’ll try. Okay, big guy?”

Connor smiles, brushing his lips over mine in one of the most tender kisses I’ve ever received. “That’s good enough for me.”

Alice nudges me and drops her voice so the others can’t overhear. “Everything okay?”

I nod, still leaning into Connor’s side. “I’m good.”

Rafe slams his tray down on the table, making me jump in surprise. “Fuck Emrys,” he growls.

“What happened?” Connor asks, squeezing me a little, the tension already building in him.

“He’s making me take on an extra class to make up for missed work,” Rafe growls.

I glance at Rafe, his face set into a furious expression. “Maybe I can help?” I offer.

“Can you attend my class for me?” Rafe asks, his words dripping with ungrateful sarcasm.

I shrug. “Okay, my bad.”

“Rafe, she was being nice,” Connor scolds.

Rafe looks at Connor, his eyes flashing. “I don’t need your girlfriend’s fucking pity offer.”

“Rafael,” Connor warns.

“Fuck this, I’m out of here.” Rafe stands from the table and storms off.

Connor sighs, kissing my temple. “Sorry about that, babe. He didn’t mean it.”

My heart warms at the way he is sticking up for his little brother, even though I can tell he’s struggling to justify his actions internally. I turn my head to face him and kiss the corner of his lips, comforting him.

“My offer stands. I’m happy to help Rafe if he’ll accept it. I know he’s a junior, and I’m just a freshman, but I’m also a nerd.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Alice scoffs into her blood bag.

Connor looks over my face and exhales. “I don’t deserve you.”

I stare up at him, my stomach clenching. Connor is right. He doesn’t deserve me. He deserves so much more.