Page 14 of Stormbringer (Tracthesian Academy #1)

M arc braced his feet against the floor and let the wind flow around him. Jarred wasn’t as lucky, his hold on Wayla’s arm slipping, and he tumbled down. Hellion looked dazed but was still standing, leaning heavily against the wall.

As soon as Wayla got down the stairs, the wind vanished. Marc reached down to adjust himself. That woman. He would get her to take combat lessons from him, no matter what. That burst had been emotional and out of control.

He kept his eyes on her as long as he could, making sure she was steady on her feet and not depleted from the burst. As if she felt his eyes on her, she flipped a finger over her shoulder, and Marc chuckled to himself. She was fine for now.

He offered Jarred a hand, chuckling. “Dog house, you say?”

“Females,” Jarred groaned, and he heaved himself up. “There’s no telling what sets them off.”

“Yes, that was a complete mystery,” Marc said, not bothering to hold back his sarcasm.

“What did you do?” Hellion gasped as he finally started to get his breath back.

Marc wanted to laugh at their battered forms. Both of them had been taken by surprise. They had all gotten too complacent in their home. Only his natural disposition to shield had kept him upright. He needed to do better.

Slowly, the hallway started to fill in as Grant, Hazard, Sinister, and Zahir moseyed downstairs. Zahir righted a few of the picture frames and lifted the decorative bottle on one of the tables. To Marc’s surprise, it was whole.

He walked over to inspect it closely. Not even a crack on the glass. Had she really been able to target them so well that it had saved the item, or was this just some dumb luck?

“She said Marc was hot,” Jarred blabbed.

Sinister cleared his throat. “Somehow, I doubt that is what caused this kind of exit.”

“He said, and I quote, ‘It’s a free for all’,” Marc said and pointed at Jarred.

Grant rubbed his eyes. “And the house is still standing?”

Ha! He got it.

“You trying to sabotage us all?” Hellion growled at Jarred.

“What is this bet I keep hearing about?” Jarred shot back.

“All right, children. Let’s take a deep breath,” Grant said. “Someone order pizza. Do we still have beer?”

“I’ll text Yash to get beer on the way back,” Zahir said.

“I’ll order pizza,” Sinister volunteered.

“No pineapple!” Hazard shouted. Sinister just flipped him off and headed to the kitchen.

I t was later, after lots of pizza and several beers, that Marc found himself walking onto campus. He didn’t have a destination in mind, but he was feeling way too stuffed and not tipsy enough to settle down for the night.

Things were quieting down, but there were still others moving around. A chilly wind threw some leaves his way, and belatedly, he realized maybe he should have taken a jacket.

He couldn’t get Wayla’s words out of his head. There was no shortage of women vying for his attention. He was not ugly and, even more importantly, he was a Powerhouse. He could have crawled out of an ogre’s ass, and there would still be attention thrown his way.

That wasn’t the feeling he got from Wayla. She had seemed lost in thought when she had stared at him. And those thoughts weren’t about what he could do for her. At least not in the unpleasant sense.

There was something about her that captivated a man’s attention. Tracthesian Academy was filled with beautiful and stunning creatures of all sorts, and she fit in with them. Maybe it was the fact that she was new, but there were new students every year. They didn’t cause half the fuss she did.

While she had been ogling him, he had made his own perusal. Her eyes looked simply green from afar, but up close, they were actually more grey than green. And he liked her hair. In the right light, like when she was tossing it over her shoulder, it looked deep blue, not black.

And she was delicate. Not frail, just, delicate, like precious porcelain. He would have pegged her weak before that little tantrum, but even if that had been an uncontrolled burst of power, it took a strong body to hold that much in at once.

He needed to talk to her and get her enrolled in his classes. Well, worst case scenario, any combat classes, but he’d prefer if she were under his supervision.

The campus bus rumbled past him and stopped at the next stop.

Marc watched as several people got out in a group, and then his heart began pounding when a familiar figure emerged.

He unintentionally took a step forward just as another figure emerged behind her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Death. Maiming. Who…

The couple exited together, their heads tilted towards each other, and everything screamed ease and comfort between the two. He would pull the angel boy’s wings out and tear them off.

The boy’s—he refused to call him a man—eyes snapped up to meet Marc’s. He whispered something to Wayla, who clutched his arm, and the boy dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“… this, baby cake.”

“Salis,” Wayla whined as the boy pulled away.

Baby cake! Seriously? She was with someone who called her a baby cake? And what had she been doing kissing Jarred and Hellion then? Vaguely, Marc remembered seeing him with her in the Grand Hall. Had he been there with Hellion too?

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Okay, so his tone wasn’t exactly as reasonable as he had wanted. And his wording could have used some work, based on the look it garnered him. “Who’s the angel-boy and what are you doing with him?”

Not better, Marc , he chided himself. Maybe he should cut Hellion and Jarred some slack.

“None of your business,” Wayla replied. There wasn’t even a trace of her previous interest on her face.

“It is when you are out this late and can’t even shield properly,” he snarled. Damn, okay, he definitely needed to cut them some slack because his mouth was spewing utter nonsense without his consent.

“And you are such an expert on shields, huh?”

“In fact, I am,” he replied smugly.

“He really is, sugar spun,” the soon-to-be-maimed angel-boy piped in. Marc hadn’t even realized that he stayed close enough to hear.

“Shut up, pudding,” Wayla huffed and threw a glare at the boy. He had the nerve to grin. Marc reminded himself sternly that punching him would cause paperwork. Not worth it if he wasn’t going for the full maiming.

“Who are you anyway?” He directed the question at the boy. Paperwork would be faster to fill out with all the information.

“Salis Glowfeather,” the boy replied easily. If he thought that her presence would keep him safe… Well damn, the little fuck was completely right. He couldn’t really punch his lights out in front of Wayla, and hunting him down later seemed a bit petty.

Reset time.

“Wayla, can I walk you back to your dorm?”

“If you could, that’d be great,” the angel boy piped up again. “I gotta run and I live on the other end.” He dashed in, whispered something to Wayla, kissed her hair again, and was off before either of them could get anything else out.

“Salis, you traitor,” Wayla shouted after his quickly disappearing figure.