Page 13 of Forbidden Magic
“That’s an omen if I’ve ever seen one,” Lydia grumbles.
The teacher opens the window out front and sticks her head out, looking down at the grounds. Smoker lines appear around her tight mouth, and she casts me a nasty glance like I’m somehow responsible for this.
Blood drips along the glass, the crimson trickle forming a B-shaped blotch. My nails rake against the desk, and I press my necklace deep into my other palm. The voices around me blur into an unintelligible void until…
“Julia? Julia Winslow,” the teacher calls.
I turn around.
Cole is waving around a piece of parchment with my name on it, and dread ties up my tongue.Of course.
He skips over to me and shoos Lydia away with one dark glare. His feline grace makes my heart thump.
Dad’s voice resonates in my head.Never make a deal with a Fae; you’ll end up on your knees begging for your life.
My roommate lunges out of her chair and away from him, slithering to the back. I shoot her an accusing look.
Lydia shrugs like I can’t possible expect her to share my bad luck.
Flynn snickers. “Don’t cough too hard, Cole, or you’ll kill the mortal by accident.”
Cole’s lips quirk at his friend’s bad joke, and my insides turn to mush. Fuck. Up-close, his pale skin gleams from within. His dark curls are longer on top than on the sides. The loose ringlets cast shadows over his angular features. It’s the kind of face—the kind of man—that sparks unhealthy obsessions. I can feel the jealous glares tingling at the back of my neck, half the class seething behind me. Especially the Barbie twins.
I sink my nails into my palms to keep from touching him.
“I’m Cole.” His voice is fucking unbelievable. It’s got the raspy drawl of a rock star mixed with a crystal-clear pitch. It’s secretive. Sexual.
My fight-or-flight instinct kicks in.
I glare at his outstretched hand and keep my arms firmly wrapped around my body. “I know who you are.”
His brows raise, and his amber eyes grow a shade colder. A peculiar darkness passes over his face before he lets his rejected hand fall to his side. The bunch of his muscular forearms makes me gulp. His gaze skims me up and down and up again, his face stuck in a sneer like he finds me lacking in everything that counts. Like I’m a particle of dirt he might crush between his stupidly powerful hands. “Ditto, Sabrina.” The words are frostier than a puff of breath in an icy desert.
I clear my throat and hold the intense stare. “My name is Jules.”
With a shrug, he breaks the spell and sits on the stool next to mine. The change in position makes him slightly less scary, but he’s got a good foot on me.
The corner of his mouth twitches before he leans in.
I stretch away, almost jumping off my seat to keep a safe distance between us.
The satisfied grin on his face is worse than a punch. “You witches should watch yourselves. The school might have allowed mortals to come back, but not everyone agrees.” The inflections of his measured voice brim with quiet violence, a venom wrapped in such a rich, velvety packaging that it expects you to drink willingly from its sting.
It reeks of wealth and entitlement.
“Is that a threat?” I croak, unable to think of something better.
“I’m just saying. Don’t go out alone at night, Sabrina.” He winks and turns to his cauldron with a lazy smile, the feigned warmth perfect in its hollowness.
A metallic glint catches my eye. Three round earrings, one brass, one copper, one silver almost mask the ends of his pointy Fae ears.
Schooling my gaze back to the front, I watch the rest of the teams being made, but I can barely hear a word above the whooshing of blood at my temples. We have to practice time-delay modifiers to basic spells, essentially adding a timer on spells we’re already comfortable with.
It’d be easy enough if I wasn’t so on edge.
The Fae’s proximity creates ripples of goosebumps across my arms. I can feel the heat of his thigh through the few inches of space between us. My chest is too warm, the tips of my fingers crackling with fire.
Deep breaths.
