Page 47 of Every Shade of Shadow

Witchy or not, it’s late. Any moment I expect the murderer to burst from the shadows, but the hall remains empty.

Today was basically a write-off. I attended classes, sat in the cafeteria, but it all seemed like pretense for this.

It was hard enough to find the physical location of this place, many a subtle question asked to get here. Most of the faculty live in the complete opposite wing to the student quarters, but Darkwood’s chambers are all by themselves deep within the west wing. It even feels darker down here.

I haven’t been able to stop running over dinner last night either. The Professor showed actual vulnerability. It’s not like I was expecting him to pour his heart out, but it’s nice to know he’s not completely guarded, that I might be able to subtly chip away at the enigma that is Damien Darkwood.

Following the dinner, I spent time with Gran’s grimoire and its always shimmering script. It’s filled with handwritten notes that run the gamut from elegant and flowing to rushed and jagged. Otherwise, it’s a bit like a porn mag you’d find in a back alley—all the good stuff torn out already.

The book under my mattress? That was a little more enlightening, though there’s still so much to learn, to pore through. I can read to my heart’s content, but it may as well be mud.

And that’s where I’m hoping the Professor will come in—to provide the much-needed illumination.

As instructed, I’m wearing Gran’s old peacoat, and only her peacoat, my body bare below.

My whole being thrills at the prospect of his touch again. Yet doubts linger at the edges of my mind. This is improper. I should not crave him the way I do. He’s old enough to be my father, for Christ’s sake.

And then there’s the whole pet thing. I’m not some meek, submissive girl who enjoys being spoken to like a toddler and thrashed accordingly.

Really? I consider, thinking back to the other night, because that? That felt kind of good. Cathartic, almost.

Which brings something of a horrifying realization, because maybe I don’t know myself as well as I think I do.

The clock at the end of the hall, one of the few, chimes midnight. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the shadows and knock softly at his door.

It opens immediately, like he’s been waiting this entire time. He stands before me clad in a black silk robe, eyes bright with hunger.

"You made it." His voice is a low purr as he ushers me inside. I enter, and the door clicks shut behind us, goosebumps rising uniform over my skin.

"Did you doubt that I would?" I ask, tilting my head to meet his gaze but unable to keep the slight waver from my voice.

A faint smile tugs at his lips. "Not for a moment. But first,” he says, that crooked smile in full, seductive flight, “take off your coat.”

A flush rises to my cheeks, though the shame is dissipating each time we meet.

I undo the belt and let the coat fall apart, the Professor’s eyes going immediately to the soft valley between my breasts.

I lift the coat from my shoulders and let it fall away completely, the bite of cool in the room bringing fresh gooseflesh to the surface of my skin.

I’m freshly shaved, at least remembering to pack a razor when I was packing-slash-throwing whatever the fuck I could into that duffle. I thought he might like that. Given the look in his eyes, I’d say I was right.

"Exquisite," he murmurs, cupping my breast and teasing the nipple to a stiff peak with the back of his thumb. He stirs around it in gentle circles, the tip of his tongue peeking through the seam of his lips.

My eyelids fall shut and I tip my head back, a gasp escaping me. "Please," I whisper. "I need you."

Because that is what I want. Magic be damned. I want him to be my first, to take me and make me his own. And it’s a contradiction, strange, but I cannot help the way I feel.

"And you shall have me." His robe falls open, revealing his arousal. It stands thick and proud, the bulbous head of his cock a deep, plum purple. A thrill courses through me as I recall his stiff inches ravaging my mouth. I had no idea how much I would enjoy that, right up to the moment when I felt him hit the back of my throat.

"Now come," he says.

Darkwood's gaze burns into mine as he circles around me, shadows flickering at his feet from candles set on shelves around the room.

"There are many trials of sexual magic, my pet, each deeper and more powerful than the last. At the apex dwells ultimate power and pleasure, if you dare ascend that high. After all, it’s not without its dangers," he smiles, and I’m reminded of his story of the scarred woman.

My body has become my heart—they beat as one. I'm barely keeping my balance, anticipation and nerves a tangled web inside me. "W-what does the magic entail?"

Fuck, I can’t even speak properly. I’ve turned into an imbecile.

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