Page 31 of Spellcaster (Weatherstone College #1)

Heat woke me first. My body arched on the bed as the pain slashing through my side added to the sensation of being lit on

fire. A shadow washed over my face, and a scream ripped from me before I recognized the flash of icy green.

The heat was from Logan, his hands pressed to my side as power flooded into me with enough intensity I wondered if he was

planning on finishing the job the monster started. My screams faded into whimpers, and Logan met my gaze. “Breathe, Precious.

Breathe through the pain.”

Easy for him to say.

I arched again, fighting the urge to punch the warlock trying to save my life. “The monster?” I managed to gasp, sweat pouring

off me from the power.

“You weakened it,” he rumbled. “I finished the job.”

My relief was short-lived, before I was back to the pain again. Every nerve ending in my body was lit up, flames razing them

to the ground. “Am I dying?”

Logan’s unamused laughter rasped over my sensitive and burning skin. “Your life has been in my hands for years, and I’m not

ready for it to end yet.”

Yet. “This is why people are afraid of you,” I sniped, but my breathless voice took away the bite.

“That’s not the reason,” he replied, “now stay still so I can save your life.” Again.

There was another burst of energy, and after I arched into the power, the searing pain in my side finally eased. Logan lifted his right hand into a higher position, but when it brushed over the crystal we both jumped from a strong shock of what felt like electricity.

Reaching for the stone, I found it resting against bare skin—Logan must have removed parts of my shredded shirt to assess

the injuries. My bra was still on at least.

“Did your crystals just zap me?” he asked, a wary expression creasing his face. I tried to sit up, and he placed a firm hand

against my chest, and I swear I got as much voltage from that touch as I had from the crystals. “Lie down. You’re not completely

healed. The internal injuries remain.”

Which explained why my lungs ached with each deep breath. “I just want to remove the crystals.”

We didn’t need to be zapped on top of everything else. Lifting my head enough to get them off, Logan grabbed their chains,

careful not to touch the crystals as he placed them on his side table. He eyed them for a long moment, assessing, before returning

the full force of his gaze on me. It was too much. Caught in his focus, I half wondered if I might not have been safer with

the monster.

Still, choices made in a dying moment couldn’t be held against me, so I relaxed and let him press his hands to my side once

more, that all-consuming heat filling me. When my insides started to knit together, I jerked and caught myself on one strong,

inked forearm. His eyes snapped to meet mine, but I couldn’t let go. It was an anchor stabilizing me in the storm of his power.

His power burned but it wasn’t fire; it was creation, and beyond what any of us should control. My energy responded to his,

now that he was sending it deeper, and just as it had that day in his first spellcaster class, my power rose, bringing with

it a completely different sort of ache.

It started with a pulse in my core, until need shattered through my gut and out into my limbs.

Visions of my dreams filled my mind, those mornings waking with the echoing memories of his hands on my body.

In real life, we’d never touched like this, but in my dreams he knew me intimately.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” I whispered.

Even in my dreams, that part of him was always in shadow.

His eyes were the only part that reflected clearly.

“Why would you?” He assessed me. Delved deeper. Stripped back the essence of my being.

Unsure if this was blood loss, or the pure presence of Logan, I tried to shake off the need flooding me. Shake off the familiarity

that had me wanting to lift my head and press my lips to his. His perfect full lips that haunted me.

An animalistic rumble shook his chest, and when my hand on his arm started to glow, I was close enough to see his eyes darken.

“Logan,” I mumbled, lifting my other hand toward his face.

There was a moment, as his eyes deepened to moss, that I swore he was going to kick me out of his room. Instead, he leaned

closer enough that minty evergreen invaded my nostrils.

“What are you doing, Paisley?”

The way he asked that question, it was as if he already knew the answer. An answer that was carved into our bones, as permanent

as the power within us. Later, I’d blame my next actions on almost dying and being hopped up on our combined powers, but for

now I was beyond such rational thought.

The driving force within me was need, desire, and desperation.

The dreams had brought me to my knees, literally , many times, and tonight their hold was relentless.

I lifted my head to find the pain manageable, the movement bringing me closer to Logan’s face.

We both stilled as energy crackled be tween us.

“Fuck it.” I lost my mind and thrust myself forward to slam my lips to his.

There was a beat where his mouth parted, and then another beat where we were locked together until he tore away. Shame crashed

into me as hard as the lust had, and Logan stared down at me as if he had no fucking idea what I was. Feeling the flush of

embarrassment coat my cheeks, along with most of my body—this was big shame —I was about to stammer out an apology, when another low rumble escaped his body.

His hand shot under the back of my head faster than I could track, pulling me against him as his tongue parted my lips. The

kiss deepened so fast that my head spun, and without conscious thought my fingers tangled in his shirt, desperate for more.

Logan was an immovable wall when he wanted to be, so I tugged against him. “You’re injured,” he bit out.

“More,” I demanded, mindless with the sensations filling me. “This is healing me.”

We both felt the heat of his power knitting my body back together. Our kiss brought our powers closer, and I couldn’t have

stopped now. Not even if a monster burst through the door.

Logan lifted his head and examined my side, his brow furrowing as he found evidence of my words. “You want my power like this,

Precious?” he asked.

His power. Him. Every fucking part of the spellcaster. “I need it,” I admitted. There was no way I should be this vulnerable with my enemy,

but in this moment I was base instinct and desperation.

With my consent expressly given, Logan’s kisses turned demanding, drugging, and they tasted like power.

He pressed me into the bed, hands tracing across my skin, skimming the top of my bra before it all but dissolved under his touch. Spellcasters, able to manipulate energy, could create and destroy as easily as that. But he hadn’t destroyed me . . . yet.

He kissed along my neck and down my chest, his mouth burning against my skin as I shifted against the sensations driving me

out of my mind. If I didn’t get an orgasm out of this night, Logan would have wasted his time on the healing, because I was

about to combust.

His lips closed around my nipple, tongue sliding across the hard peak, and I felt a pull all the way to my pussy. Even my

clit throbbed in response. “Goddess be damned,” I moaned, the heat consuming me.

Or was it Logan? One and the same, really.

He explored every inch of my skin and was thorough, just like the dreams, leaving me with a disconcerting sense of familiarity.

This was a billion times more intense, as if I’d felt everything before tonight through a filter.

Logan and I were strangers, and yet he’d been in my mind for months, in my dreams, even longer, and destroying my world with

barely any effort at all. When his touch smoothed over my black panties, the lace on the sides strained against his initial

tug. His teeth scraped over my lower stomach muscles and I arched against him, and almost sobbed when his power dissolved

my underwear, leaving me bare.

Bare, and at the mercy of a powerful spellcaster, my enemy who kept saving my life, confusing me.

Logan kissed along my thighs so slowly that I went a little insane, and when his huge hands wrapped around them, he parted

my legs just as slowly. Logan hadn’t said a word since You want my power . I expected it to feel awkward, but all I had was the pulse of our powers as they crashed together.

I cried out when his tongue, hot and firm, grazed across my clit, sucking the sensitive flesh inside his mouth. Low mewling slipped from my lips as I rocked against him, and his grip on my thighs tightened, holding me so he had the access he desired.

The pleasure was already circling too fast and hard, and there was no way I could hold on to an orgasm, not when I’d been

desperate for this for months. The sexy dreams had driven me to the edge of my sanity, but the real Logan... he was sending

me right over.

Grasping the sheets with both hands, my cries grew louder, but I was past caring who might hear us. Logan groaned into me

as he plunged his tongue inside. When he pulled away, he licked from my ass to the top of my pussy, and I could hear how wet

I was.

My days stalking Logan had already clued me into his discipline; he did nothing by halves. Eating pussy was no exception.

He settled between my thighs and explored my body so thoroughly that when pleasure shattered me into my first orgasm, he just

drank in everything I offered, his relentless mouth-fucking sending me over the edge again.

Releasing my hold on the sheets, I threaded my fingers through his hair to hold him, and he finally freed my thighs from his

grip, allowing me to ride his face. I cried out as once more I exploded.

Dreams and reality collided, and Logan drew out the pleasure until I felt as if I was about to black out. When my limbs collapsed

bonelessly onto the bed, the fire of his power released me and he pulled away. As my eyes flew open, I found him standing

fully dressed on the side of the bed. Dread mingled with pleasure; he’d never even gotten naked, while I was completely and

thoroughly destroyed.

“What—” I had to clear my throat. “What happened?”

“Our power.” His lips were glossy, and I found my gaze locked on his full bottom one. “Your healing demanded extra energy from us both, and that’s how it manifested. But you’re healed now.”

Ouch, okay. Message received, dickface.

I was the one getting the orgasms, sure, but his attitude pissed me right off, and if it wasn’t for the impressive and obvious

erection in his black sweats, I’d have wondered if he was affected by me at all.

My legs shook as I stood, but I forced my limbs to cooperate. Logan reached for another one of his fucking hoodies, and before

I could tell him to get fucked he pulled it over my head. Glaring at him when my face came into view, I tried not to enjoy the soft material and minty scent

that wrapped around me. I lusted for the scent and power of this spellcaster, but I’d die before I let him know that.

“Well,” I said, searching for a distraction in his room. There were three or four guitars against the wall in the corner,

which gave me a reprieve from my embarrassment. Was Logan a musician?

“Well...” he pushed, and I remembered I’d started to speak and never finished.

“Thanks for saving me.” And destroying me.

Logan watched me, and I could have sworn our powers were connected still, just from the tension between us. Needing to escape,

I grabbed my crystals and slipped the chains over my head. I was almost at the door, the spellcaster still silent and watchful,

and I found a question slipping out before I could stop it. “Are you creating these monsters?”

If I’d just signed my death warrant, there was no impending feeling of doom.

His expression shuttered, and grew even colder, if that was possible. Moody fucker.

With a sigh, I twisted the handle of his door and opened it to step outside.

“They’re not from my power.” His deep voice stopped me. “And I’m not sure they’re being created. They’re called here.”

Turning back to him, I tried to read further, but he gave nothing else away. My mind raced with implications of what he’d

said. Not being created. “I read that there are monsters in one of the planes of existence, but it’s one that necros can’t touch. How are they called

here? And who would have the power to do that? Dad said it might be a parent feeding dark magic to their child.”

The door opened wider without me touching it, a clear signal for me to get the Hel out of his room. “Your dad isn’t who I’d

go to for magic advice,” he said, a snap of anger in his tone. “Get back to your dorm, Paisley. I’ll keep the monsters away

for the rest of the night.”

Smoothing my hands over his hoodie, I forced my hurt into a box and slammed the lid shut. Logan’s dismissiveness should not

bother me. We were not lovers. Fuck, we weren’t even friends. What had happened in his room was a magical healing, and I’d

broken my dry spell at last.

My body was fully healed and without pain as I raced through the halls to my room. The feeling of being watched stayed with

me, but this time it was Logan.

Keeping the monsters away.

When I was safe in my room, I collapsed against the door, sucking in deep breaths. I’d almost died tonight. I’d almost died,

and Logan saved me again. He’d also given me the most mind-blowing orgasms of my life, and I was once again in his hoodie.

My life was weird.

Despite the healing burst of power from Logan, exhaustion pressed in on me and I stumbled to bed, crashing out with the scent

of mint and power surrounding me.