Page 49 of Two Who Live On

As the sun faded, our appetites returned. Milo craved something other than the cold fast food sitting on the nightstand.

I slid my fingers delicately up his stomach, carefully unbuttoning his shirt.

Milo rolled over, nuzzling his face into my neck and kissing me. Quickly, he lifted my shirt over my head and then positioned me beneath him.

Given his primal arousal, I expected him to take me this instant, but he slowed his eager thoughts, stirring with more passionate desires.

Slowly, he undressed himself, and I followed suit, taking off my pants. Milo ran his fingers along my bare hips;the lightest touch of telekinesis coursed along my skin, creating the sensation of a dozen hands caressing me, holding me, positioning me.

Once he’d grabbed the lube and prepared himself, he lay on top of me, wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me tightly into his embrace.

Our eyes remained locked as he entered me; he took slow, deliberate thrusts the entire time—edging himself to the peak of satisfaction and then pausing as my erection throbbed against his stomach.

Milo kissed me each time he took a steady stroke, pacing himself as he made love to me.

ChapterEighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Following Milo’s advice, I returned to work, training my students as the Spring Showcase encroached. I did my best to tune Milo out when his mind synced to mine. It was challenging and disappointing and exhausting all in one breath. For weeks he’d chased leads, followed thin trails, and nothing panned out. Victims continued falling to demon activity, and despite enchanters from every guild in the city out in full force searching, nothing stopped the murders.

I could’ve stopped them simply by not acting rashly. Something I needed to master.

Guilds were in chaos, clamoring to solve a case nobody could. Enchanters tracked and slaughtered demons responsible for the killings, but then new demons arrived, continuing the cycle. Some in the media claimed they were new, while others noted the same demons returned, accusing enchanters of failing to properly banishthem. Milo continued urging for guild collaboration, believing it’d help solve the case. But every guild kept their doors firmly shut, hopeful of gaining the notoriety that came with saving the city single-handedly.

Enchanter Evergreen’s mind continued repeating that if he’d only found the source of the demon resurrecting those that’d fallen, creating an army of subjects, then the city wouldn’t be on the verge of collapse.

We weren’t. Life was abundant, and many ignored the deaths in favor of reminding themselves they were small in numbers, and things would be back to normal soon. Not Milo. His thoughts constantly looped through potential futures and bigger threats than I could see, lost in visions of horror. When his mind clung to his guilt for his failures, I pushed away the link holding us together. Though his thoughts never actively stirred to blame my interference, I continued dwelling on how it had. How I ruined everything.

With my thoughts mostly my own, I escorted my homeroom coven to the auditorium for our headmaster’s announcement. I stood along the back wall with a few other first-year instructors, ushering students to file inside and take a seat.

“It’s wonderful to see everyone here this morning,” Headmaster Dower said, about to begin a very long speech before announcing the ranking results for the Spring Showcase.

As she spoke, I read through emails—some from her or others about the upcoming showcase—tuning out the mix of surface thoughts and strong emotions many of the 600 students crammed into the auditorium gave off.Excitement, dread, embarrassment, and anticipation radiated in equal measure as the headmaster spoke.

The curtains behind her opened, and a screen covering the stage lit up. I huffed. Students scoured the list of 160 names, searching for their name and ranking—worried they might not find it listed,terrified they’d be handed a paper copy listing their ranking and explaining how and where they could improve during the rest of their first year. Public shaming on rankings was alive and well in this new system. Disgusting. Effective. Cruel.

Either I hadn’t read an email thoroughly enough, or someone forgot to add me to the list of instructors handing out rejection forms to students who didn’t make it into the showcase. Who was I to complain? Breaking dreams was the worst part of this career. Plus, it helped me keep a psychic pulse on my homeroom coven because those who didn’t make the cut would need empathy.

One by one, relief hit my students. Some, like Kenzo, Katherine, Yaritza, and Layla, maintained confidence the entire time, not concerned about finding their name or surprised by their rankings. Others, such as Gael, Jamius, and Carter, released a bated breath, stunned and excited to find themselves listed. A few were annoyed they’d be expected to participate while also hiding their joy for making the cut: Jennifer, Melanie, and Tara. Two were ecstatic to participate but embarrassed at their low ranking: Gael, confidently boasting with his rooster, and Caleb.

I smiled momentarily before Peterson thought in my direction, pissed so many of his students hadn’t made it into the showcase, utterly convinced I’d rigged the event since my entire homeroom coven placed. I shrugged away his envious rage and then realized that was why I didn’t have any forms to hand out.

None of my students had fallen below the required 160 ranking in order to qualify. It was rather shocking, impressive as all hell, and a bit of arrogant pride swelled in my chest. I might’ve barely contributed to their success, but this was the first time in all my years of teaching that every single first-year student from my homeroom coven had qualified for the Spring Showcase. They were an amazing group of kids.

“We all made it into the showcase.”

“Duh. Get off me, porcupine.”

“Not the best. Worst, in fact, but room to improve.”

“I hope no one gets hurt.”

“There’s gonna be so much paperwork.”

“That’s the industry, darling.”

“It’ll be nice finally showing off my branches.So long as my training doesn’t falter.”

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