Page 9 of Forbidden Magic
“Not many mortals of any kind. You’re outnumbered 30 to 1, my pretties.” She chucks out a dark laugh. “You’re like the school’s scholarship students. The guinea pigs. If you survive the year, there will be more coming. If you don’t…”
The taunt in her voice is barely enough to smother the spark of fear tucked deep in my chest. Citizens of this realm are categorized as human, but supernaturals can either be mortal, like witches and seers, or immortal.
Vampires are human but age very slowly. Shifters and mermaids, too. As a witch, I’ll probably die around 100 years old. That’s great as far as non-supernatural humans go, but it’s a far cry from the 600-800 years Melanie’s got. Inhumans are Fairy folks and demons.
The vampire’s chair screeches as she angles herself to the back of the room. “Trent and his goons are annoying but mostly harmless. The far-end table on the other hand…”
Lydia peeks over the sprites to the very back, and her cheeks heat up. “Who’s that?”
I crane my neck around and catch a glimpse of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He’s got blond, almost translucent hair and an angular jaw. His golden skin contrasts with the redwood table he’s sitting on. I wonder how I missed him before because his whole body radiates from within. His light pulls me in like he’s the harbor and I’ve been forever lost at sea.
Melanie leans in conspiratorially. “The blond is Flynn Verinos. He’s totally in love with his Fae-self.”
My tongue drags against the roof of my mouth. “Fae?”
“Yep. We’ve got five representatives of Fairy gracing us with their annoyingly sinful presence.”
Most of the Fae live their whole lives in Fairy. It’s one of the three realms, along with ours and the demon dimension, a mysterious, hellish place full of violence and monsters. The Seelie court made a deal with the Magisterium a couple of centuries ago. The Faes have had a representative on the High Council ever since, and some choose to live in this realm.
Dad warned me they’d be here. He warned me they’d be beautiful.
He didn’t warn me about how they’d make me feel.
The urge to run up to this Flynn and beg him to speak to me is almost undeniable. I want to memorize the exact shape of his lips when he smiles and drag my fingers in his luxurious hair. He moves like a cat, a panther, his large frame hunched against the wall at his back, his arm casually reaching up to the base of the painting hanging above him. The way he lounges is both nonchalant and perfectly studied, no movement wasted or unsure like he’s posing for Michealangelo himself.
Melanie snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Damn it. I forgot how mortals react to Fae glamors, especially the first time.”
Lydia jumps when Melanie slams her palm on the table.
Schooling my gaze back to Melanie, I swallow hard. “Are they as bad as people say?”
My father told me that the Fae lobbied the hardest against the Academy’s new mortal policies. They can’t stand that such inferior beings get educated at all.
“Depends on your definition ofbad,” Melanie says. “They walk around like they own the place, but in a way, they do. We need the Fae’s magic to keep humans from finding out about us now more than ever. Don’t let them catch you staring. None of them would hesitate a second about milking their advantage over two girls like you. They might fuck you if you beg, but it’s a game. I’m not saying it’s not worth the hassle, but don’t expect a call come Monday. You’re only useful as a mirror to their perfection, and their egos are already too big for this school.”
I struggle to look everywhere but at Flynn and fail. The door next to him opens wide, and a shadow obscures the mesmerizing Fae boy.
Holy Lucifer.
If Flynn looks like an angel, then the devil just walked in.
5
The Devil Prince
He’s dark in every way Flynn was light. Black ringlets spill haphazardly to his forehead and absorb a bit of the ambient light like the river Styx was poured directly into them. His jaw is cut straight from a block of marble. The smooth skin of his neck gives way to large shoulders hidden beneath the Academy’s black undershirt. The knot in his tie, like everything else about him, is expertly disheveled.
His faded blue jeans hang low on his hips and stick out in a sea of black, uniform pants. I find myself staring at his ass.
Red-hot shame encircles my heart at the thoughts and images that follow, most of them R-rated, all of them inappropriate.
It’s like I’ve gone from normal person to sex-crazed, desperate virgin in the blink of a very horny eye.
But the feelings are weirdly empty. His beauty makes me feel small and ugly.
The girl trailing behind him looks like a young, goddess-like Angelina Jolie. Her cheekbones are impossibly sharp, enough to slice a boy’s heart. She’s whispering dirty secrets in the devil’s ear with crisp red lips. Her light blue hair is braided as a crown, showing off her delicate pointy ears. Another Fae, no doubt.
The boy’s hand skims her butt, her short plaid skirt outrageous.
