Page 49 of Magical Academy for Delinquents
I leaned back and smacked him with a laugh. “Put your shirt down.”
The sight of Evan coming out of the guys’ locker room, dressed for combat made me freeze and I lost whatever humor Zavier’s playfulness had caused. Zavier settled me onto his lap, and I didn’t even notice when his hands settled on my thighs.
My eyes followed Evan as he walked toward the ladders. Unlike the other competitors, who’d worn black, Evan wore some ridiculous gold-colored wrestling suit that was skintight. Everywhere.
Around me, people started laughing. Emelia and I looked at each other, confused. She asked Zavier, “Why’s he dressed like that?”
“Newbs who fight have to wear that shit,” Zavier answered.
Emelia stared over at me, disbelief etched on her face. “This school! I can’t believe the stuff they do. This should be illegal.”
More than the crap that the Metamorphose staff got away with, I couldn’t believe that Evan actually pulled that suit off. He didn’t look like an idiot. He looked like some goddamned fucking Greek statue dipped in gold. Fucking asshole. His eyes met mine. Of course, they did. Because after Potts’ had planted bullshit thoughts in my brain, and after Zavier had said what he’d said … I was obviously gonna be tortured, not just by Evan’s presence, but by stupid niggling doubt.
“Why’s he fighting?”
Z just looked at me and shook his head, pity stretching across his features.
I turned away from the tournament, away from Evan’s bright blue eyes, with Potts’ words about survivor’s guilt and dark paths ringing in my ears. “You know he’s in love with you right?” Zavier’s question scratched at the hole in my chest. I couldn’t think, couldn’t deal with it.
I climbed off Zavier’s lap and grabbed my backpack.
“Hey, we were cuddling,” Zavier protested.
But I shook my head. I grabbed my earbuds from my pocket and slid them in. Then I took my phone and turned on this Norm heavy metal band, Mol. I pushed play on “Bruma” and let the screaming lyrics take over.
Once again, I turned away from Emelia and Z.Maybe I’m just not meant to have friends,I thought as I slid up a couple bleacher levels so that I could sit alone surrounded by lies and plans. That’s who I’d become. That was the real me. Not the girl flirting with Zavier. Not the girl who wondered whether her brother’s best friend might actually care for her or if he was just acting out of old guilt.
I pulled up an app and searched the dark web for a fucker who might know a Tock, and how I could get in touch with one.
Chapter 20
Monday passedin a blur until I walked into tutoring. Malcolm sat calmly in our assigned study room, number 62, as though what was about to happen was no big deal. Maybe for him that was true. But I’d already pissed him off a few times. And though I’d come here expecting Grayson to be the bigger challenge, something about Malcolm was just … overwhelming.
The study room looked like any other. Just a couple beige walls, with a big window on one side so that the librarian could ensure ‘propriety.’ Inside was a wooden table and four chairs with a metal rolling library cart against one wall for unused books. But when I stepped inside, this study room was immediately twenty degrees colder than any other. My breath misted in the air and my nipples pebbled under my shirt. I was only wearing a sports bra, so they were incredibly obvious. I crossed my arms, backpack still on my shoulders and asked, “Sorry, but this overkill, don’t you think?”
Malcolm glanced up from his laptop. He closed it and put it into his bag. “Take a seat,” he gestured across from me and then bent to get something else.
I sat with my back to the window, facing him. But even after I’d shed my bag, I couldn’t bear the cold. “My teeth are gonna start chattering in like two minutes,” I warned.
Malcolm huffed but tossed me his jacket. “Idiots from Grayson’s posse have come in here nonstop to tell me to fuck with you. I don’t want them hanging around.”
I slid my arms into his dark blue fleece, which was soft, and immediately cut down the chill. It had one of those freshly laundered scents to it that I noticed as I folded the extra length on the sleeves back so that it fit me. “Sorry about that.”
“Told you not to get involved with that shit. Especially as a Darklight. You’re lucky no one else here knows you have all that power. You wouldn’t be able to fight them all off. You should leave Grayson and his gang alone.”
“I’ve got a plan.”
Malcolm set a deck of cards on the table and leaned onto his elbows. “Do tell.” His bright blue eyes sparkled with mirth. Today he had on a big watch with a leather strap and a second hand that ticked loudly, filling the room with little clicks. It looked old and fit his fifties look perfectly.
I ignored his request and changed the subject. He didn’t need to know all my plans for Grayson. Not until he trusted me. “What’s with the watch?”
“We’re gonna play a game,” Malcolm said. He stared at me until I met his eyes. When I did, my breath caught, because there was a fiery intensity in his gaze. There was something dark and direct about Malcolm that drew me in.
The room grew colder, but a flash of heat crept up my thighs and settled there. The band of heat stroked up and down my legs until I swallowed hard. “Is this the game?” Was he trying to make me come by heat magic alone?
More cold crept down my chest and settled on my nipples, but nowhere else, making me agonizingly aware of them. The heat flicked again, this time over my slit and my stomach tightened. I tried to regain control, lacing my fingers on the table in front of me, clenching my teeth for a second until I could calmly say, “What are the rules of your game?”
Instantly, the heat and cold retreated, leaving me wanting and disappointed. It had been too long since I’d had an orgasm.
