Page 7 of Blood Legacy (Eternal Descent (MistHallow Academy) #1)

7

LUKE

As soon as the lecture ends, I leave without a glance back. Every instinct I have is clawing at my insides to take her, bend her over the desk and spank her arse so hard, she will feel it for a week. It makes my cock hard just thinking about physically punishing her. But knowing her, she would probably enjoy it.

Taking the shortcut and using my teleportation magick to return to my office, I land outside. “Make sure they keep their eyes on her. I want to know what she’s doing every second of this day.”

“Yes, sir,” the Gargoyle to my left grates out. He closes his eyes and telepathically sends the message to the others. I open the door and sweep inside, ignoring the student already inside, and moving behind my desk. I sit and lock gazes with Dante DuLoc. “My apologies for being late.”

“Don’t apologise on my behalf. I’m not eager to be punished.”

I narrow my eyes. “You know why you are here?”

“I have my theories. But before we get to those, I have a question for you.”

Tilting my head, I’m intrigued. Usually, students aren’t so laid back when it comes to punishments. “Go on.”

“Actually, it’s more of an observation,” he says. “I know how you feel about Gaida Aragon.”

“Excuse me?”

“When you swept into the Blood Bar last night and you saw me touching her, it fired up an emotion in you that you haven’t felt in a while. Possession. Jealousy, perhaps.”

“How dare you,” I spit out. “Making accusations along those lines is grounds for expulsion.”

“Even if they’re true?” He holds my gaze, completely confident in his words.

“It is not true. Merely a fabrication of your mind.”

He shakes his head and sits back. “No, you see, there’s a certain ability I have that is rare amongst my kind. I’m an Empath.”

My blood runs cooler. “An Empath? Why was this not noted on your application?”

“My family isn’t all that interested in this power. It’s unbecoming of a DuLoc to feel other’s emotions when they can’t deal with them themselves.”

“I still should have been notified. This changes your entire standing at this Academy. I can’t have you running amok with that kind of power.”

“I don’t run amok. I try not to use it unless something is too hard to ignore.”

“And you think these so-called feelings you felt from me are hard to ignore?”

Dante leans forward, his posture relaxed despite the tension in the room. “Hard to ignore? They practically knocked me over. The wave of jealousy that came off you when you saw her with me was like getting hit by a tsunami.”

I control my expression carefully, not allowing even a flicker of emotion to show. “You’re overstepping, Mr DuLoc.”

“Am I?” His eyes study me with an intensity that few would dare. “You know what’s interesting about being an Empath? I can tell when someone is suppressing their emotions. It creates a kind of pressure in the air around them. Like a dam about to break.”

“This conversation is over,” I state. “You’ve been summoned here because you were drinking human blood on campus. That is against the rules of this institution.”

Dante smiles, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that makes me want to rip his throat out. “That is what this is about? Denying a pureblood vampire his natural instincts?”

“The synthetic blood we have here is more than sufficient for your needs. Pureblood or otherwise.”

He sits back. “How is Lucius, by the way? He goes way back with my family.”

The name of my sire triggers something feral in my soul that rears up ready to annihilate, but I force it down, stabbing myself in the leg with the athame I keep under my desk for just such instances. “Then you probably know more about his wellbeing than I do.”

“Like that is it? I am not surprised. He is a rather unpleasant fellow.”

The low growl that escapes my lips is impossible to stop. The air responds to my magick snapping up with the need to destroy.

Dante sits back casually. “I’ve touched a nerve.”

“You’ve touched several,” I reply, my voice dangerously soft as I withdraw the athame from my thigh. The pain centres me, clears my head. “I suggest you tread carefully, Mr DuLoc.”

“I always do,” he says, though his expression suggests otherwise. “But back to the matter at hand. The human blood. It was available in the Blood Bar. I figured there must be some sort of arrangement.”

“That is not for you to determine. The rules of this institution exist across the grounds for a reason.”

“And what reason might that be? To deny us our nature? To pretend we’re something we’re not?” His voice remains casual, but there’s an undercurrent of challenge that grates against my already frayed nerves.

“To maintain order,” I state firmly. “To ensure all species can coexist without fear or prejudice. To provide education without the distraction of bloodlust and hunting instincts.”

Dante leans forward, his gaze unnervingly direct. “Is that why you’re fighting your attraction to Gaida? In the name of order?”

The athame in my hand bends under my grip. “You are dismissed, Mr DuLoc. Consider this your only warning regarding human blood on campus. The next infraction will result in more severe consequences.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he observes, rising. “But your emotions just did.”

I remain seated, my posture rigid with controlled fury. “Next time you attempt to access my emotions without consent, Mr DuLoc, I’ll have you before the Council for psychic invasion.”

He smiles, a predator’s expression that holds no warmth. It speaks to me on a level that is as unnerving as this entire conversation has been. “Understood, Headmaster. I’ll stick to the emotions you broadcast so loudly I can’t avoid them.”

With that parting shot, he turns and strides toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Oh, and just so you know, she tastes as exquisite as you imagine she does.”

The door closes behind him before I can respond, which is fortunate because the rage that surges through me is so violent it shatters the crystal paperweight on my desk. The fragments scatter across polished wood, glittering like ice in the afternoon light.

His meaning was unmistakable.

He’s had her blood.

The thought sends a wave of primal fury through me that I haven’t experienced in centuries. My fangs descend fully, piercing my lower lip, and I taste my own blood, a poor substitute for what I truly crave.

I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe deeply, to centre my thoughts. This is precisely why my sire beat his lessons and rules into me. This visceral, possessive reaction is unbecoming of my position, my age, my responsibilities.

I stand abruptly, needing movement to dispel the energy coursing through me. The leather of my chair creaks in protest as I push it back with more force than necessary. Pacing the length of my office, I try to rationalise my reaction. This is about maintaining order within my academy. About upholding the standards I’ve established. About ensuring the safety of all students under my care.

It has nothing to do with the way Gaida looked in that red dress this morning, or how the fabric clung to her curves as she crossed her legs deliberately in my lecture hall. Nothing to do with the scent of her that lingers in my senses, a maddening combination of ancient bloodline and something feral yet elegant that makes my fangs ache.

“Fuck,” I mutter, the rare profanity escaping before I can stop it. I’m slipping.

I slam my fist onto the desk, splintering the ancient wood. The crack reverberates through the room, punctuating my frustration. Has Dante truly tasted her? The thought of his fangs piercing her skin, of his lips against her throat, makes something primal and dangerous stir within me.

I’ve spent centuries perfecting control. Centuries burying the monster that Lucius cultivated with such cruel perfection. Yet in the last day, Gaida Aragon has managed to make cracks appear in my carefully constructed control.

A knock at the door interrupts my spiralling thoughts. I compose myself quickly, retracting my fangs and straightening my posture.

“Enter,” I call, my voice betraying none of the turmoil beneath.

Eldra steps in, her blue skin shimmering in the afternoon light. She pauses, her eyes taking in the shattered paperweight and cracked desk.

“Is this a bad time, Headmaster?” she asks carefully.

“Not at all,” I lie smoothly, fixing the destruction with a wave of my hand. “What can I do for you?”

“Miss Aragon has requested to join the Advanced Dark Magick class,” she says, watching my reaction closely. “As it’s invitation only, I told her I would need to consult with you.”

“Did she give a reason?” I ask, though I already know the answer. It is the whole reason Dante DuLoc transferred into MistHallow.

“She expressed interest in the exclusivity of the subject, given that we are one of only two academies that offer it,” Eldra continues, her tone neutral but her eyes watchful.

I turn toward the window, considering my options. Keeping Gaida and Dante apart would be a personal choice, although their combined rebellious tendencies could prove disruptive to the carefully balanced atmosphere I’ve cultivated at MistHallow. The possessive fury that rises in me at the thought of them spending more time together is quickly squashed. Perhaps this is for the best. They are two purebloods the same age from two of the most powerful vampire families in existence. They are alike. They will understand each other in ways that no one else can. Perhaps if I force them together, Gaida will get over her obsession with me and I can forget about her and carry on as expected.

“Tell me, Eldra,” I say, keeping my voice measured, “do you believe Miss Aragon has the aptitude for Advanced Dark Magick?”

Eldra considers this thoughtfully. “Her academic record is exceptional. Her practical skills in blood magick are particularly impressive, which often translates well to dark arts.”

“And her temperament?” I prompt, though I know the answer.

“Volatile,” Eldra admits. “But no more so than some others we’ve admitted to the program.”

Like Dante DuLoc. Not to mention my own nephew who teaches the damned class.

I turn back to Eldra, having made my decision. “Allow her to join the class.”

Eldra’s eyes widen slightly, betraying her surprise. “Are you certain, Professor? Given her current adjustment to day classes?”

“She wants to be challenged,” I say smoothly, masking my true intentions behind pragmatism. “Let her have the challenge. Besides, Advanced Dark Magick might provide an appropriate outlet for her energies.”

“Very well,” Eldra says, though her expression remains doubtful. “I’ll inform her of your decision.”

“And Eldra,” I add as she turns to leave, “please remind Miss Aragon that proper attire is expected in all classes, regardless of the hour they’re held.”

A small smile plays at the corners of Eldra’s mouth. “I’ve already attempted that conversation. She was unreceptive.”

“Try again,” I say, my tone making it clear this is not a suggestion.

She nods and leaves, probably cursing me for making her do this. But I cannot have that vampire wandering around in outfits that make me want to rip them off her. She has never worn red before yesterday. My visceral reaction to her didn’t go unnoticed, so she wore it again today. She will wear it every single day now because she knows she got to me. I sink back into my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. The tension headache building behind my eyes is unusual—vampires rarely experience such mundane discomforts. It’s a sign of how deeply Gaida is affecting me.

Allowing Gaida into the Dark Magick class might be a mistake, but it’s a calculated one. If she and Dante form a connection—romantic or otherwise—it could redirect her fixation away from me. The thought should bring relief, yet it sits like lead in my stomach.

I need to clear my head. The afternoon sun slants through the windows of my office, reminding me that I have duties to attend to, students who need guidance, an academy to run. I cannot allow one stubborn vampire to consume my thoughts this way.

As I reach for the door, the mirror on the wall shimmers slightly, making me pause. A message etched in blood scrawls across the glass.

The Aragon girl. Lucius is curious.

Bile rises in my throat. I slam my hand to the mirror and smear the message until I can’t see the letters anymore.

The damage is already done. If Lucius is taking an interest in Gaida, the situation has just become infinitely more complicated. My sire’s attention is never benign, especially when it concerns powerful bloodlines. Especially when it comes to people who interest me.

Empaths are never a good thing. They are dangerous creatures who know too much, who can see through the walls to your very soul.

With my hand still plastered to the bloody mirror, I close my eyes, remembering how Lucius always knew what I was thinking. How I was feeling.

I flinch as the lash of the whip hits my back in the memory. I can still feel the white-hot pain of that first strike, the way my skin split open beneath the enchanted silver. Lucius standing over me, his face a mask of cold disappointment rather than rage.

“Emotions are weakness. They cloud judgement. They create vulnerabilities. They make you predictable.”

Another strike. Another. Until my back is a canvas of torn flesh and spilt blood.

“What do you feel now, Luke?” he asks, his voice soft, almost gentle.

“Nothing,” I lie, my face pressed against the cold stone floor.

The whip cracks again, harder this time. “Lie to yourself if you must. Never lie to me.”

Empaths are never a good thing.

I pull my hand away from the mirror, returning to the present with a sharp inhalation. The blood message is gone, but the warning remains.