Page 9 of Spellcaster (Weatherstone College #1)
Hands traced along my skin, the touch firm as he dragged his palms across the hard peaks of my nipples. A moan spilled from
my lips, and I gasped as the heat of his tongue flicked over the tight bud of my right nipple. His hold was heavy, pressing
me into the bed, and I loved his weight against mine. I writhed against him, needing more. “Please...” I moaned. As he
lifted his head, the green of his eyes—
Gah! I jerked awake, heart racing as I pressed my hands to my clammy cheeks—my body was on fire despite the cool dorm room.
I’d had this dream for weeks now, thoroughly seduced by a faceless male who claimed me as if he owned me, and there’d never
been a single defining feature... until tonight.
I knew those arctic green eyes. That fucking spellcaster wasn’t content with simply ruining my waking hours, he’d now decided
to invade my sleep. I squinted at my watch in the dim light to find it was only 2:00 a.m.
Too early to get up for classes, but I was way too worked up to sleep, so I decided to grab a quick shower and wash off the
sweat. It wouldn’t hurt to cool down my overheated body either.
When I pulled myself out of bed, the moonlight through the window was dull.
Crossing to grab my toiletries and a new set of pajamas, I brushed my hand across my crystals, needing their comfort.
I’d settled on bringing my favorite mix of amethyst, quartz, obsidian, and moonstone.
I’d also packed a necklace that I’d inherited from Granny Helena.
I’d never met this particular gran, who’d died giving birth to Mom, but we’d both been crystal lovers.
Tonight, my precious gems were bathing in the moon’s glow, recharging their energies. Ugh, Precious . And now I was thinking about that spellcaster and the green of his eyes in my dream. Was that a new nickname, or another
memory just out of reach? Why did that one meeting with him imply a sense of knowing Logan my entire life when he was nothing
more than a stranger? A dangerous one at that.
When I stepped into the hall, it was empty, lit only by a few sconces high on the filigreed walls. I didn’t encounter another
student on my way, and it was only when I entered the well-lit bathroom that it crossed my mind I’d just broken my promise
to Dad by wandering around the halls at two in the morning. For a second I was torn, before deciding that I was already there,
so I might as well rinse off.
The bright lights blinded me until my eyes adjusted, and then I grabbed two towels, wedging them under my arm as I headed
toward the back where the showers were. The bathroom tiles were sparkling white, cleaned and sanitized every hour—or sooner
if a mess was detected by the spells lingering in the walls. That niggling worry about danger faded as I enjoyed the silence,
only to reemerge in a burst when I heard a small cry.
I paused, body tense as I waited.
“Stop!”
Another weak plea. Broken. Someone was in trouble in this room, and as tingles raced along my spine—magic or adrenaline, it
was hard to tell—I decided to check out the situation. If someone needed help and I just ran and left them, I’d never forgive
myself.
Shucking off my flip-flops, my bare feet padded against the cool floor as I crept silently.
My hands were full, but I wasn’t going to risk dropping my shit and alerting them to my presence.
As I got closer to the showers, I heard another voice.
“You think you’re so fucking special,” a witch rasped.
“Your father got mine fired and destroyed my family. So, now . . . now, I’m going to destroy you. ”
There was another whimper. “I’m sorry. It had nothing to do with me.”
A crack echoed loudly, and I ran. The caress of magic touched my skin, and I tasted electric energy on my tongue. I recognized
the power; it was an air elemental.
Rounding the corner, I skidded to a halt to find a redheaded witch on the floor of a stall, half soaked in the water of the
shower, and completely naked. Another witch stood over her, slapping air at the crouching witch, her cracks leaving red welts.
As I finally dropped my items, I charged forward. I hated bullies, especially since my second year of primary where I’d been
targeted by a small group of assholes-in-the-making. For a solid year they’d made my life miserable, until I’d learned to
fight back.
This scene triggered me back to my childhood, and before I even knew it, I was ready to jump in.
The air elemental was so caught up in being the Wicked Witch of Weatherstone, she didn’t even hear me coming until I punched
her right in the side of the head. Yep, cheap shot, but desperate times when I had no active magic.
Her raged-filled gasp was loud as she stumbled and fell in the water too, leaving her neat blond chignon disheveled. Fired
up, I came at her again, and to my surprise she pushed to her feet and took off, slipping on the wet floors, followed by the
distant echoing of the bathroom door slamming shut.
Expecting she’d be back, I quickly turned to the redheaded witch, who was staggering to her feet, one arm wrapped across her breasts. “Are you okay?” I asked, snagging one of her towels hanging on the hook and handing it to her.
She took it, sucking in ragged breaths, pupils dilated. “Holy shit,” she breathed. “Holy, holy fucking shit.” Her breaths
grew even raspier, and I wondered if she was going into shock.
“You’re safe now,” I said in my best calming tone. “I’m sure she won’t be back tonight, but if I were you, I’d leave my showers
to a time when this room has witnesses.”
She stared at me, and then at the towel in her hands, and there was a visible calming as she pulled herself together. “That
bitch ambushed me,” she bit out, wrapping the white length around herself. Her huge brown eyes, a similar shade to her skin,
lifted to clash with mine. “And you saved me. Thank you. Shit, I should have said that right from the start.”
“No worries.” My favorite phrase was in use again. “I’m just glad I was here.”
She shot me a rueful glance. “Would you believe I’m a water elemental? I should have been able to take her out on my own,
even untrained, but she was relentless.”
The welts from the attack were visible on her flawless skin, and as she moved closer, I realized how pretty she was. Perfect
brown skin, long, dark lashes that skimmed her cheeks, and full rosy lips to match the very red of her hair. A color that
looked magically enhanced, the darker roots just visible along her part. “I’m Belle,” she said, flashing me a genuine smile.
“I think I saw you in the office this morning.”
“Right, yes, I’m Paisley.”
She’d been the curious redhead watching my father lose his mind.
Thankfully she didn’t ask me what our drama was about; she had enough of her own.
“Annabeth must have been waiting for her opportunity. Her father used to work for mine in the High Council of Magic. He got fired two months ago for taking coven bribes. Nothing to do with my dad at all.” She tilted her head toward me.
“Why did you punch her and not use magic?”
“My magic is not what you’d call particularly reliable.”
Or even accessible.
No doubt the next question burning a hole in her brain was How did you make it into Weatherstone with unreliable magic? But she was too polite to say anything.
“I’ll wait for you tomorrow for our first classes, if you’d like,” she said, in another rapid subject change. She jumped around
topics a lot, but I didn’t mind. “It’d be nice to have a friend to walk with.”
“I’d love that,” I said. “I’m in room 267.”
Not only would it be stupid to turn down a friendly face, since I doubted Annabeth was the only evil witch at Weatherstone,
but Belle had mentioned her father was an elder on the High Council.
“Perfect, I’ll meet you there at eight.” She went to leave, before pausing, “Do you need me to wait in case she comes back
to hurt you?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ve been battling much stronger elementals than that witch most of my life.”
If Belle was curious about that statement, she didn’t show it. She just waved awkwardly, clutching her towel to keep it from
slipping. “Okay, see you in a few hours.” She grabbed her pile of clothes, and when she was gone I huffed out a breath. Weatherstone
drama was intense, and it was kicking in before classes even started.
At least this time it wasn’t a spellcaster with intriguing eyes trying to do me in. I doubted a sucker punch to the side of
the head would deter him if there was an attack.
Entering one of the stalls, I made sure the door was shut and locked, and hung my towels on the hooks.
My change of pajamas went onto a small shelf on the back of the door.
There was a chill in my bones that had me cranking the hot water and standing under it until I finally felt clean but not necessarily warm.
My chill was deeper than skin. This ancient school, filled with magics I could only dream of experiencing, had already seeped
into my essence. Seeped and claimed.
No matter what Dad said tomorrow, I would convince him I had to stay.