Page 26 of Cursed By the Love Witch

I am just as affected as him. It’s impossible—but these feelings are strong.

Did Mistress Saege sense something between us, or am I just paranoid? I can’t be sure. The burning intensity in Bael’s gaze is hard to miss. If you are looking for it, the signs are evident in the attention he pays me.

A strong hand tugs on my sleeve, and I look up at Bael. He nods towards a desolate corridor off to the side.

“This way. I know a shortcut.”

I follow his tall frame into the quiet hall. The golden afternoon sun streams in from the window off to the side. We stand facing a brick wall, and Bael reaches out. His palm glows with purple fire as he presses a brick. There is a soft groan and then a symphony of clicks as the bricks rumble open. Dust falls between them as they peel apart, revealing a hidden passageway.

My laugh is one of surprise. Bael extends his hand towards the darkness.

“After you.”

I duck into the dim corridor—the only light comes from the staircase above and a lone torch on the wall. The floor is uneven, and my heel gets trapped under my cape. I slide—losing my footing—my books toppling to the floor with a slam. I brace myself for impact until I feel warm hands grabbing my waist.

Bael holds me upright and slowly walks me back against the near wall. The opening closes with a rumble, encasing us in silent darkness. My breathing turns sharper as I stare at him. The dim light casts his face in jagged shadows. It makes him look dangerous. A fresh wave of desire rolls through me, turning me hot and wet between my thighs.

Goddess, this is not good. My hands curl into the front of his shirt and pull him closer. His hands begin to roam over my body. Violet's eyes search mine, and I nod, encouraging him to touch me more. Our laborious breaths are the only sound in the corridor.

He presses against me. The muscles of his chest and back are taut. My hands slip under his shirt and pull him even deeper into me. That seeking hardness presses against my stomach, and I moan. He growls, his head falling to my shoulder.

“Darcee,” he snarls. I whimper as his nose skims up my neck. “I was meant to do this properly. To take things slow.”

His hands drift higher up my ribs. Thumbs graze the underside of my breasts through my bra. After a few more minutes of touching, I could climax.

“It’s hard when you are so tempting,” he continues. “Everything is so hard.”

“Bael,” I whisper. I need any sort of relief I can find.

“You are a madness—my madness. One I’m more than willing to succumb to.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

His lips skim the skin of my throat before he pulls back. Our hands rove over each other, but it never goes further. Our movements are thoughtful, as if committing each other to memory.

This is wrong—he’s my teacher and under the effects of a love potion—but I want him all the same. If he said the word, I’d happily strip out of my clothes and let him have his way with me. Something that would make this whole situation worse.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask. The bell rings again overhead, and we both need the wake-up call. With one last deep inhale at my neck, Bael pulls back. My chest rises and falls as I watch him stoop down and collect my books. Dusting them off, he hands them out to me. My hands shake as I take them.

He nods at the stone stairs above us.

“You go up first. I’ll follow in a few minutes.”

I nod and shakily take the stairs. The world around me is a blur. Worry tickles icy claws down my spine. How will I survive our first tutoring session without taking things too far?

When it comes to Bael, I am just as much at his mercy as he is at the mercy of my love potion.

12

DARCEE

Necromancy class had always been a dull, frustrating affair.

The concepts did not agree with me, and the professor leading the class held unbridled disdain for me. Now, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Before, I sometimes found it difficult to pay attention because of the material being taught. Now, I'm having difficulty focusing as I watch Bael confidently glide around the room, instructing us to cast a summoning circle without being tapped beyond the veil.

My mind is filled with the memory of Bael’s strong hands tracing along my body. How warm and hard he had been pressing against me—our shared breath—the delicious secrecy of being with him. Our relationship is wrong—unethical for many reasons—yet my desire for him was rapidly increasing by the moment. That love potion I gave him must have been my most potent brew yet, even I feel under its thrall.

As he highlights the difference between black and pink salt, I watch his slender muscles flex under his shirt as he writes. A hot thrill goes through me, and I wonder again if this attraction to him was always there on my end. We wouldn’t be the firstopposites to attract—I have brought together dozens of people who seem at odds with one another only to end up being a perfect match.

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