Page 7 of These Unhallowed Halls (Equinox Seasons Duet #2)

Four-Tempering Temptation Often Requires Turmoil

Caleb

T hat class was…not normal. When I’d come back here, agreeing to fill Mr. Morrison’s class because of his extremely untimely demise, I’d done so on the condition that I be allowed to simply exist and teach.

I wasn’t looking to perform “tricks” for our students, nor was I interested in putting on a show, leading study groups, or serving as a faculty advisor to anyone.

I had traveled to get away from Rockport, and coming back was no small feat.

Dean Owens had assured me that it would be “an effortless transition.” About that.

“Ugh,” I pinched the bridge of my nose under my glasses, pushing them up and then just taking them off altogether, “I do not have time for… interesting students.”

Still, even in the empty classroom, I could feel both their presence, lingering in the space around me like ghosts bent on disrupting my day. One semester, that was all I was meant to teach in this class, and already there was a complication that should not have been happening.

Ms. Montgomery had caught my eye at the bonfire, and I’d only prevented myself from going over to speak with her because the other one appeared.

Now I’d learned that Ms. Chamberlain was also attending my class, and I was just as “affected” by her.

Worse slightly because, unlike her friend, “Lizzie” was decidedly more aggressive about her interactions.

A trait that brought out the dominant side of me that wished to provide punishment for such a smart mouth.

No. You will not even entertain the flimsiest notion of this. You are their professor. Book closed.

Unfortunately, my mind was not entirely my own this morning.

I’d been so distracted by the relocation, moving into my new flat, unpacking here at the school in the office I’d be using, and trying to avoid having a massive breakdown from simply returning here, that I’d neglected the more animal part of myself.

I hadn’t been to a club or reached out to any submissives in the usual chat to aid in relieving some built-up tension.

My thoughts swirled back to the women in my class, the ones who were nearly twenty years younger than me.

Ms. Montgomery had warm, tan skin, a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

Her long, almost black hair dripped down her back in tumbling waves, and she gave off such an air of innocence and inexperience that I could hardly stand it.

Everything about her had portrayed this image of delicate fragility, one that I couldn’t keep myself from zeroing in on with the intent to break it.

Her friend, on the other hand, had been the total opposite—a woman of fierce attitude and obviously sexuality.

Similar yet different, her deep-colored skin was complemented by a long braid that effortlessly flopped over her shoulder, with wisps of hair framing her face, a style that remained perpetually messy.

Her eyes had been hazel, where Ms. Montgomery’s had been a deep brown.

And both of them had possessed pouty, full lips that would look so very pretty wrapped around my—

“Stop, Caleb.”

The echo of my hand slamming down on the small classroom desk slowly faded in the silent room.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to breathe evenly as I got up and erased the board behind me.

Wind continued to howl outside, and then rain pelted the window as thunder cracked outside.

Rain was so common on Night Grove campus that I almost didn’t notice it, but the flapping of paper against glass got my attention.

A carnival.

I stared at the flyers that quickly soaked up the water cascading down from the deep gray sky.

The fact that a traveling circus of sorts had come to town was rather surprising.

The fact that they were flinging their posters at a magical academy was nearly impossible to imagine.

There was no way the performers could know what we were.

The dean and school board had done everything in their power to keep the truth of this place a secret since its creation centuries ago.

And yet, students would undoubtedly flock to it—any excuse to indulge themselves.

It made me nervous. Interacting with humans too much could be a recipe for disaster.

Immediately, reflexively , I flinched, unable to stop myself.

My pulse began to tick upward, and I reached up, desperately loosening my tie.

This was precisely why I didn’t want to come back here.

Things were different abroad. The states were—

Crack!

I jumped, unable to stop myself. The thunder continued to rumble, low and loud, rocking the room, and I couldn’t escape it. Too fast, I was breathing too fast, and my heart was beating too quickly. Black pushed in on the edges of my vision, and vertigo made the room tilt on its axis.

“No, no, no. Breathe, dammit. Breathe, Caleb.”

But I was seeing it all again. It was too late.

My parents stood before me in a hallway—our old home. We were just talking, a stupid conversation about dinner or what to do that night. I couldn’t remember now. But I could remember what came next. I would always remember what came next.

Twenty years, and the wounds were as fresh as they ever were.

I saw the door launched inward, kicked in by the man now standing on the other side of the threshold.

Curses and threats shouted through the air were the appetizer to the main course of breaking and entering.

An entire crew of them—humans… hunters —shoved into the house, flinging me to the side as I rushed to help my parents, to keep them out of harm’s way.

It had been of no use. I was still only a young man, no older than my students now. Twenty-two and I watched the life I loved, the parents who’d raised me, protected me, and loved me fiercely, as it was torn from me, casting me into shadow and pain.

I couldn’t breathe, observing from too close a distance as it unfolded in front of me all over again.

The doors were slamming around me, and my parents were screaming.

I could feel the iron grip of the oldest man there as he commanded his followers—just men who’d fallen into the leader’s web of malice—to kill my parents, to leave me alive so that I could carry this warning to “all you fucking heathens.”

The men slit their throats, one after the other, blood pouring from the wounds and soaking into the carpet at their feet.

I had screamed then, until I couldn’t, until the authorities poured into my home, dragging my frozen, shell-shocked self out of the house and into the back of a vehicle. They were gone, just like that; my parents had been eliminated from this reality, and all because they were different.

Because we were all different from them .

“Professor Harkert,” I looked up to see a member of the faculty with her bag standing at the door, “I’m supposed to teach in here next period. Did you—”

“Apologies.” I stood up, gathering my things quickly and hurrying toward the door. “I got distracted. Have a good class.”

“No worries at all.” The woman, Professor Kirby, if I remembered correctly, smiled, her easy-going expression so calm in the face of the turbulence that still racked my mind. “You too. Have a good class, I mean.”

She didn’t need to know that I didn’t have any other classes today, so I just smiled and nodded back, getting out of there as quickly as I could without being rude.

I headed to the faculty building just a few minutes away from where I’d taught spellcasting and proceeded directly to my office.

Boxes were still stacked in the corners, the bookshelves bare as I hadn’t had a moment to fully unpack everything yet.

Slumping down in the seat behind the large oak desk that sat at the back of the room, I sighed, dropping my head into my hands.

This was not how I wanted to start the school year.

I couldn’t even make it a single day before my PTSD symptoms reared their ugly head.

And yes, I’d been struggling for some time, but being back here, where everything happened, it just made it so much worse.

I went into my bag, pulling out the small set of keys I always had with me, and used the smallest one to unlock the top drawer in the desk.

Inside was my stash of necessary items, and I took out the bottle of Prozac and whiskey, using one to take the other.

I’d forgotten to take the medication this morning, maybe that was why everything felt so much harder today.

It could also be that I hadn’t been in Rockport for about two decades and had been met with a problematic student encounter not five minutes out of the gate.

Images of the women in my class resurfaced, and I groaned, thoroughly annoyed with myself. Where the human society at large was rather prudish and full of assholes that would kill you as soon as look at you, witches and other creatures tended to be a bit more on the “eh, fuck it” wavelength.

Though they’re both rather abysmal when it comes to the treatment of mental health.

Enjoying the burn of the alcohol down my throat, I put things away as I considered what the hell I wanted to do this evening. This would likely be one of the last times I didn’t have papers and assignments to grade, and stressed was a mild way of putting how I felt.

I was also still pretty damn wound-up from seeing Ms. Chamberlain and Montgomery.

Pulling up the school email I had for announcements, I noticed the distinct lack of any news and signed out as quickly as I’d logged in.

I couldn’t just go back to my apartment and sit there.

Last night had taken everything in me not to devolve into a mess about seeing…

Temperance at the bonfire. I’d wanted to do things to the image of seeing her there, bathed in the glorious orange glow of the fire, that were beyond inappropriate.

And after class today, it was that much worse. “You are such a piece of shit.”

But unfortunately, I was a piece of shit who also needed to get this out. I couldn’t let myself bottle it all up as much as I wanted to. I’d combust and take too many people along with me, something I remembered from the years immediately following my parents’ deaths.

My phone buzzed, and I picked up to see a message from one of the few “social” contacts I had.

Elaina : Hey, you swinging by the club now that you’re in town? We’d love to see you. ;)

As far as timing went, Elaina was right on point. Going to The Knotted Broomstick to relieve a bit of tension sounded as good a plan as any. And gods knew that I hadn’t been tending to my kink needs very much over the past few months.

Looking down at my screen with the faintest hint of a smile, I shot back a text, feeling a bit more hopeful now—even if I knew without a doubt that a certain couple was going to be in my thoughts while I found someone to play with.

Better that, though, than actually acting on it.

Me: Yeah, I’ll swing by this evening. It’s been a while, and I have some stress to burn off.

Elaina : Perfect. I’ll be looking forward to it. See ya then!

I didn’t bother to send another text back. Elaina and I weren’t like that. We may have fucked a handful of times, but it was all just for the scenes. No strings, no messy feelings, and both of us liked keeping it that way.

So it was settled. I’d get what I needed off my chest, allow myself to let go for even just an hour or two, and I’d be back to myself in no time.

As long as I could keep my distance from those witches in my class.