Page 39 of Wicked Chains (Serpentine Academy #2)

Thirty-Six

Rose

I wake up on Monday with my entire body feeling like I've been run over by a train. My muscles complain as I roll over, memories of running through the woods flooding back with every ache. Ash's words are seared into my memory.

' The next time you run, if I catch you, I fuck you.'

I feel a flood of wetness between my legs, soaking my panties, my body not caring that we’re supposed to hate this man.

"Don't look at me like that," I say to Hank, pulling my pillow over my face. "I know it was stupid."

But was it? The memory of being pinned against that tree, Ash's body pressed against mine, the way his eyes darkened, it sends a million butterflies to my stomach that have no business being there.

I'm supposed to hate him. He owns my magic, controls my life, humiliated me in front of everyone. And yet, I can’t stop thinking about how he towered over me, how his handsome face was a mere breath from mine, how his arms were strong enough to lift me like I weighed nothing. And how he protected me from Helena.

"Nope. Not going there." I throw the pillow aside and force myself to sit up, wincing at the pain in my thighs. I really need to work out more.

Hank blinks at me, clearly unconvinced.

I look at my phone and groan. First period starts soon. The thought of sitting through a monotonous lecture on the proper wand movements for transmutation spells is not an attractive one.

"Fuck it," I announce to Hank. “Mental health day,” I declare to him.

“Ribbit.”

I drag myself to the bathroom, and shower quickly, letting the hot water ease some of the soreness from my muscles. The heat feels amazing, and I let my hand drift down, lower and lower, between my legs, touching myself as thoughts of Ash flash through my mind.

I picture what could have happened, if I’d let him catch me. What he might have done to me, face down on the ground in the forest. I think about his strong hands pinning me down, of him taking what he wanted.

I come so quickly I barely have time to realize it.

By the time I'm dressed for the day, I've made up my mind. I'm taking a day off from classes, from Ash, from Helena, from all of it. Just one day to breathe, to get my shit together.

"Coming with?" I ask Hank, who's still sitting on the windowsill.

He croaks once, which I take as a yes, and hops into my hand. I place him gently in my sweater pocket, his usual ride, where he settles in comfortably. We've developed a routine, Hank and I. He seems to like being carried around, watching the world from the safety of my pocket.

The hallways are empty, everyone trapped in classes. I move through them, and it's peaceful, in a way, having the corridors to myself. No stares from other students, just silence, just me.

I wander without purpose, letting my feet take me where they will.

Up staircases, down hallways I've never explored before.

Serpentine Academy is massive, and I feel like I could roam it for days and still not have seen it all.

I pass classrooms where I can hear the murmur of lectures, students' voices answering questions.

Normal, college stuff, if you ignore the fact that they're discussing how to properly bind a malevolent entity or the best way to extract essence from a poison flower and use it for spells without killing yourself.

Eventually, I find myself outside the library. I like the library, it’s usually quiet and there are never any other students here. It’s the last place I’d expect to find people like Thorne and Harry, so it feels a little like a safe, peaceful place to spend some time.

I push the door open and slip inside. The library is cavernous, with vaulted ceilings and rows upon rows of bookshelves stretching up two stories. Sunlight comes through tall, narrow windows, casting long rectangles of light across the worn wooden floors. It’s empty of people.

Or so I think until I spot a familiar figure hunched over a pile of ancient-looking books in a secluded corner.

Soren, of all people. His dark head is bent over a massive book, one finger tracing lines of text.

He looks very studious. Not a word I'd typically associate with the incubus who once told me he considered the library ‘a fantastic space for an orgy, with all those tables. ’I make my way toward him, curiosity overcoming my desire for solitude.

Hank shifts in my pocket as if he's also intrigued by this unexpected development.

"Well, well," I say when I reach his table. "Look who's hitting the books instead of hitting on students. The apocalypse must be nigh."

Soren looks up, his dark eyes taking a moment to focus on me, like he's been somewhere far away. Then that familiar smirk spreads across his face, transforming him from serious scholar back to the seductive demon I know.

"Little witch," he drawls. "Skipping class? How deliciously deviant of you."

I gesture to the books spread before him. "What's all this? Erotica? Need a few pointers?“

He laughs. "If only. No, this is decidedly less fun. And if you think I need ‘pointers’ then you’re in dire need of spending a little more time with me, Rose." He closes the book he was reading with a gentle thud. "No, not reading for enjoyment today. But infinitely more valuable in the long run."

"Cryptic," I say. "Very on-brand for you, Soren."

Soren pushes a stack of books aside, creating space at his table. "Join me? Unless you'd prefer a more private venue for our encounter today." His tone is pure suggestion, but there's something off about it. Like his heart isn't quite in the innuendo.

I settle into the chair across from him, running my fingers over the surface of the wooden table.

It's carved with initials from generations of students marking their presence.

I run my finger over a set that looks particularly old, wondering who J.L.

was and if they're still alive. Good chance, if they belonged to the Crescent Moon Coven, courtesy of me and my bloodline.

"So," I say. "Seriously. What are you researching that's important enough to keep you from corrupting the students of Serpentine Academy?"

Soren hesitates, which is new. Soren Malric doesn't hesitate. He seduces, he teases, he provokes. But hesitation implies uncertainty, and uncertainty isn't in his repertoire.

"Ancient magics," he says finally. “Specifically blood contracts.”

"Find anything useful?" I ask, trying not to get my hopes up.

"Nothing you'd like to hear." He taps one long finger against the table. "Blood contracts are notoriously difficult to break without severe consequences for the bound party."

"Great."

Soren studies me with his coal-black eyes. "Why aren't you in class, Rose?"

I shrug. "Mental health day. Figured I deserved one after nearly getting caught by Helena in the woods yesterday."

His eyebrow arches. "The woods? Do tell."

"It's not what you think. I was just walking. Ash was there. Then Helena showed up, and Ash told me to run back to campus." I leave out the part where Ash pinned me to a tree and promised to fuck me if he caught me running again. Some things are better kept to myself.

"Ash was just coincidentally in the woods at the same time as you?" Soren's tone makes it clear he doesn't believe that for a second.

"He was following me through the mark." I tap my arm where the blood mark sits beneath my sleeve. "Or so he claims."

"Our overseer seems quite fixated on you, have you noticed?"

"Yeah, well, he owns my magic. I'm a valuable asset, or whatever."

"Is that all you think it is?" Soren's voice is carefully neutral.

I look away, not wanting to go down this road. "Can we not talk about Ash right now? I just want to escape all that for a few hours today.”

Soren inclines his head in acknowledgment. "Fair enough. What would you prefer to discuss? The weather? The declining standards of education in supernatural institutions? Or perhaps—" his voice drops, "—how exquisite you looked coming apart on my cock the other night?"

"Actually," I say, ignoring the heat that creeps up my neck at the memory, "Since you’re in a sharing mood. I do have a question for you, Soren. I want to know why you're still here." I never did get much of an answer from him about that, and it occurs to me that I’d really like to know.

"Here? In the library?"

"No. At Serpentine." I lean forward, genuinely curious. "You stayed when Victoria was in charge. You stayed when Helena took over. Now you're here under Ash and the Blood Moon Coven. Why? What's keeping you here through all these changes?"

The flirtatious mask slips for just a moment, replaced by something more guarded. "That's quite the heavy question, little witch."

"Humor me," I say. "I'm genuinely curious. You don't strike me as the loyal type who sticks around through regime changes out of duty."

"You wound me," he says, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. But his eyes remain serious. "What makes you think I have some deep, dark reason? Perhaps I simply enjoy corrupting young minds. The benefits package is excellent, and the hunting grounds fertile."

I roll my eyes. "Cut the bullshit, Soren. I've seen you with your guard down, remember? There's more to you than the horny demon professor act."

He's silent for so long I think he might not answer. His fingers drum on the table, and his gaze is distant.

"Protection," he says.

"From what?"

“Demon hunters, dark magic practitioners, humans who've discovered what we are and want to destroy us. Or worse, bind us to their will."

"Like what the covens did to me," I say softly.

"Similar, but cruder. Before I came to Serpentine, I spent decades on the run. Never staying in one place for more than a few months. Never letting down my guard. Always looking over my shoulder for the next hunter."

I try to imagine Soren—confident, seductive Soren—running scared, and the image doesn't compute. "But you're so powerful," I say. "I've seen what you can do."

"Power doesn't matter when they come at you ten to one, with binding spells specifically designed to trap your kind. The academy's walls don't just keep students in, Rose. They keep hunters out."

Understanding dawns. "The wards."

Soren nods. "Some of the strongest magical protections there are. No one gets in without permission. As long as I'm employed here, I'm safe."

"So that's why you've stayed through all the changes of power. Because leaving would mean..."

"Becoming prey again." He says it simply, matter-of-factly. "I've been hunted. I've been caught. I've been... used. I don't intend to experience any of that again."

The honesty in his voice catches me off guard. This isn't the Soren I know, the seductive professor who flirts shamelessly and touches me like he can play my body like a violin. This is someone else. Someone with scars and fears and a past he's running from.

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask.

"Because you asked." He shrugs."And because, despite my better judgment, I find myself inclined to be honest with you."

"The last time I was caught," Soren continues, his voice taking on a faraway quality, "it was by a group of hunters working for a private collector. A human with enough money and magical knowledge to be a danger. He wanted an incubus for his 'collection' of supernatural beings."

My stomach turns. "That's disgusting."

"Quite." Soren's smile is thin. "I spent three years in a cage warded specifically to contain my kind. Three years being studied, being tested, being fed upon in my own way."

"How did you escape?"

"I didn't." His eyes meet mine. "I was purchased. By the academy, and by Helena when she was headmistress prior to Victoria. She needed someone to teach Shielding, and didn't mind if that someone happened to be a demon.”

I sit back, stunned. Helena. "She bought you?"

"She did. And then she offered me a choice. I could work for her at Serpentine or leave and take my chances outside the wards." Soren's laugh is hollow. "Not much of a choice, really."

"So you became a professor."

"I became a professor," he confirms. "And discovered, to my surprise, that I rather enjoyed it. The teaching, not just the access to a veritable feast of erotic dreams."

I think about all the times I've seen Soren flirt outrageously with anything that moves. How I assumed it was just his nature as an incubus, his inability to be serious or form real connections.

"So all the seduction, the constant flirting?"

"People are less likely to see you as a threat if they think they know exactly what you want. If they believe you're simple, driven only by lust, they underestimate you. They don't look deeper."

"But you're not simple at all," I say softly.

"Neither are you, little witch." His eyes hold mine. "I stayed for more than just my own safety, after the coup."

“I know.” And it’s true, I do know that. I believe him.

Soren reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. "Now you know one of my more closely guarded secrets."

"Why tell me?"

"Because I think you might understand what it's like to do whatever it takes to survive."

He's right. Growing up the way I did, always on the move, never sure where the next meal would come from or if we'd have a roof over our heads, it teaches you to adapt, to become whatever you need to be to get through another day.

"I get it," I say simply.

Soren studies me for a long moment. "Well, this has become unexpectedly serious. We should probably take our clothes off, lighten the mood." He waggles his eyebrows.

I laugh. "Thanks for the chat. And for, you know, telling me the truth."

"Enjoy your day off, little witch. Try not to get into too much trouble without me."

"No promises," I say, but I'm smiling as I walk away, Hank shifting contentedly in my pocket.