Page 5 of Cursed by the Love Witch (A Monstrous Holiday #2)

5

DARCEE

S oft tweeting followed by rhythmic taps at my window wakes me.

With a groan, I blink my eyes open, only to be greeted by darkness. How long have I been asleep? A few hours, maybe. When I returned to my room last night, I couldn’t get my head to stop spinning. There was still a chance he hadn’t taken the potion—it was the last bit of hope I was clinging to.

I considered taking my sleeping dram but worried I wouldn’t wake up for detention. If you had told me yesterday that I was eagerly awaiting the High Warlock’s arrival at dawn, I never would’ve believed you. Yet, as I rise from my mused sheets and strip out of my dress from yesterday, I’m praying to the Goddess that he’s there.

The burnt remnants of my good luck spells still lay in ash on my desk. I poured everything into undoing my mistake until exhaustion forced me into bed. I dress solemnly for the occasion, donning a white collar shirt and black skirt before tying my cloak around my neck.

Scraping my hair back into a high ponytail, I grab my books and exit my room. Hardly anyone is stirring this early, especially after last night's party. Most are indeed already nursing a rough hangover. I wish a sore head was the only thing plaguing me this morning.

The scent of fresh grass and misty morning air filter in through the open windows. My heeled boots clack along the stone floor. The eerie silence leaves me with nothing else to do but think.

After learning about what he did for Mistress Saege, I see the High Warlock in a different light. While he may have disdain for me, I can understand it to an extent. The subject he teaches is dangerous, and my lack of understanding is cause for concern. Buried beneath the disapproval, is there a part of him worrying about my safety?

I may be cutting him too much slack in that case. Still, I can admit what I did was rash and ill-advised. My temper was flaring hot yesterday, and I made an angry judgment call. If I want to be a good witch, I cannot allow my emotions to override my common sense like that.

I thought this final year would be my chance to start a new chapter. After graduation, I would open my apothecary and never look back again. It would be the final cutting of a cord I’ve still been hanging on to. Now, I fear I’ve ruined whatever fresh start I could’ve had before it even began.

I could kick myself for being such a fool.

The journey to the tower was quick due to the lack of foot traffic. The door before me looms, the last barrier before I face what I’ve done. When he doesn’t show, what shall I do? Raise the alarm? Continue as I would before and never own up to my actions?

Warmth licks over the side of my face as the morning sun rises—streaks of gold and pink filter in through the stained glass window. With a deep sigh, I grip the door handle and pull it. The metal groans and echoes up the stairwell after me.

Pushing into the room, I take in the stillness. No one is here, and the room is cloaked in shadow. The last tendrils of hope leave me, and I collapse against the nearest worktable. My throat closes, and tears seep from my eyes. I was close to getting everything I wanted, but now I’ve ruined it.

I have to confess.

I’ll find Mistress Saege and tell her. My punishment will be swift. I can kiss my future apothecary goodbye and any hopes of bringing more lovers together. A fresh sob falls from my lips, and I almost collapse to the floor.

Why hadn’t I tried another path? Why did I even think?—

The door behind me creaks open, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I whirl around, my eyes falling on the male who’s just walked in. His eyes—violet eyes I never thought I’d see again—are bloodshot with dark shadows under them. He’s dressed in black satin pants and a matching shirt. His cape drags behind him like spilled ink.

“You’re here,” he whispers.

I nearly sag with relief at the sound of his deep voice. He didn’t take it. Merciful Goddess. She heard my prayers and took pity on me. The High Warlock takes a tentative step forward. His eyes are wild, as if he were seeing me for the first time. He’s probably thrown off by how happy I am to see him.

“Detention,” I say, my voice cracking on the last word.

His eyes widen as he stares at me intently. The High Warlock traces along the tears drying on my cheeks. I try to stand even though my knees still feel weak.

“You were crying. Why?” he asks sharply.

I shake my head, a laugh bubbling out of me.

“They’re tears of joy.”

The side of his mouth kicks up, and I’m happy that the desk supports me. A smile from the High Warlock is shocking enough to send me staggering to the floor.

“Joy, is what you feel spending a morning’s detention with me?”

I nod. “Believe me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

His eyes flash, and he sucks in a breath. Slowly, he approaches, his earthy scent tickling my nose. I lean back against the desk. My head tilts up to keep his gaze. His eyes dip down to my lips momentarily, and I watch his hands fall to either side of me.

“I feel the same,” he whispers.

Our bodies are so close, and I’m nothing if not confused. This is unexpected. I’m feeling a little off-kilter because I expected to find him in a sleep meant to last a decade. Therefore, my brain is slow to catch up to the fact that the High Warlock is very close.

And is looking at me like he wants to devour me whole.

His face looms close to mine. My eyelashes flutter at the heat I can feel pouring from his body. I’m shocked by how pleasant I find it. I’m now drifting closer towards this male that I've spent weeks loathing. Yesterday, I wanted him out of my life forever. Now, my face is tilting up towards his.

His nostrils flare, and his eyes blaze deeper.

“High Warlock,” I breathe. “What are you?—”

“Call me, Bael,” he whispers. “Please.”

“I don’t?—”

“Don’t make me beg. I will.”

My mouth goes dry at his words. What is happening? I’ve never seen him like this. He’s typically so aloof and cold. Being near him had always put me on edge, and now I watch his hands slide closer to me on the desk. When they reach me, what will he do? Our bodies are so close that my chest will brush him if I breathe too deeply.

Licking his lips, his voice drips like warm honey all over my skin.

“Please, little witch. Say my name. I need to hear it from your perfect mouth.”

“I—” Speechlessness is not something I’ve ever been afflicted with.

However, as his hands go to the curve of my waist and mine rise to his strong shoulders, I find nothing to say. I’m on fire. His touch is burning me alive. He may as well be feeling my naked skin. Part of me wants to rub all over him like a kitten—purring and preening for his attention.

It’s like we are two puppets, and the universe is pulling our strings. If I were an objective third party, like I usually am in these situations, I could see how something like this could happen. After spending weeks together, we would find unbridled passion buried beneath the disdain and annoyance.

Hate and love are two sides of the same coin.

His hands grip me tighter, and I feel his warm breath against my lips. It feels nice—more than pleasant. It feels as if he stops touching me, I’ll die. I’ve been lonely for so long. However, I can’t remember ever feeling this alight by being touched by another. Even in our headiest days, Marius didn’t have this sort of effect on me. It’s confusing and wrong.

Wrong .

Yes, this is very wrong. He is my teacher—my teacher who is letting me fail his course, my teacher whom I feel nothing but hatred for—yes, I hate him. Don’t I? Maybe hate is too strong. Regardless, we have to stop this. Now.

Beyond him being my teacher, he’s decades older than me. He isn’t human. Yet, that knowledge sends a delicious thrill down my spine. His lips are so close. Tempting me to meet them with my own. What would they feel like? Would they be warm? Would they part and?—

His thumbs drag along my ribs, and the sensation rocks me back into my body.

“What are you doing?” I demand. My hands fall from his shoulders and give a shove to his chest.

The High Warlock—Bael—stumbles back. His chest rises and falls as if he’s been running. Long, gray fingers grip the table behind him, turning white. Blinking several times, he shakes his head.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Darcee—Miss Thistle.”

Licking my lips, I swallow against my dry throat, trying to forget how much I enjoyed his touch.

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Things happen.”

That’s putting it mildly. He’s just come on to me. My teacher—Bael, and I liked it. I more than liked it. There must be something wrong with me. Has my loneliness made me this desperate for any sort of attention? I slipped him a sleeping potion, and then, not even twelve hours later, I was considering kissing him.

I rub my hand against my forehead.

“No,” he says, locking our gazes once more. “I’m sorry for being so awful to you all this time. I also wish to apologize for coming on strong just now—it wasn’t my intention—it’s just….I’ve made a few realizations recently.”

“About what?” I ask.

“You.” The breath freezes in my lungs.

“Me? I thought you hated me?”

His eyes widen.

“Hated you? No, I hold you in the highest esteem.”

I let out a humorless chuckle.

“My grade and your demeanor towards me in this class state otherwise.”

He cringes at my words.

“I realize now I may have been overly harsh on you. Allow me to rectify that.”

I hold my breath as he walks past me and towards his desk. Reaching into the mess of drawers, he pulls a stack of papers and beckons me over. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I follow. He sets out the parchment, and I pick one up, recognizing it immediately.

“My old exams.”

He nods, tucking a longer piece of dark hair behind his pointed ear.

“I wanted to offer you the opportunity to retake your old exams and improve your grade before the end of the semester.”

I sketch a brow.

“I appreciate that, but if I couldn’t pass them before when the lesson was fresh, I don’t know what good retaking them now would do.”

Bael runs a long finger over the front of one of my old tests. I observe him, noting the color dancing on his cheeks. Surely, the formidable High Warlock isn’t blushing.

“I offer to reteach you the subjects one-on-one. We’d meet daily to review each lesson, and then I’d let you retake the tests.”

It’s the second time in the last ten minutes Bael has rendered me speechless. It can’t be that easy. I was desperate to change my grade—so desperate that I concocted a sleeping potion to solve my problems. Now, I’m being allowed to fix them properly.

“That’s very generous of you,” I whisper.

He glances up at me, his eyes swimming with hope.

“Maybe then you would be more willing to let me prove myself.”

“Prove yourself?”

“I’m not very good at this, so I’ll just come out and say it.” He straightens his spine and pins me with a warm stare. “I like you, Darcee. I’d be honored if you allowed me the chance to show you just how much.”

My mouth falls open. Of all the things he could’ve said, I never expected that. Who is this male, and who replaced my hard-ass necromancy professor with him? There is an eagerness to him—an almost boyish-like whimsy to his gaze. That stiff demeanor has melted away, and now all that’s left is the male underneath it all. A male I don’t think many have seen.

“I’m sorry I came on so strong before.” His violet eyes darken. “Seeing you in here—it did something to me. Since last night, I realized I’m done hiding how I’ve felt for you. I had to tell you the truth.”

“The truth—that you like me, like me ?” I ask.

“Very much. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I repeat. “Well, for one, you’ve been nothing but cold and dismissive to me since I stepped foot in your class. Not to mention, it’s highly inappropriate for us even to be having this conversation. You're my professor. If anyone overheard us, we’d be in trouble.”

“You’re more than worth the risk,” he says. “But I understand its optics do look bad. You’re graduating in a few weeks. I can be discreet until then.”

He clears his throat.

“That is, um, again, all depending on you. If you feel nothing for me, my offer to help with your grade still stands. Just tell me now, and we’ll never have to speak of this again. I swear to you.”

I take in this confusing male before me. His eyes are clear, yet there is a feverish intensity to him. What has brought on this sudden change? It would be easier to believe he was replaced by some unknown twin than to accept that my surly necromancy professor is capable of feelings, wildly romantic feelings for me, that have seemingly manifested overnight.

It’s almost like?—

My stomach tips and bile crawls up my throat. I look at him, really look at him. The flushed skin, the sparkling eyes, the frenzied energy. All the signs are there. Normal people wouldn’t pick up on them, but I do. It’s my job to see them—and, more importantly, make them appear.

He’s clearly under the effects of a love potion. But how? When could he have possibly?—

I smack myself in the forehead with the palm of my hand.

Prue’s silence last night no longer seems so innocent. Oh Goddess, what have I done now? I’m swearing off making potions for a good while. I’m not out of this mess just yet.

“Darcee?” Bael asks, his voice concerned.

“I—I have to go,” I say.

His shoulders slump. A look of defeat haunts his eyes.

“Of course, I understand. I was foolish to think—hope—that you would be open to such an idea. My offer of tutoring remains if you wish it.”

The look on his face tugs at my heart. The love potion I gave him was a powerful one. Not to mention the enhancement because of my blood. It will be in his system for a while. I'll come clean once my suspicions are confirmed and I find Prue’s sleeping body. Then, I’ll find a more experienced witch to make him an antidote.

If I tried to tell him the truth now, in his current state, he would just deny it. He believes himself in love with me, and I don’t want to cause him any more distress. In this fragile state, he needs to be handled with care. A rejection when the potion is so freshly ingested can have harsh consequences.

With a sigh, I round to his side of the desk. My hand goes to his arm, and he looks down at me. As wrong as it is, I much prefer this male. If this is how Bael acts when he is in love, the person he is meant to be with will be in for a treat.

“Look, I just need some time to think. This is all happening very fast.”

Slowly, his hand raises, pausing, waiting for me to say no. When I don’t, I feel the warm press of his palm against my cheek. I suck in a breath at the gentle touch. It makes me ache in ways I never have before.

“Not for me. I’ve felt this way about you for as long as I can remember.”

I hide my cringe as best I can. Goddess, why did I have to make the potion that intense? I lean into his touch and watch him hiss out a breath. I allow myself this moment to revel in his comfort.

“I need to check on something, but I’ll see you later. For class.”

He nods once before dropping my cheek.

Walking to the desk, I quickly scoop my books up and head for the door. I pause for a moment, and I will myself not to look back. It matters little as I feel his eyes upon me down the stairs and into the main hall.