Page 12 of Cursed by the Love Witch (A Monstrous Holiday #2)

12

DARCEE

N ecromancy class had always been a dull, frustrating affair.

The concepts did not agree with me, and the professor leading the class held unbridled disdain for me. Now, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Before, I sometimes found it difficult to pay attention because of the material being taught. Now, I'm having difficulty focusing as I watch Bael confidently glide around the room, instructing us to cast a summoning circle without being tapped beyond the veil.

My mind is filled with the memory of Bael’s strong hands tracing along my body. How warm and hard he had been pressing against me—our shared breath—the delicious secrecy of being with him. Our relationship is wrong—unethical for many reasons—yet my desire for him was rapidly increasing by the moment. That love potion I gave him must have been my most potent brew yet, even I feel under its thrall.

As he highlights the difference between black and pink salt, I watch his slender muscles flex under his shirt as he writes. A hot thrill goes through me, and I wonder again if this attraction to him was always there on my end. We wouldn’t be the first opposites to attract—I have brought together dozens of people who seem at odds with one another only to end up being a perfect match.

Perhaps buried beneath all that disdain was a kernel of my true feelings. I had always wanted to impress him. Other professors had dismissed me, but Bael’s cut deeper for some reason. His assertion that I wasn’t taking the course seriously ruffled me and spurned me to try harder, even if it was to no avail.

His eyes scan the room, connecting with mine for a moment before moving on. Awareness spreads throughout my body, tingling in my fingers. The heat in his gaze makes it easy to forget this isn’t real. While my emotions are genuine, his will begin to wane this week. They have to. Until then, heavy petting and constant flirting will have to suffice.

After that, I’ll be gone and never see him again. All of this will fade into an unpleasant memory for him, and he’ll be none the wiser about how it came about in the first place.

Opening a leatherbound textbook on his desk, he reads off a passage in a deep voice. Goddess, he is handsome. I can admit that now—though some part of me has always thought so. The fullness of his lips was in sharp contrast to the harshness of his jaw. His purple eyes glowed under dark, arched eyebrows. Pointed ears poked out from beneath his swath of black hair.

Even without his gray skin, no one would ever consider Bael human. The depth in his gaze and the way he moves with predatory grace indicates he is not of this world. Those eyes fixate on mine again, and a fresh flush breaks across my cheeks. I have to rub my thighs together and soothe the dull ache there. His lips twitch as if he knows, but he merely continues reading, his words never faltering.

If I am becoming his madness, he is undoubtedly already mine. I’ve never felt this desire before. If he doesn’t touch me again, soon I’ll perish. It was never like this with Marius—or any of the others I had dabblings with over the years. Part of this could be due to the dry spell I’ve been having. How long has it been since I last had sex? A year, maybe longer.

I hadn’t noticed the time between now and my last tryst with a fourth-year charms student. It seems my body knows it hasn’t found release at the hands of another in some time. All that pent-up desire flows through me unencumbered, demanding I submit. I should find another for a quick romp, but the thought of anyone besides Bael repulses me.

It is futile, seeing as I can never have him in that way—especially not now.

Therefore, I will deny myself. For a moment, I wondered if we could try again once the potion was out of his system. The thought is pointless—when Bael shakes off this stupor, he’ll never wish to see me again. If he does, it will only be to punish me.

The bell rings and cuts through my inappropriate thoughts. All at once, the students around me begin moving, writing down the mountain of spellwork Bael has assigned for the evening. Prue slips her belongings into her bag at my side and looks at me expectantly.

“Zander is going to help me get caught up on the class I missed last week. You wanna join?”

I hope my grin is convincing.

“I can’t. Ba—The High Warlock is?—”

I’m spared from answering further when Zander appears. His skin has once again returned to its healthy glow. The darkness under his eyes is barely a whispered smudge.

“Ready to go?” he asks Prue, nodding down at me in greeting.

“Sure,” she says, eyeing me momentarily before slinging her bag over her shoulder. “See you later, Dar.”

They both leave with the remaining stranglers. Awareness prickles my skin as I watch the last student slip out the door. The air around me is stifling, and every sense in my body is heightened. I turn towards the front of the room, where Bael leans against his large wooden desk. His arms are casually crossed over his chest, and his long leg is tucked over the other.

We stare at each other for several moments, saying nothing and everything simultaneously. It is intoxicating to be looked at this way—like I am the center of his world. My legs clench together once more. The bare skin of my thighs is highly sensitive.

Once more, the side of his mouth kicks up as he waves a hand. The door to the room locks with finality. I remain rooted to my chair as he prowls closer. His graceful movements cause my heart to pound.

“We shouldn’t have any interruptions,” he says. His voice is soft and rough at the same time.

“Good.” I swallow loudly.

His booted feet gently click along the wooden floor as he walks closer to me. The scent of smoke and earth invades my lungs and worsens my ache. When he reaches my desk, his palms fall to the smooth surface on either side of me. Our position mirrors how we were in Mistress Saege’s class. I stare up at him, taking in his formidable figure.

The top button of his shirt has come undone, revealing more of his muscular gray skin. It is unmarred and seems impossibly soft. I’d love to trace the opening with my fingers—my tongue. Bael breathes heavily, his face lowering closer to mine. Our mouths are mere inches apart. To kiss him would be dangerous, and yet I feel my mouth tipping up higher to do just that.

“Do you,” Bael pauses, swallowing loudly, “have any idea how beautiful you are?”

The words caress me—my mouth parts with a soft sigh.

“Do you know how hard it is for me?” he continues. “To sit up there and teach a lesson when you are sitting here tempting me.”

“Bael,” I whisper, licking my lips.

“Is it wrong that I’ve wanted you like this countless times? I’ve been close—so close—to dismissing everyone but you so I could have you all to myself.”

I inhale sharply at his confession. His eyes burn brighter—madness threading through his purple irises.

“Does the knowledge of my desire frighten you, little witch?”

A hot shiver goes through me. Once more, my string is being pulled by an unseen force, and I’m powerless to fight it. My hand comes down on top of his, tracing the back of it. Skimming over his hard knuckles and veins, I bite my lip and drown in his stare.

“No,” I say, and it is the truth. “I only wish you had said something sooner.”

His low growl is music to my ears. It’s easy to flirt when it feels real to me. If I were an ethical witch, I’d call this all off. I’d risk giving him an antidote to end his affliction sooner, but I’m not a good witch. It’s selfish and wrong, but this may be the only chance to indulge in this buried fantasy of Bael before I leave.

We will not take things too far—sex is firmly off the table while he is under the effects of a love potion. However, flirting, touching, and, Goddess, spare me a stolen kiss or two is fair game. I need to experience it—him—just once before I graduate. That way, I can leave this place with no regrets.

I want him, and he needs me while the potion is still this potent.

His large hand lifts from under mine, rising to tuck a loose curl behind my ear. My heart races as his fingertips explore the shell of my ear before skimming over my cheek and the bridge of my nose. My face warms under his stare. Tucking his finger underneath my chin, he tilts my face higher. My eyes flutter shut as his head lowers. His nose nestles between my shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply.

He drags it along his fingers' path, and I wait to feel his lips on mine. The anticipation is delicious agony. My hands clench the desk before me as his lips skim over my ear. A delightful shiver runs down my spine.

“As tempting as you are, I will not use these tutoring sessions to have my way with you. You deserve to be properly courted, but more than that, I am your professor first. Improving your grade is my primary concern when you are here. Things will remain professional, you have my word.” I feel him smile against my ear. “Even as it’s taking all my restraint not to toss you up on my desk and strip you out of that little skirt.”

Before I can stop it, a moan slips out of my mouth. Bael pulls back, his eyes dark and wild. His voice is uneven when he speaks again.

“I’ve already set out your first exam on poisons and elixirs in my office. We will begin in there.”

With a wave of his hand, the books and notebooks strewn across my desk levitate, as does the bag hanging from my chair. They float through the air to a silver metal door behind his chalkboards. It squeaks open, and warm orange light spills across the stone floor.

Bael takes a step back and gestures towards it.

“After you.”

Rising on shaking knees, I gather my discarded cloak and fold it in my arms over my chest. I walk towards his office, his large body close behind mine. Once inside, the sight steals my breath.

A large hearth with a roaring fire snaps and crackles but puts off no eat. Hundreds of tall black and white candles make up the warm ambiance. A large maple wood desk sits in front of a high-back leather chair. Various papers and pots of ink are littered across its surface. On the walls hang various dissected bugs and plants. Five large bookcases take up any open free space—each nearly bursting with the amount of volumes stuffed on each shelf.

I glance at him over my shoulder, a smile on my lips.

“It smells like you in here.”

A shiver rolls through him, but he says nothing. I sink into the plush leather chair across from his desk. The cool material tickles my bare skin. I note that, with some interest, he doesn’t shut the door.

He settles in across from me, and I realize how deep I’ve fallen into all this. I’m hanging on his every word—every touch. If he breathed on me correctly, I would climax from it. This is wrong, and I don’t want it to stop. Ever.

Bael’s large hand runs over the parchment before him. My first exam—the only one I did seemingly decent on—now glares up at me with its barely passing grade. The High Warlock flips through it momentarily, a muscle in his jaw ticking before glancing up at me again.

“What do you remember from this lesson?”

Heat erupts on my cheeks, and it’s a fight not to drop his stare.

“Very little,” I admit.

Bael nods once, and with a wave of his hand, my notebook flops open to a blank page. A pen with a fresh pot of ink slides towards me.

“Then let us start at the beginning, yes?”

I nod eagerly and snatch up my pen.

“To understand death, we must first learn its causes. While it seems scary to some, it is a part of life. What is given must always be returned. But how? Time, of course, takes many. Illness, as well. But then there are more measured means of inflicting death that we have control over. Let’s go over a few of those now…”

I hang on to Bael’s every word. Somehow, now that he’s only speaking to me, they seem to have a more substantial impact. He talks slower, rephrasing things in ways so I comprehend. After a few minutes of listening to his lecture, I understand better than ever before.

Not to mention, his authoritative teaching voice is turning me obscenely slippery between my thighs. Goddess help me.

As Bael continues, one thing becomes painfully clear to me: It won’t be easy to walk away from him at the end. I have a sinking suspicion that once all this is said and done, doing so might just break my heart.