Page 41 of Spellcaster (Weatherstone College #1)

We moved around the students scattered across the grassy area and inside the massive chapel.

The chapel itself was longer and wider than the library—aka former chapel—and easily housed the full four years of students and professors at Weatherstone.

When we entered the building, a warlock with curly red hair rushed right over to us, and I caught the distinct scent of lavender as he held a tray out to us.

Along with a telltale sign of that pearlescent foam to indicate that they were serving witch wine.

“Seriously?” Belle gaped, looking at me.

I nodded. “I see it too,” I breathed.

“What in the love of Selene is happening?” Sara asked, already reaching for a glass.

The warlock’s grin was lascivious, and it bothered me. “It’s limited,” he drawled, “the glasses are spelled to look like regular

wine, so don’t mention it, okay?” The smarmy wink at the end was not needed. We already got he was a creep.

We picked up glasses, mostly so we could get away from him, and I took a small drink. I’d only ever had a sip before of my

parents’ wine, and as soon as that burn trailed down my throat and heated my chest, I knew I needed to go easy.

If this was a prime time for another monster encounter, I couldn’t let my guard down.

The four of us strolled around the chapel, Belle and Sara downing their first glass of wine in gulps, while Haley followed

my example and gingerly sipped at hers. It was earthy, not like dirt, but filled with fresh herbs and an energy that I’d never

tasted before.

When I was half a glass in, I’d more than achieved my desired buzz, my stresses fading away. We explored all the energy inside

the glass-ceilinged chapel and then left the building to chat under the direct moonlight. The blue-tinged orb was huge in

the clear sky, the air crisp, as the landscape of the college tinted in shades of blue and black.

I let my head fall back, feeling the brush of preternatural energy across my skin. Weatherstone was a beacon for power, and

every time I set foot in this place, I found myself energized.

Terrified and energized.

“Little Gem!” I opened my eyes to find Dad and Jenna in front of me.

“Dad, what the freaking Hel are you doing here?” I rasped, before clearing my throat. If I didn’t calm my ass, he’d be on

to the witch wine in seconds. He eyed me closely and I cursed myself, knowing it was too late. Leaning forward, he sniffed

at my glass, recognizing the scent as I had.

“Witch wine,” he grumbled. “And on the night when I’m one of the warlocks on duty.”

I waited for his anger, and to have the wine swiftly confiscated, but he shocked me when he leaned forward and kissed me on

the forehead. “Be careful, sweetheart,” he whispered against my hair. “Go and have fun with your friends.”

Swallowing roughly, I stared at him. “You’re not going to confiscate all the wine getting around?”

He shook his head. “If I don’t see it, then I can’t know it’s there.” His wink was subtle. “I was young once. Limit yourself,

though, and be careful.”

Jenna grinned. “Very careful, little sis. This is the bootlegged version. I think it’s even more potent than the usual stuff.”

Bootlegged, hey. That might explain that undercurrent of darkness.

Jenna’s hug was firm, an all-encasing hug that she’d been giving me for as long as I could remember. She wrapped up every

part of me and felt like home. As she released me, she was already falling into conversation with Dad again, the pair walking

off discussing her coven choices for next year.

I found myself smiling like a weirdo who knew how blessed she was to have such an amazing family.

Turning to find my friends, I locked eyes with Logan, who stood just behind me with Noah, close enough to hear that conversation but not so close that I could tell if they were deliberately listening in.

My stomach tightened, and I wished I had no explanation for it, but I knew. There was a draw to this infuriating spellcaster

that I couldn’t explain. Not even my freshman year of college had cleared up any of the confusion. If anything, it was worse

than ever,

I took a hesitant step toward him, unsure what the Hel I was thinking, but as his jaw tightened and he shook his head, I ground

to a halt. Wait. Nope. That asshole didn’t get to dictate when we talked. Or... engaged... in other activities.

I wasn’t his dirty little secret.

With another dark glint, he turned and walked away, and by the time my feet moved to intercept him and demand answers, there

was no sign of the powerful warlocks. Even if they were both taller than the general population of warlocks here.

Dammit.

You can run, spellcaster. But I would not let him hide.

I’d find him at some point tonight and we’d have this long overdue conversation. The witch wine had me braver and determined

to get to the bottom of the Logan mystery. This chick could only handle so many mysteries in one year.

Taking another sip, I was just under the halfway mark, and could most likely keep a nice buzz all night just from this glass

alone. Of course, the best-laid plans often go off course, especially when one fumed about a warlock. A useless fucking mysterious

powerful asshole of a warlock.

Two hours later, on my third glass of witch wine, I found myself buzzed to the point of sloshed, and there was only one person

to blame.

Logan. The bastard.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” I raged sloppily.

“Treating me like I’m nothing. Then fucking me the next night.

He thinks I’m just his booty-witch, and I tell you what .

. .” I threw my glass in the air, sloshing the sticky wine across my hand.

“I’ll put a stop to that very soon. It will only happen at least four more times, but then I’m done. ”

Belle grasped my hand, swaying. Or was I swaying? Maybe it was the ground. Yep, the ground was swaying. “That barthturd,”

she slurred. “Youith perfect. He’s perfect. Wathis the isshoo here.”

“Exactly,” Sara crowed from my other side, also on the swaying ground. “How dare he hurt our friend. We should hex him.”

What could I say, we were big into hexes. “Great idea,” I declared, attempting to take a step, but the ground decided to also

dip as it swayed. What the fuck? Were we dancing here or something?

“Not a great idea,” Haley said with a snort of laughter. She’d somehow managed to sip only a quarter of her witch wine, and

was very far behind the rest of us in this race. “I think maybe we should get you back to the dorms now.”

“I could shleep here,” Belle said, yawning suddenly. “It’s a nice rocking boath.”

The air grew cooler as water coated her skin, and I looked up for rain, but it was just her power soaking up the moisture

in the air. “Definitely time for the dorms,” I muttered, shaking my head in an attempt to sober up. A failed attempt. “Okay,

let’s go.”

Looping my arms around Belle, I held her against me, and as the drunk led the drunk, we stumbled through the students. Over

them too, as many were with Belle, wanting to sleep on the nice rocking boath .

When we reached the steps leading up to Ancot, we stared at them, wondering if it was even possible for us to make it to the top in our current inebriation. Placing my foot on the first step, it shook worse than the ground.

The moon’s energy was really having a party with the Earth tonight.

“No, you’re drunk, you idiot,” Haley said, shaking her head. “I told you three not to keep taking glasses of wine. You’re

going to regret this tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, tomorrow,” Belle sang, very off-key, and I’d found one of the very few talents she didn’t possess. Girl was not

making choir, that was for sure.

Swallowing hard and trying to focus through blurry vision and swaying ground, I lifted my foot to take the next step and immediately

toppled backward, taking Belle with me. I grunted when my arm and side slammed into the ground, and not even a second later,

I forgot my pain as I was hauled up against a hard chest, a recognizable scent surrounding me. “Logan,” I murmured.

His laughter was as dark as that fucking witch wine. “Precious, you’re always testing my limits.”

I mumbled another lot of nonsense but managed to ask about Belle.

“Noah has your friends,” he said as he strode up the stairs. My head spun hard at the motion, and I couldn’t tell if it was

the wine or the spellcaster. Both were completely intoxicating.

“Why do you hate me?” I mumbled, eyes closing.

Logan didn’t answer, continuing up the stairs, carrying me like I weighed nothing. Which was absolute horseshit. I was not

a small woman. I was tall and had curves and liked to eat.

He showed no sign of strain. Dammit. Why was that hot? Stupid witch wine and hormones.

“Who said I hated you, best friend?” I’d come to learn that he used the best friend nickname when he wanted to de flect. “Let’s get you to bed, Paisley. Before you find yourself in trouble.”

“Trouble’s my midd—”

There was a bang from behind us as Logan reached the landing. He turned and I managed to pry my blurry eyes open. “Fire?”

I breathed. “Is it an elemental?”

Before Logan could even respond, my eyes closed once more, and I lost the battle with consciousness.