Page 6 of These Unhallowed Halls (Equinox Seasons Duet #2)

I clamped down around nothing, imagining her fingers inside me, and with whatever power was magnifying her dream, it was enough to have us both groaning low as the distant sensation of release washed over us.

“Fuck, that was—”

Temps shifted in the bed, and I practically leaped from right there all the way across the room to my own. Something had just happened there, something to do with the surge in energy I’d felt, and for as off as that had been, I was ready to do whatever had just happened with Temps all over again.

Soon. Soon she’s going to finally break from all the bullshit that’s been keeping us apart. So fucking soon .

T he energy of the equinox was pumping even higher as I slid into a seat next to Temps in Spellcasting.

As far as classrooms went, this one was an academic's vision of heaven, and I could feel my stepsister buzzing with excitement as she settled into her seat. We were in a large, auditorium-like room with rows of seats that resembled a stadium. The floor and desks built into the structure were a deep, chocolatey brown, and a massive blackboard—chalk and all—stretched across the wall behind the professor’s desk.

He hadn’t arrived yet, this Professor Harkert, and as far as I was concerned, we were annoyingly early.

Class was set to begin in like five whole minutes.

I could’ve snagged a coffee on the way here.

Shucking off my leather jacket, I admired the modifications I’d made to the school uniform—we were adults for fuck sake and didn’t need a dress code—and leaned back in my seat so I could kick my Docs up on the ledge in front of us.

“Can you believe this is real?” Temps’ voice carried that lilting tone of wonder, and as much as I wanted to tease her about being such a nerd, it seemed mean to burst her bubble. “This place is gorgeous. Did you see the walkways?! Stone arches and floors. Gargoyles!”

Shaking my head, I knocked her with my elbow, thinking she still looked damn good in a knee-length plaid skirt and blazer.

“Think any will come alive and turn out to be hella cute?”

“That is exceedingly unlikely.”

A voice richer and deeper than the chocolate wood around me cut through the room, and everyone went silent, even me.

When I looked down to the front, following Temps’ gaze, I was hit square in the face with one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing—and with Temps right next to me, that was saying something.

Our professor was hot .

His voice held the hint of a New England accent, and for the first time in a long while, I watched utterly speechless as he set down his large satchel and pulled out the chair from beneath the long mahogany desk.

My first thought was, of course, how fucking good it would be to be thrown across that desk by said hunky professor, shortly followed by getting Temps to join.

“Oh no.”

My girl’s whisper had me shaking out of my head, turning toward her, my brows knitting together when I saw the look of abject dread on her face.

“What’s up with you?”

Temps looked over, her cheeks stained pink beneath the warm tan of her skin. “Forget about it. Don’t, umm, just forget I said anything.”

Flustered, nervous, mortified, my step-sis was balls deep in all of it, and I didn’t know why. “Oh, ho, ho. What’s this all about?”

“Lizzie,” Temps looked away, facing the professor again as the sound of chalk scratching across the board filled the room, “just stop. We need to be quiet.”

I opened my mouth to rebut, but anything I was about to say died when Professor Harkert broke the quiet again.

“That you do. So why don’t you both try it out, so we can begin class?”

If Temps could turn an even brighter shade of red, she did. Unable to push for more details right now, I narrowed my stare and turned back toward Mr. Stuffy.

Hot but stuffy.

Still, as soon as our eyes met again, the challenge burning deep in my chest in a constant, silent demand that I give him something to think about, the tension radiating through my shoulders relaxed a bit.

The deep navy of his eyes, framed by smart eyeglasses with thin wire rims, was nearly impossible to look away from, and I swallowed hard as he drilled that gaze into me and came around to lean on his desk, his expression stoic yet smug.

He was wearing a tweed blazer, complete with elbow patches, and a vest beneath it over a white button-down shirt.

His pants were dark brown, and I just knew he was the type of guy to call them slacks.

Just then, his eyes flicked to Temps with the same intensity, and the entire classroom felt like it dropped away into nothing, becoming just the three of us.

“Good morning. I’m Professor Harkert. I will be taking over this semester as your new instructor for basic spellcasting.

It’s nice to see so many new faces joining Night Grove.

” Harkert’s attention swiveled back and forth between Temps and me, and I almost vocally mused about how the rest of the class was going to feel left out.

“My specialty lies in alchemy, but I have accepted this position to—”

“If your specialty is in alchemy, why aren’t you teaching that?” A voice sounded from the right side of the room, and all attention focused there on a student with straw-blonde hair in the customary uniform, pressed with so much starch that I was surprised it didn’t crack.

“I suppose it’s better to just get this over with.

” Harkert looked down with a sigh, pushing off the desk and returning to his seat.

“I have just recently returned to Rockport after doing extensive traveling, where I lectured on modern alchemy practices. Since my return was rather abrupt, I was not able to get into the alchemy teaching post until next semester, and this class required a professor.”

“Because the other one died, right?”

Blondie beat me to the question, and I shot her a look even though she wasn’t paying attention to anything but Harkert. I hated her immediately, every vibe detector in my brain going off with warning bells that she was a bitch in sheep’s clothing.

“If you must know, Ms…” Harkert looked down at a pad of paper he had open on his desk. “...Mitchell, Mr. Morrison was actually found dead in what is presumed to be a grisly murder. That the answer you’re looking for?”

Oh, I like him .

“Apologies, Professor.” Blondie clammed up, and after that, class progressed like a ride on the bullet train.

Before I knew it, Harkert was wrapping up what to expect in his class this semester, and there hadn’t been a single moment that he hadn’t entranced both Temps and me.

It was nice to know she had good taste when it came to guys, too.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow. Make sure that you have your books for…”

Harkert’s words died off, and the entire room turned toward the window to the left as jaunty music played loud enough for us to hear all the way in here. My nerves tensed at the sound, but several of my fellow students ran over to the glass, peering out into the misty, gray morning.

We were on the side of campus by the entry gate and parking lot, and just down the long driveway was a little truck bouncing along the road.

I’d have taken it for a fucking ice cream truck if it wasn’t for the very obvious circus and carnival aesthetic going on.

Wind howled outside the room, and in a whoosh of faded yellows and red, several sheets of paper plastered themselves across the glass, as if the truck had let them go in the breeze, hoping they’d land somewhere people would see them.

“Oh hell yes, let’s go check it out!” a taller male student cried out, and the class emptied in a hurry aside from me, Temps, and our professor.

I stood up, gesturing at the window with my head as I slung my bag over my shoulder.

Temps rolled her eyes but followed me down, and we walked up to the window to read the flyers that were still stuck to the panes.

Come one, come all to the Illusion de Lumière Carnival!

Death-defying stunts, fire-breathing, soaring through the sky on the flying trapeze, and more!

Don't miss out on this once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Spooks and sweets for all! Corn maze! Fun house!

Games! Every night from now until November 1st.

“A carnival? Already? It’s still September.” Temps turned away from the window, shaking her head as we crossed the room toward the exit.

“It’s Rockport by way of Salem, dude. Spooky Season begins when the first leaf turns orange.”

She laughed, but I definitely didn’t miss the way her eyes tracked over to Harkert as she passed, or the way his own followed her right back.

The energy wafting around was something else, making me feel like I’d smoked too many clove and wormwood cigarettes.

I hurried along after her, though, ready to snatch up one of those flyers the moment we got outside.

As I passed Harkert, I flashed him a grin, certainly laying it on a little thick. “See ya, teach.”

He leveled me with a stare, the muscles of his jaw working as he clenched it. “Ms. Chamberlain.”

“Oh, come on. Lighten up.” I reached the door, pausing to grip the jam and turn up the heat on my stare, ever so grateful that I’d cut this skirt to hit me at the mid-thigh. “It’s Lizzie.”

He didn’t say anything, and Temps called for me down the hallway. Still, as I took off after her, I could feel the burn of Harkert’s eyes on my skin.

This is going to be fun.