Page 13 of Stormbringer (Tracthesian Academy #1)

W ave wiped sweat from her brow and shook her hands.

“You need to think of it like a living or flexible thing that you wrap around yourself,” Jarred repeated. They had been at this for half an hour already, and Wave still couldn’t do what he wanted.

She hadn’t exactly told him that she was already sustaining three layers of different kinds of shields.

Her innermost shield contained her siren, the second her stormbringer.

The constant suppression of power strained her at times, but she had learned to live with it since they also offered protection.

Ever since moving to Tracthesian Academy, she had developed a habit of pulling up a third layer as soon as she woke up. That was a more generalized barrier, but what Jarred wanted her to do was a specific shield against power surges.

Wave had always learned shielding as a way to hide who and what she was; protection was a secondary benefit.

The way Jarred described the shield and its function felt unfamiliar to Wave.

She could easily see the benefits and usefulness of such a shield, but no matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t able to get the hang of it.

“Again,” Jarred said.

Wave pulled in a deep breath and, to her utter horror, Jarred moved to her back and wrapped her in his arms. Her back slotted easily against his chest, and he leaned down to talk into her ear.

“You are trying too hard.” He moved his hand to rest on her lower stomach. “Feel it gather here and then let it flow over you.”

Wave tried. Well, she tried not to melt into a puddle as the heat from his hand soaked into her. Oh, heaven and hell, he was so warm. No man had the right to be this hot. Literally. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning.

“Wayla,” Jarred admonished her. “Focus.”

“I am,” she muttered.

Jarred huffed. “Right.” He tapped a finger against her stomach. “Focus here.”

“I. Am.” This time, Wave gritted it out, and Jarred froze. His laughter started low in his stomach. Wave felt it long before it burst out of his mouth.

“Oh gods, Wayla. You do wonders for my ego.”

“I don’t think your ego needs any inflating.”

Jarred pulled her tighter against him, and she felt something definitely getting inflated right behind her back. She wanted to rub against the growing hardness, but refrained. Barely. There may have been a small shimmy involved.

“Wayla, I need you to stop doing that. I have only so much self-control.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You need to learn how to shield properly.”

“I could just stay back here,” Wave offered. Jarred shook his head.

“No. The location of the trip exposes you more to the Hell Moon’s effects, but being anywhere else doesn’t negate them fully. I’m starting to have a vested interest in your well-being.” His hand slid a bit lower on her stomach.

“Fine,” she murmured. “Let me try again.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Jarred said, the smile evident in his voice. His hand didn’t move away, and Wave groaned before trying again.

“She’s not going to learn like that. You’re not giving her enough incentive to block,” a voice interrupted her next attempt. Slowly, she turned her head and noticed Marc leaning against the wall next to a door. She had no idea how long he’d been there.

“You have a better idea?” Jarred asked him.

“You could have the demon boys attacking her. It’s going to be a Hell Moon after all.”

“I had planned to ask Hellion to help once she managed the simple form.”

“Simple,” Wave gasped. There was nothing simple about what he wanted her to do. Jarred let go of her and moved to Marc’s side.

“Yes, simple,” Marc said with a slight smile. Wave eyed him up and down. He had looked muscular and broad in the Grand Hall, but here, standing so close to her, he made her feel tiny-tiny-tiny.

His features were more rough-hewn; no one would have ever called him a pretty boy. He had a large nose that had been broken at some point, leaving it a bit crooked. There was a faint scar going over his left brow and up to his hairline. She wondered what happened to cause such marks?

It managed to distract Wave from his purple and blue eyes for a second, but once she really looked into them, they captivated her. The purple ring denoting him as a mage was wide and beautiful and it blended like broken glass with the blue of his eyes.

“Earth to Ms. Spinwell,” Jarred said, waving his hand.

“Why does he have to be so hot, too?” Wave complained, tearing her eyes away from Marc’s captivating looks to Jarred’s more classically handsome face.

“I think you have me mixed up with someone else,” Marc snorted. Jarred looked intensely at Wave and shook his head.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“What?” Now, Marc turned to glare at Jarred.

“Look at her, man.”

“Nothing to see here.” Wave threw her hands into the air and turned her back to the two men.

“But Hellion—”

“Is in the dog house from what I hear,” Jarred cut Marc off. Wave sensed him moving closer. “Besides, Ms. Spinwell hasn’t indicated any exclusivity or clear preference so far. It’s a free-for-all.”

Wave spun to face them again and glared.

Mention of Hellion reminded her of him holding her, and that almost made her rub at her wrists.

The little nervous tick resurfacing threatened her control over all the memories she was determined to forget and made her even more furious.

“Is that what this is? Hellion wanted to win a bet, and you want to stake some stupid claim?”

“Wayla, no—”

“You know what, whatever.” The anger that rushed into her veins was so potent that Wave had trouble containing her power; she could not crack or let her aura slip. Besides, a flash flood in the basement would be bad. “You can find some new toy to fight over. I’m done.”

Ignoring the calls and hurried steps behind her, Wave marched up the steps. She made it to the hallway and turned toward the front door. Hellion stood in the way, holding up a placating hand. Blocking her in.

“Wayla—”

“Move,” she snarled. She was getting out of this house, now.

“Wayla, please. Let me explain,” Hellion tried again, still not moving. Jarred was closing in from behind, and she was starting to feel boxed in.

Caught.

She would not be captured ever again.

Memories she had ignored for years surged up and, if that wasn’t enough, her siren was firmly awake. Ready to kill, or fuck. All the male power swirling around her was nothing like she had dealt with before. Not like this. She would rather face down angry Lucifer than deal with this.

They were handsome devils, the lot of them. Yes, she had been through a bit of a dry spell before moving here, so their power called to both sides of her, strong and alluring. But fuck, no, she wasn’t going to do anything about it.

She was here to learn all she could and look for clues about what happened to her father.

Well, she knew what, but who was behind it all was a mystery.

One that was swept under a rug, if she even remotely approached the subject with her family.

Finding out the truth didn’t include entertaining the exclusive boys’ club.

Angie had tried to warn her. She would have to find her and apologize for not taking her words to heart.

Wave stepped forward, and Hellion still didn’t move out of the way.

Jarred’s hand landed on her arm, and without thinking, she exploded.

In the last second, she managed to pull back enough to only let the wind roar out of her at a semi-reasonable speed.

No tornadoes in the house. Those were hard to explain away, and collateral damage was high.

Her arm jerked as Jarred flew backward, almost pulling her with him. Hellion slammed against the wall and cleared the path for her to reach the door. She threw it open and jogged down the steps, flipping them off over her shoulder.

She was so done with these games.