Page 23 of Just One Bite

Chapter Seventeen

Olivia

"I don't want you to go. I'll miss you," he says, while my head rests on his bare chest.

I trace circles with my fingers, savoring every beat of his heart. I don't want to wake up.

“There’s assigned seating.” Someone in the official Doxlothia staff uniform motions to the door. Too young to be a teacher, must be some type of professor’s assistant.

I read the chart, which appears to be hand drawn, and once again, I’m curious as to what the school spends its money on. Once I’m settled into a seat, I skim the book on my desk. Enchantments and Elixirs for the Curious. There’s nothing like this in Groveshire.

Groveshire is primarily a human town. That’s why my dad wanted us to stay.

Humans have a habit of sticking to what they know.

Many still opt to be magic and elixir free.

Just like there’s still a whole range of people who take hormonal birth control to prevent pregnancy even though there’s an elixir that’s one hundred percent effective.

There are still humans out there who don’t want to be part of the program and don’t trust it in its entirety.

That’s why they flock to secluded places and primarily human towns get formed.

Vampires stay close to the city where the pool of donors stays large.

Goose bumps rise on my arm seconds before Parker walks through the door with his bag slung over his shoulder and blood smeared on his forehead.

He lights up when he spots me. After a quick wink, he eyes the chart, then his smile widens.

I watch till he disappears behind me. A chair screeches against the hard floor as he drags it from his desk.

“Hey, baby.” His breath is on my neck.

What are the chances he’d be seated right next to me in the same class?

I’ve never had a nickname. I don’t even let my sisters shorten my name.

“Quick kiss?”

I scoff. “There’s barely anyone in here.”

“Oh, right.” His fingers play with the ends of my hair.

“You can’t distract me. I know nothing about this stuff, and I want to learn.”

“Are you that easily distracted by me?”

I sigh, watching the others take their seats.

The class is divided into thick wooden desks that each have an old iron sink and a drain in the pebble floor.

There is a windowed ceiling with green vines spread out and flourishing in the sun.

It’s breathtaking and rich with history.

Along the stone walls are pictures of professors from many years before.

The sun hits the colored stone and casts a soft rainbow in the air.

“How did ballet go today? I wanted to drop by to watch, but we’re prepping for the moon festival. It’s an offseason tournament. A bunch of other schools are coming to play, and my team is not ready.”

“You'd want to watch me?”

“Yeah, definitely. Is that not a thing? Will it embarrass you to have your boyfriend there?” Parker leans in close to my face.

My cheeks heat. "No. I just didn't think you'd want to."

Since my mom died, no one in my family watches me dance unless it's for a big performance. I can't blame them. It brings up memories.

"If I get in, then I'll probably be in the studio late. You could come then."

I say it casually like not getting accepted wouldn’t be the biggest blow to my ego and leave me in shambles.

Ballet is the only thing that filled my time in Groveshire, but everything was low stakes there.

My ballet school wasn’t prestigious, and before Doxlothia, I’d prepared myself to audition for a smaller, lesser-known company.

"You'll get in," Parker says, nonchalantly.

The professor greets the class, and I try my best to pay attention while Parker’s calloused fingers linger in my hair. Every time he brushes the skin on the back of my neck, I have to refocus.

“Everyone, take a look at your table. We have the supplies set up that we will be going over step-by-step. Your table mate will also be your partner for the semester. Go ahead and mingle with them for a minute.”

Parker lightly bites my shoulder.

“Hi, partner.”

I’m not sure Parker is my type. I haven’t put much thought into what my type is, but the only person I’ve ever dated was serious, calculated, and possibly even more ambitious than me. And that’s saying something.

I think Parker is ambitious too, but in a different way.

You don’t become captain of the top Rage team without the skill or drive.

I know that after observing Doxlothia. It’s not about money, though that’s important.

Everyone here is the best of the best or wants to be.

It’s all about talent, strength, and status.

“Will you take this seriously?”

“Oh, I live seriously. I know a lot more about potions than you. I’ll be a great teacher. Can you handle that? Someone telling you what to do?”

My cheeks warm. His eyes rake over me, slowly, deliberately. This is all part of an act, Olivia. Get it together. You can’t let a flirty man get under your skin this easily. It’s embarrassing.

“I won’t take orders from you.”

“You sure?”

He’s looking at my lips, and I shift my attention to the veins in his forearms. Again.

“Now, your first assignment and the elixir we will be constructing is Nexum Adoratia.”

The students groan, and I scribble it in my notebook. I know a handful of the most common elixirs, but they’re all medical related.

“I know, I know, but it’s the base level elixir for a number of others we’re going to cover this semester and the number one most asked about. I like to knock it out quickly. We’ll be running through as many social potions and elixirs as we can, and then we’ll move on to medical.”

“What does it do?” I ask Parker.

“It basically just makes you more open. It gives you that feeling when you drink alcohol and the wall comes down and you suddenly don’t care what people think of you.”

“You’ve had it before?”

“Oh, yeah, I made one with my friends when I was like fifteen. Some people call it a love potion because of how many people have fallen in love because they were under the influence of it.”

The groans of protest make sense.

“Will you try it?” Parker bats his lashes at me. “Open yourself up a little?”

I’m glad the elixir takes weeks to cure.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

The professor explains the ingredients one by one. And then it’s time for the demonstration. We’re allowed to work among ourselves or follow along.

“Okay, so we’re using the wolfstone cauldron, do you know why?” Parker says.

“Are you going to tell me?”

He places a hand on top of mine, guiding it into the cauldron. With two fingers, he presses mine into the stone. Liquid heat runs through me and up to my ears. His fingers curl into mine, and the pads of my fingers run over the rough, cool surface.

“Feel that?” he asks.

I nod and untuck my hair from behind my ear in case my flush is obvious.

“It’s thicker, and the little indentations in the stone make it a good heat conductor. You need really high heat to make Nexum Adoratia.”

“Aren’t you knowledgeable,” I jest.

“I’m more than a pretty face.” He chuckles. “Potions are kinda my favorite. My coach is an expert.”

“Now.” He removes my hand and turns it over. His tongue wets his bottom lip, and he smiles like he’s holding in a joke. After opening a glass container named Betwitched Milk Clay , he scoops out a dusty-blue bead of paste with flecks of gold. “This clay reacts with the oils on your skin.”

I inhale while he spreads it across my palm with his thick thumb. He pads over my pulse and up to my fingertips, and the clay folds and smooths.

“I can do it,” I say.

“You’re right, I should be having you do this on my palm.”

We scrape the clay into the cauldron, and he has me open a vial with a cork stopper and pour in the liquid. Then we take the wings off a dead Lucaria Moth with a pair of tweezers and drop it in.

“Do you know how to mix it?” he asks.

“I’m sure the professor will tell me.”

I tune back into her teaching, but she’s still a few steps behind and helping another group.

Parker grins and leans back in his chair to watch me. “Ask me nicely.”

“Show me.”

He waits, his gaze floating on my lips, then up to my brow, which is bent from annoyance at his stalling.

“Please, show me.”

“Oh, baby, I’ll show you whatever you want me to.”

I roll my eyes and wait while he grabs the stick and stirs it like you would anything else.

“See, simple.”

He leans back in his chair, and I square my shoulders.

“You’re exhausting.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”