Page 26 of The Entanglement of Rival Wizards (Magic and Romance #1)

The club is already packed, but Orok’s teammates drag us to one of the VIP areas where we’re given champagne that glows a faint shimmering pink.

“Fae Plane champagne!” declares a cheerleader for the Manticores.

I pass my untouched flute to Orok. With the heaving lights and thudding music and swelling noise of such a tightly packed crowd, my limbs itch to move.

“Gonna dance,” I shout into his ear.

He stops me with his elbow. He’s in simple jeans and a corded brown sweater, which is going to be soaked in no time thanks to the heat of so many bodies in here, but he’s never been one for club clothes.

Not like the skinny jeans and silver crop-top tank I’m wearing; I even swapped my glasses for contacts, though I hate the way they feel, but they make dancing easier.

Plus, it lets the eyeliner I swiped on pop more, and I roughed up my hair in that lazily messy way that’ll still work once I’m doused in sweat later.

We’re going all in on blowing off steam, baby.

“You good?” Orok asks over the music.

“Not gonna drink. Just dance.” I know better than to indulge in two vices at once, especially in my current emotional state.

The fact that I’m not that far gone is reassuring.

I’m getting over the whole kissing Elethior thing already, look at me go. By tomorrow, I’ll be able to apologize for making things weird, and we’ll carry on with our work.

“Good,” Orok says, “but that’s not what I meant.”

I give him an excessively bright grin and pop both my thumbs.

He starts to say more when Ivo appears next to him. “Shots! Shots!”

Orok smiles good-naturedly before powering back both flutes of champagne, raising the empty cups like trophies, burping loudly, and bellowing, “MANTICORES, BITCHES!”

The entire VIP area howls . “Feel the sting! Feel the sting!”

I slip away with a laugh, ducking past the VIP ropes and weaving through the regular tables. Most of the people are students, some still decked out in Lesiara U gear, but my focus is on the dance floor.

Until a body blocks my path.

Well, two bodies.

I stumble back. The guys look familiar, but—

Ah. They’re from the Conjuration Department. They were part of some pranks last year, but I was always more focused on their ringleader.

Who told me he wasn’t, actually, involved in any of the pranks.

My shoulders go back with renewed interest. In the unsteady light, it’s hard to pick up distinguishing features, but both guys are taller than I am.

One’s human and wearing a Manticores T-shirt, holding three shots that fizzle and spark, and the other’s half siren with bright blue hair and a sheen of teal to his skin.

Blue Hair smiles. He takes my arm, presumably to pull me closer to talk, but nope .

I yank away without hesitating.

His smile turns slick. “Haven’t seen you poking around our lab this semester,” he says, leaning in to be heard, and I eye him warily. “Does that mean Conjuration wins the feud?”

I honestly haven’t thought about the interdepartmental feud in weeks, since the grant declared it ended and the focus of my own personal rivalry has been all up in my space.

I also hadn’t pieced together that since Elethior claimed he wasn’t heading up the Conjuration Department’s pranks, that meant someone else was .

I roll my eyes, and I can’t believe I’m the one who’s exasperated by all this. “The rivalry’s on hold, didn’t you get the memo? Though I guess your overlord didn’t pass on the directive.”

Blue Hair laughs. And touches my arm. Again.

I flinch away. Again. “What are you guys, freshmen?”

It has the intended effect.

Human scowls. Blue Hair’s nose curls. “Seniors,” he says.

“Ah. Great. I’ve been engaging in a prank war with baby undergrads.”

“ Seniors, ” Blue Hair enunciates.

“ Babies, ” I shout back. And I wave my hands, trying to bat them aside. “Move, children, I have better things to do with my night.”

But Blue Hair plucks a shot from Human’s hand and holds it out to me. “Fine. Let’s drink to the truce, then.”

Are these the masterminds who’ve been plotting against me all these months? Though, it tracks—they fucked up the Evocation Department’s spell components and generally enacted shit with no concern for the actual ramifications.

My eyes go to the shot, then back up to Blue Hair, who’s smiling sweetly.

“If you think I’m going to drink anything you hand me, then you need to apologize to the university at your graduation and refuse your diploma.”

Blue Hair’s humor vanishes. Human glares at me, but my focus is on Blue Hair and the way his head slants forward, his pupils widening.

“Drink the shot, Sebastian Walsh,” he tells me, and at the base of my neck, I feel the slightest fizzle of magic. It’s immediately countered by the wards I always throw up around myself.

Fury lances through me.

Okay, playtime’s over.

I glower. “Are you trying to enchant me into—”

A hand reaches out and seizes Blue Hair’s shoulder. He swings around to—

Oh, fuck me.

Heat burns across my face even though Elethior isn’t looking at me.

He snatches the shot from Blue Hair and sniffs it. The top’s still sparking with tiny bursts of gold glitter, and one hits his nose, making him recoil.

Elethior holds the shot up to Blue Hair. “I interrupted. Here you are. Bottoms up.”

Blue Hair hesitates, his eyes flashing to me. “Nah, it’s for—”

Elethior’s smile is flat. “Take the shot, Aqeanoe.”

Even in the flashing rainbow colors, Aqeanoe—I prefer Blue Hair—pales. “I—”

“Unless there’s some reason you wouldn’t want to?” Elethior pushes. “Unless you attempted to poison a fellow student?”

“We’re not on school grounds, man,” says Human.

“Wow.” I slow clap. “Really making a good case for the Conjuration Department’s superiority. Why would our location matter if there was nothing wrong with the shot?”

Human’s mouth slams shut and Aqeanoe scowls at him. “Dumbass,” he snaps. Then, to me, “You shut up. This isn’t—”

Elethior’s grip on his shoulder must pinch tighter. Aqeanoe staggers and winces. “Don’t finish that thought. Take the shot or leave.”

Aqeanoe grimaces at Elethior. Holding eye contact, he accepts the shot and downs it.

I chirp in surprise, but before I can get out a word, Aqeanoe’s teal skin is covered in purple and gold stripes. Lesiara U’s colors.

That’s… that’s it?

That’s not even a good prank.

Aqeanoe tosses the empty shot glass aside. “There. Fuck, dude, you ruined it. Gods, you’ve always been a killjoy.”

“This stupid rivalry is over .” Elethior’s volume doesn’t seem to be due to the music; his brows are low, his eyes irate. “Lay off. Oh, and you’re done here—Prismatic doesn’t tolerate spiking drinks.”

Elethior waves behind Aqeanoe to a security guard. I hadn’t noticed him, but he folds out of the crowd with a snarl, orc tusks thick and shoulders pushing several feet wide.

Aqeanoe and Human protest, but the security guard corrals them away.

A disbelieving scoff bursts out of me and I scrub a hand over the back of my neck. “Holy shit. Is that how you see me? Gods, tell me I’m at least a little more respectable. I mean, I have subtlety. I have standards . I have—”

Elethior shifts in front of me, taking Aqeanoe’s place, too close, too towering.

It’s significantly less uncomfortable from him.

I make the obscenely stupid mistake of meeting his eyes.

I can still taste him. Mint and coffee and the external layer of his cologne teasing the edges of my senses. I can still feel all of it, everywhere, the kiss remembered in parts of my body that weren’t complicit in it. The inside of my elbows. My eyelids.

“Are you all right?” he asks, bending in, his loose hair curtaining us on one side. His eyes run over my face like he’s searching for injury or upset.

My tongue touches my lip. Feels one of the places where his piercings pressed to my skin.

He tracks the motion. Lingers on it.

My hand is still behind my neck and I tug it down to fist at my side. “Fine. Yeah. Thanks. But I—” Pride zaps up my spine. “I didn’t need your help. How are you here?”

One side of his mouth cocks. “Your friend told me you’d be here.”

“Who?”

His looks toward the VIP area.

Realization hits me in a drawn-out groan.

Orok, who I sent to get my stuff from the lab because I was a big coward.

Orok, who must’ve seen Elethior there, and they talked about me .

Orok, who used to be my closest friend, but is now dead to me, RIP to our relationship. We had a good run.

“Great.” I suck my teeth. “Well, have a nice night, I’ll be—”

I try to step around Elethior.

He matches me, blocking my path. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” I wave at my ears. “Can’t hear you in here anyway. So—”

I step to the other side.

He matches me again.

“Why?” I stop fighting to get past him, breathing hard . “We could show up tomorrow and get back to work. That’s all we have to do. Work . We don’t have to talk about it. Ever .”

“But what if I want to talk about it?” He’s breathing hard, too. Chest heaving with the beat of the music, drums plummeting lower as the same lyric is repeated in a skittering stop-and-start, Move with me, move—move with me, move—move with—

I don’t respond. Can’t. My jaw deadbolts.

“What if I want to talk about it,” he repeats, “because I can’t stop thinking about it?”

A flash of orange light cuts across my vision, followed by a sharp flare of blue.

I shake my head. Shake it again, and hold up a hand to push against his chest, get some space.

Gods, he’s wearing a black mesh short-sleeve button-up. It lets me feel the skin beneath, the rough abrasion of his chest hair, the heat of his body. And I can see his tattoos through the fabric, swirling across his shoulders, down his pecs.

The light shifts, a wash of magenta, and kill me now, his nipples are hard.

My head won’t stop shaking, negating everything. “We don’t like each other.”

He doesn’t respond for a beat. I manage to tear my eyes away from his chest to look up at him, and he’s studying me like I’m one of his research books.