Page 11 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter Nine

B riony

“Fox!” I cry out as he presses his way inside me. He’s big – a little too big.

He stops and reminds me to breathe, waiting until I relax and can accommodate him some more. Then he pushes further inside, making me gasp, before stopping a second time, and littering kisses up and down my neck.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he growls, “let me inside, just a little more. There’s a good girl. Breathe.”

I do, allowing him to invade me even further.

I don’t know what the hell is happening to me.

How can I be with one man this morning and a different one in the evening? Why don’t I feel any shame about it? I only know how right this feels, how much I want it, how much that new sensation in my veins shimmers as Fox Tudor groans above me, his face strained with concentration and wonderment.

“You feel so good,” he stutters, finally seated all the way inside me.

He links his cold hands with mine and kisses my mouth.

“Okay, Miss Storm?” He’s so big and I’m stretched so wide, I don’t have the ability to speak. I nod instead. “You ready for your professor to teach you one hell of a lesson?”

I whimper, lifting my hips, and he grinds into me.

His eyes glow so intensely, it’s like his irises are aflame and I’m unable to look away from them, transfixed. I wonder if this is how vampires do it. Seduce their victim, lower them in, mesmerize them with their other-worldly eyes until the victim’s begging to be taken like this.

“You’re so damn hot,” he growls, “such a tantalizing tease of a little thing. I should have done this to you a long time ago.” His fangs shine in the dim light of his room, sharp and menacing.

“You should have,” I moan.

He’s strong and powerful – his strength almost inhuman – and he uses his whole body to fuck me.

My leg is pinned between our bodies and I can’t wriggle away.

I’m forced to lie there and accept the brutality of his body.

His eyes spark with something more manic.

He licks his tongue up and down one fang, then the other.

His eyes leave mine and fixate on my neck.

I tip my head back, elongating my throat, inviting him in for the bite.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But something in my blood wants to feel the cold enamel of his bite. Something wants his cock buried inside my cunt and his teeth in my throat.

I feel a little unhinged myself as I cry out, the sensations he’s driving from my body as wild as his eyes.

“I … want … to …” he growls.

“Yes,” I plead, “please!”

“My … mate,” he pants.

“Pl-please,” I say again.

He pulls his right hand from mine and for a moment I think he’ll grip my neck and bite me.

Instead, he reaches between our bodies and presses a cold thumb to my clit.

I cry out and then his magic is caressing me there and the feelings are so good I lose all reasonable thought.

I buck and writhe. I don’t hold back. I succumb to the feelings, telling him over and over again how good he makes me feel.

“Good girl,” he growls, “come for me now.”

I come, squeezing in waves around his cock, and then I hook my hand around his neck and drag him down, kissing him with all the passion I feel.

He groans into my mouth. His thrusts become erratic and then with a grunt, he comes too, all the tension in his face releasing for just a flicker of a moment, and reminding me so much of the Fox Tudor he used to be, the one I knew back in Slate Quarter.

The one that dazzled me even back then, even though I was nothing but a kid.

And I know he’s right. I am his mate and he is mine.

Afterwards we lie in his bed, his right arm wrapped around me, my head resting on his chest, his left hand linked with mine

“You have a heartbeat,” I mumble sleepily, my body buzzing with what just happened.

“Not always. Sometimes it just does. Muscle memory, I guess.” He kisses the top of my head. “It always starts when you’re close by.”

I giggle. “Professor, that is the cheesiest–”

“It’s true. I guess the stupid thing can’t help it.”

He lifts our clasped hands and kisses my palm and the ring he wears on his pinkie finger twinkles in the light and catches my attention.

I lift his hand closer to my eyes and examine the ring, spinning it around his finger. It’s made from a crude metal – cheap compared to the jewelry the shadow weavers wear – although there’s a twine pattern carved into the material.

I’m sure they pay the professor a salary here at the academy that far surpasses anything anyone is making back in Slate.

I’ve seen the pretty books on his shelves as well as the limited-edition bottle of whisky and his well-cut suit.

If he wanted, the professor could buy a more expensive ring. This one obviously has meaning.

“This is pretty,” I say.

“You think so?”

“Yes.” I trace my fingertip over the pattern.

Fox shifts on the bed, and slides the ring off his finger, taking my right hand in his and sliding the ring onto my ring finger. It’s far too big. In fact, it’s too big for my middle finger and my thumb as well.

“I can probably find a spell to adjust it to fit.”

I shake my head, taking the ring from him and sliding it back onto his finger.

“You keep it. It’s obviously special to you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I can tell.”

He looks into my eyes, then down to the ring and nods. “It belonged to my dad. To his before him.”

“Then you definitely should not be giving it away, Fox Tudor.”

He spins it around his finger, gaze still locked on the dull metal. “He gave it to me the day I left for the academy.” He inhales and then blows the air away. “He had such high hopes for me – such fucking high expectations. He was … proud of me. More than he should have been.”

“I bet he’s still proud – a son teaching at the academy.”

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been back.”

“You haven’t? Well, it is a shithole.”

“I miss him,” he says quietly.

“Did he pass away?” He shakes his head. “Then why haven’t you been back to see him?”

“How could I, Briony? How could I let him see what I’ve become? He’d be disgusted, repulsed.”

“Err, Fox,” I say, “you are anything but repulsive.” I snuggle up closer to his cold body. “Anything but.”

“You’re just a little freak, Miss Storm, with a weird taste in men.” He shakes his head again. “I mean, I still don’t understand your attraction to the wolf.”

I giggle and kiss the point on his chest directly above his heart. “Was your dad a good man, Fox? A good dad?”

“The best,” he says, his voice cracking in his throat.

“Then he won’t care.”

“I’m a monster, Briony.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’ll love you no matter what. You should go back and see him. He probably misses you too.”

He exhales.

“I’m meant to be the older and wiser one here,” he mutters.

“I’d kill for a dad who took the slightest bit of notice in me, Fox. Don’t waste that.”

“Your dad’s a damn fool.”

“No, just a drunk. And given everything he went through – everything he lost – I’m not sure I blame him.”

“It’s weird,” Fox says, “when I was in Slate, I couldn’t wait to get out. I hated everything about it. Now, I’d give anything to go back. For things to be how they were.”

“Because you’ve forgotten just how shit it is.”

“Not all of it. People looked out for one another back in Slate. They cared about each other.”

“Hmmm,” I say, because I don’t remember anyone looking out for me. In fact, most seemed to turn a blind eye to the underfed kid with the bruises.

“It’s far more cutthroat among the shadow weavers. You don’t know who is your friend and who might stab you in the back any minute now. You can’t trust anyone.”

“I can trust you though, can’t I?” I laugh.

“Yes,” he says, far more seriously than I was expecting. I was only joking after all. “You can trust me, Briony. I will never betray you.”

He glides his hand up and down my back. His touch is still cold. But tucked up in his cozy room, I don’t mind it. In fact, I like the sting of it. I like the way it makes my breath catch. Perhaps Beaufort isn’t the only kinky one.

“You wanted to talk,” he says.

“Yes,” I say, lifting my head, “but there’s something I need to show you first.”

His eyes flash. “Lumomancy. Have you been able to do it again?”

I shake my head. “No, unfortunately, this is going to involve a trip into the forest.”

He groans. “Can it wait until the morning? I’m rather comfortable here.

” I shake my head, and this time he sighs.

“Ahh well, I am starving.” I tip my head back again, offering up my throat.

“Miss Storm,” he warns, and I scurry away before I’m pinned to the bed for round two – even if that is a thoroughly pleasing prospect.

We dress slowly, content to watch each other, both big smiles of satisfaction swamping our faces. Then he wraps himself in his cloak, I find my discarded sweater and coat in the classroom and we set off.

The snow has stopped falling but a deep blanket covers the ground, one that reaches to my knees.

I grimace as my legs plummet through it and the icy cold penetrates the fabric.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, the snow up to his knees as well.

“Don’t you feel that at all? It’s freezing and my boots aren’t waterproof, nor my–”

His magic is gliding towards me before I’ve even finished speaking and I don’t know what the hell he does, but my boots are no longer leaking and my feet dry and toasty.

“Now that is handy,” I say.

“Come on,” he says, gaze swinging around, even though it’s the middle of the night and the campus is sleeping. He creates a weak ball of shadowy light and we use it to find our way in the pitch darkness. Although I get the distinct impression, the torch is for me more than him.

Despite my newly mended boots, it still takes me time to trudge through the heavy snow, although Fox seems to find it no trouble at all.

At the entrance to the trees, Fox stops.

“Here we are,” he says, “what did you want to show me?”

“We need to go further.”

“Is this what you were doing the night of–” I nod and take him deeper into the forest.

After a few minutes, he stops suddenly, his eyes ablaze like they were when we were in bed together. His head snaps to the left.

“Stay here!” he commands, his voice booming and even if I wanted to move my legs, I don’t think they would.

He dashes off through the trees so quickly, his form becomes a blur and I lose him in the darkness, his ball of light still hovering above my head.

A frown is only just forming on my face when the air around me whips about and Fox is back by my side.

“How did you do …”

I trail off. There’s a drop of blood in the corner of his mouth, meandering down his chin.

I frown properly.

“My kind … vampires,” he corrects himself, “have unnatural abilities of strength, speed, sound, smell, and sight.”

Which … explains a lot.

“You have blood on your mouth.” He wipes it away with his thumb.

“Deer,” he explains. “I haven’t eaten since before the trial.”

I feel a little snarky that he’d rather feed from a deer than me, but then I realize I’m acting a lot like Odessa and give myself a stern talking to. Just because I have four very hot men interested in me should not be taken for granted. Things can change. I know that well enough from Stanley.

Our next few minutes are spent in silence and then my usual curiosity gets the better of me.

“What’s it like to feed?” He glances at me.

Even in the pale light from the floating globe, I can see he has a little more color in his ivory cheeks than he did.

“I mean, until I came to the academy, food was a necessity like air. If I didn’t have it, life was miserable.

When I did, life was slightly better. But then coming here, I’ve been introduced to things like chocolate and coffee.

” And really flaming hot sex. Honestly the academy isn’t as bad as everyone makes out.

Okay, there are the frequent threats to my life, but I think the ups may be worth the downs for sure.

“Why didn’t you have food back in Slate?”

I throw him a look. He knows why there wasn’t any food. My dad’s a known drunk and by now we’ve definitely established that my stepmom was a mega bitch.

“As usual, Professor, you are dodging my question.”

“Like you said, it’s a necessity. I have to feed in order to stay alive.”

“Hmm, noted,” I say, with a tease. “One way to kill a vampire, you can starve them to death.”

“I doubt it,” he says flatly, “you’d have a very hard time attempting to restrain a ravenous vampire.”

“So it doesn’t taste good?”

He grimaces. “No, it’s pretty vile. Deer’s blood tastes like piss.”

“And … human blood?” I ask quietly.

“Depends on the human,” he says, his voice dropping an octave.

“Do different humans taste differently then?”

“Yes, of course they do.”

“So you have fed from humans in the past?”

I grin at him and he frowns back, knowing he walked right into that trap.

“When I was first turned and I didn’t have the ability to control myself.”

“Did you ever,” I swallow, “kill anyone?”

He doesn’t answer that question for a long time. “I don’t know. I never hung about long enough to find out.” He halts and I stop too. “That was a long time ago, though, Briony. I no longer do that.”

“But you’d like to?” I practically purr.

“We’re not having this conversation again. Now, what did you bring me into the forest in the middle of the night in a foot of snow to show me?”

The grin slides from my face. I’m not sure how Fox is going to take this revelation. But there’s only one way to find out.

I cup my hands around my mouth and call Blaze’s name.

The layer of snow on the forest floor is not as deep as it was out on the moorland, but it still coats the branches above our heads.

It muffles my call and my voice doesn’t carry as far as usual.

And yet, after just a few minutes, that strange sensation in my blood buzzes and then we hear the crack of wings.

“What is that?” Fox says, glowing eyes swinging around as he steps closer to me and rests his hand protectively on my shoulder.

“That’s Blaze.”

“And who the hell is Blaze?”

“Blaze is a dragon,” I answer as my not-so-little friend comes swooping towards us through the trees.