Page 6 of Hex Appeal (Grimm Mawr #5)

M onday mornings at Grimm Mawr Academy typically involved at least three minor magical mishaps before breakfast. This particular Monday was overachieving spectacularly, as evidenced by the amphibian chorus line Ceries discovered in the east corridor.

She heard the croaking before she saw the cause. Rounding the corner, she found what could only be described as a warty flash mob—a dozen toad-shaped lockers hopping down the hallway while belting out the school fight song with surprising harmony. Papers, quills, and someone's half-finished homework fluttered in their wake like bewildered confetti.

"Oh sweet magic," she muttered, drawing her wand. A flash of movement caught her eye as a particularly determined toad—this one sporting school colors—made a break for the exit. She lunged, diving across the polished floor and catching it mid-hop.

"Professor Frostwind, I trust you have an explanation for why the east wing lockers are attempting a musical number?"

Of course. Because the universe had a wicked sense of humor. Sprawled inelegantly on the floor, wrestling a squirming, croaking locker, she looked up to find Malachai standing over her. One perfect eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly attractive way that made her simultaneously want to hex him and kiss him senseless.

"Would you believe me if I said this was a practical lesson in improvised spell reversal?" She tightened her grip as the toad-locker attempted to demonstrate its bass range.

The corner of his mouth twitched—that tiny almost-smile that did ridiculous things to her pulse rate. "Given that young Mr. Percutchon is hiding behind that plant trying to become invisible, I suspect not."

The freshman in question emerged from behind a fern with a guilty squeak, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. "I'm sorry, Principal Starcatcher. I just wanted to organize my locker and the spell got out of control."

Malachai sighed, rolling up his sleeves in a gesture that should not have been attractive but somehow revealed just enough forearm to be distracting. "Miss Frostwind, shall we?"

Working side by side to corral the escaping amphibians created an unexpected intimacy. Every time they moved close, the air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken tension. The toads, apparently sensing this, abruptly switched their repertoire from the school anthem to what sounded suspiciously like romantic ballads.

By the time they managed to reverse the hex, Malachai's typically pristine tie had developed a distinctly musical croak whenever he moved.

"Well," he said, straightening the rebellious neckwear with as much dignity as one could muster after chasing singing toads, "that was..."

"Ribbiting?" Ceries suggested, unable to resist.

His attempt at a stern glare was undermined by the slight quirk of his lips. "That was terrible."

"Toadally."

"Please stop."

His barely suppressed smile only encouraged her. For a moment, it was just the two of them, covered in magical residue and trying not to laugh—no curriculum disputes, no professional boundaries, just shared amusement at the absurdity of their magical lives. Then another emergency called him away and she walked to her next class feeling dreamy.

"They're definitely into each other,” Ceries overheard a student whisper as she passed a group in the corridor.

“Duh,” another replied. 'My enchanted mood diary keeps writing 'unresolved tension' whenever they're in the same room.”

“My older sister says Principal Starcatcher used to be different,” a third student added. 'Like, before Windermoore. She says he was actually fun and experimental until something went really wrong.'"

Windermoore again.

***

B Y WEDNESDAY, CERIES had almost convinced herself that Monday's amphibian choir would be the week's biggest challenge. Then Pave Cabrales decided to demonstrate a color change hex on her rat familiar.

The pink were-poodle that resulted wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't immediately started converting everything else in the classroom to match. Desk-poodles chased chalk-poodles while the bookshelf-poodle attempted to terrorize smaller book-poodles. It was chaos, but at least it was color-coordinated chaos.

Naturally, this was the exact moment Malachai chose for his scheduled classroom observation.

He managed one dignified "Professor Frostw—" before the were-poodle's hex caught him full in the face. The sight of Grimm Mawr's strait-laced principal sporting perfectly coiffed poodle ears sent Ceries into a fit of barely contained laughter.

"Don't," he warned, but the humor fighting through his stern expression only made it funnier.

"I wouldn't dream of commenting on your new look," she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing outright. "Though I must say, the curl really brings out your eyes."

Their combined casting to reverse the poodle plague had unexpected side effects. The transformed items, before returning to normal, arranged themselves into suspiciously heart-shaped formations. Somewhere, inexplicably, mood music began to play, as if the classroom itself was trying to set a romantic scene.

"Well handled," he said afterward, his voice softer than usual, a slight flush visible at his collar. "Though perhaps we should review safety protocols for transformative hexes."

"Over dinner?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.

His eyes darkened with something that definitely wasn't professional interest. "Professor Frostwind..."

"Right. Professional distance. Sorry." But the way he was looking at her suggested he was finding that distance as difficult to maintain as she was.

***

F RIDAY'S OUTDOOR DEMONSTRATION of weather-control hexes was proceeding flawlessly until Malachai appeared in the courtyard. The moment Ceries spotted him watching from the edge of the gathering, her concentration wavered, and the gentle snow she'd been producing shifted from perfect crystalline flakes to distinctly heart-shaped ones.

"Just a creative teaching technique," she announced to her giggling students, trying to ignore how the wind seemed determined to push her closer to him. The temperature rose and fell unpredictably, mirroring her flustered internal state.

Then disaster struck. Their hands brushed as they both reached to help a student adjust their wand position. The resulting magical surge created a blizzard that would have been impressive even without its blatantly romantic theme. Scarves developed minds of their own, wrapping couples together. Steaming cups of hot chocolate materialized from thin air. Worst of all, magical snowmen began dramatically reenacting scenes from romance novels.

"'Oh Mr. Darcy,'" one snowwoman declared passionately to her newly-formed companion. "'Your frozen heart has melted mine.'"

Ceries vacillated between mortification and amusement as she and Malachai worked to contain the magical storm, dodging enchanted icicles that were writing love poetry in midair.

"This is entirely your fault," she told him as they worked back-to-back, their magic synchronizing perfectly despite their words.

"My fault? I'm not the one who created a romantic blizzard."

"You're the one who showed up looking all..." she gestured vaguely at his entire being, struggling to find words that wouldn't reveal too much. "Principally."

He turned to face her, snowflakes caught in his dark hair like stars. "Principally?"

"You know what I mean. All authoritative and composed and..." she trailed off as she realized how close they were standing.

A perfect snowflake landed on his lips, drawing her attention to his mouth. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them, surrounded by swirling snow that seemed to dance to music only they could hear.

The sound of students cheering as the last snowman couple got engaged broke the spell. They jumped apart, but the damage was done. The entire courtyard had transformed into a romantic winter wonderland that would have made even the most jaded cynic sigh with approval.

"You're good at this,” she said as they contained the last of the animated snowmen.

“I used to teach crisis response,” he said.

“At Windermoore?”

His nod was tight. “Advanced Defense Against Unstable Magic. I was considered somewhat of an expert. Until I wasn't."

She wanted to know more, but surrounded by students and the winter wonderland, she knew the time wasn’t right. When the crisis had been settled into whatever amounted to normal at the Grimm Mawr Academy, they parted ways.

Ceries nearly collided with Headmistress Raven when she walked back inside. The imposing woman was talking in hushed tones with an officially-robed witch Ceries didn't recognize.

“Professor Frostwind,” Raven acknowledged with a nod. 'This is Inspector Shropshire from the Educational Standards Authority. We were just discussing supply chain irregularities.”

“Magical equipment suppliers with exclusive school contracts,” the inspector clarified with a meaningful look at Raven. “Quite fascinating financial arrangements."

***

T HAT EVENING, CERIES was attempting to grade papers when Malachai entered her classroom without knocking. The atmosphere shifted immediately. Desks began sliding toward the walls as if making space for a dance floor. Practice dummies paired up and began a waltz that was surprisingly graceful for creatures made of straw and magic.

"We need to talk," he said, closing the door with a decisive click.

"About the hexes?" She kept her eyes on her papers, pretending fascination with an essay on defensive charm theory.

"About the fact that every magical item in this school seems determined to play matchmaker." He moved closer as protective wards shimmered into existence around them. "About the fact that I can't seem to think straight whenever you're in the room."

Magical theory books on nearby shelves began flipping themselves open to chapters on attraction spells and eternal bonds. Ceries tried to maintain her professional composure, but every step he took toward her scattered her thoughts like startled birds.

"I was simply demonstrating creative applications of basic hexes," she said, standing to face him. "The romantic undertones are purely coincidental."

"Coincidental?" His eyebrow rose as a practice dummy executed a perfect dramatic dip with its partner. "Like the snowmen performing Pride and Prejudice?"

"That was clearly the wind's artistic interpretation." She couldn't help smiling. "Though I'll admit, they had excellent dramatic timing."

"Ceries." The way he said her name—like it was something precious he was allowing himself to taste for the first time—sent a shiver down her spine. "We can't keep pretending this is just about professional differences."

"No?" She stepped closer, drawn by the intensity in his green eyes. "Then what is it about, Principal Starcatcher?"

The chalk floating near the blackboard seemed to hold its breath, poised expectantly.

"It's about how watching you handle chaos with creativity and confidence makes me question every rigid rule I've ever believed in." His voice dropped lower, intimate. "It's about how seeing you laugh while reversing a were-poodle crisis makes me forget why I ever thought control was more important than joy."

"Malachai..." She couldn't find the words to respond, too captivated by the vulnerability in his expression.

"It's about how maintaining professional distance is becoming impossible when everything around us seems determined to remind me of that night at The Crooked Wand."

The air around them seemed to shimmer and pulse with magic as they drew closer. Colors exploded in her peripheral vision like silent fireworks. The classroom appeared to fold inward, creating a bubble where only they existed.

"We shouldn't," she whispered, even as her hands slid up his chest to fix the tie that had been driving her to distraction for weeks.

"Probably not," he agreed, pulling her closer until she could feel his heartbeat. "But I'm learning that sometimes the most correct path isn't always the right one."

When their lips met, it felt like completing a spell—a rush of power and rightness that transformed everything around them. Books released cascades of rose petals. The blackboard began writing poetry that would have made Shakespeare jealous. The practice dummies froze mid-dance to applaud enthusiastically.

Ceries lost herself in the kiss, in the feeling of Malachai's carefully maintained control crumbling beneath her touch. His hands tangled in her hair as he backed her against the edge of her desk.

"Mal," she gasped between kisses, "we need to be careful."

"You're worried about being careful?" He traced a path of kisses down her neck. "You?"

"I shouldn't want this so badly," she murmured as the items on her desk scattered, moments before he laid her down across it.

"I'm tired of pretending I'm not fascinated by every spell you cast, every rule you break, every wild idea you have," he said, his voice husky with desire as he began removing layers of clothing between them.

“And I’m tired of wearing out my vibrator’s batteries thinking about our first time together. I want some new memories.” She sank down to her knees in front of him as he cast off his robe. “I want you.”

She unfastened his pants, reached inside and took his cock into her mouth. Eagerly, she bobbed her head back and forth as he cradled her face in his hands. He gently pumped his hips and she clenched her hands around his ass as she swallowed and sucked on him. His hands fisted in her hair, a soft groan escaping him as she expertly teased him with her lips, savoring every inch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasped out, trembling with need.

She doubled her efforts until he shook apart. Holding her head tight against his hips, he fucked her mouth and came down her throat. Ceries licked him clean, savoring the taste of his release.

“Come here,” he growled and pulled her to her feet.

She was already soaked, but he fingered her to a quick orgasm while their tongues stroked against each other. Shaking and on tiptoes, she loved the feel of him rubbing against her clit.

"You know," she panted, her breaths ragged, "this isn't very professional."

Malachai smirked, his eyes dark with hunger. "Professionalism is overrated."

"I couldn't agree more," she said.

Stripping her naked, he bent her over the desk and pushed inside her. Ceries hissed in pleasure as he sank deep inside her. Her body still tingling she welcomed the thick slide of his cock.

He pulled out almost completely, then thrust back in hard. It felt so damned good. Her nails dug into the wooden desk surface as he continued his relentless rhythm.

"You're so tight," he groaned, thrusting deeper. "Show me how much you want me."

"I want more," she panted, reaching back to pull him closer. "Give me more."

He responded by increasing his pace, driving deeper into her with each thrust. The room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and their heavy breathing. Her heart raced as he moved within her, the feeling of his body against hers making her shiver. She looked back at him and smiled as he kissed her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

"Ceries, I can't... I won't last much longer," he panted, his breath hot against her skin.

"Then don't," she urged him, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Give me everything you have."

He took her words as a challenge, increasing his pace until they were both teetering on the edge. The building pleasure was almost unbearable, magic and desire intertwined until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Her release crashed through her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting at once. She cried out his name as ecstasy claimed her, her body pulsing around him. The sensation triggered his own climax, his arms tightening around her as he found his release.

For a moment, neither moved—connected, sated, breathing in tandem. The air around them still shimmered with magical aftereffects, the classroom aglow with tiny sparks of light that drifted like fireflies.

Later, much later, when they finally managed to separate, Ceries felt a contentment she hadn't experienced in years. Malachai looked different somehow—his perfectly ordered appearance pleasantly disheveled, his expression open and unguarded in a way she'd only glimpsed before.

"That was..." he began, then trailed off, apparently failing to find adequate words.

"Magical?" she supplied with a grin.

His laugh was soft but genuine, wrapping around her like a caress. "I was going to say 'worth waiting for,' but yes. Definitely magical."

The classroom, apparently satisfied with its matchmaking efforts, had settled into a peaceful glow. Outside, the evening stars winked through the windows, as if the universe itself approved of what had just transpired.

Ceries knew there would be complications tomorrow—curriculum disputes to resolve, professional boundaries to reconsider, Thorncraft's manipulations to address. But for now, there was just this moment: Malachai's arms around her, both of them finally honest about what they wanted, and the feeling that something important had finally fallen into place.