Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nikolai
Icheck my watch. Her independent study begins in thirty minutes.
If it had been up to me, I’d have kept my distance.
She could have been just another student.
I had no interest in engaging with a Solis.
But it wasn’t up to me. And now it’s too late.
She’s buried herself deep beneath my skin—like a fucking thorn.
I clench and unclench my fists—I have to quench this unshakable thirst to piece her together.
Inhaling a deep breath full of the scent of leather and aged parchment seeping from the books that I have collected over the last few decades, I focus on the question that has been slowly eating away at me: Why can’t I break through her mental shield?
It’s been gnawing at me bit by bit, like a moth to a wool cardigan.
I review every encounter where I’ve tried to read her mind or compel her, and all I received was static.
Yesterday, as I pushed at her mental wall, I felt it crack under my weight.
I got a glimpse of a memory or a dream. Then it was gone.
She exorcised me from her mind and ended up writhing on the lecture hall floor, screaming.
I had to feed deeply last night to cease the headache that had taken up residence between my eyes from combating her mental defenses.
She looked right at me when I was probing her mind, her defiantly piercing eyes refusing to back down, like she knew exactly what I was doing.
The sheer strength it takes to withstand that level of pressure on one’s shield and the pain that comes with someone forcefully reaching into their mind to remove it is not consistent with an untrained magica.
Is what is buried in her head so important to protect that she would willingly withstand that level of pain?
What secrets do you have in there, Vladlena?
My frustration has given way to intrigue.
She’s clever, beyond her ability to withstand compulsion.
Yet she does not act as if she is of our world.
An enigma. Now, I have a compulsive desire to break her apart, uncover every secret until I intimately understand each little facet of her being.
In order not to damage that arresting mind of hers, I need to be fastidious in my approach.
It appears Kian would rather I pry the doors open.
Better me in her head than the creeps at Ironnull Prison.
But Kian, with his stygian magic, doesn’t understand, not truly, how easy it is to break a mind.
Sure, it takes a certain level of delicate touch, a tactfulness to wield his umbra shadows.
But to walk through a mind without causing irreparable damage requires a deft instinct and an elegance of precision.
It cannot be rushed. It should be savored.
Kian’s latest theory is that Vladlena’s incompetence is all just an act and she is more complicatedly intertwined with the Dark Suns than we’d originally anticipated.
Is she trying to throw us off track by playing the social outcast role?
It’s incredibly hard to watch. I cringe every time I hear a new rumor about her or stumble upon a social media post featuring her shortcomings and social fuckups.
Yesterday, when my students pulled out their phones to record her episode, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I made sure each and every recording of her screaming was deleted.
Is Kian right? Or is it something else, something deeper?
Kian’s right about one thing: She is hiding something in that pretty little head of hers.
I run my hands through my hair and let out a deep puff of air.
She’s becoming my new obsession. This isn’t good for me either.
I tried explaining that to Kian, too. He’s usually the first person to tell me to back off.
But in this case, with unrest building amongst the noble houses, he wants to uncover any unanticipated challenges more than he’s worried about me destroying her… or myself.
Then there’s the added complication of her being my student.
When I saw the fucking video of Professor Isleen Luna feeding on her fear, I smashed my phone.
Who does Isleen think she is to feed from Vladlena?
She got away with it on a technicality; we’re allowed to feed from students for “educational purposes.” I imagine sampling such a unique bouquet as Vladlena was an opportunity too salivating to pass up.
I wonder if her blood tastes how she smells. Like a beautifully smoky cocktail?
And then there are the other things I’d like to do to her, things that I’m definitely not supposed to as her professor. My mind churns over the memory of the way her teeth bit into that pouty bottom lip when she confronted me in the woods.
It’s a rare trait that someone will put their foot down with me, resist compulsion, and tell me to fuck off.
That mouth is utterly indecent. Her breathy little gasp and those bratty defiant eyes.
I wanted to devour her in every way possible.
My cock strains against my fly, and I palm myself through my slacks.
Fuck. I let my mind wander to the memory of her in the woods, the swell of her breasts rising with frenetic breaths, to her mouth shaping the willful words—
“Professor?” I startle as her sultry voice jumps out of my imagination and into my office. I covertly adjust myself before she pushes the door wider. “May I come in?” Her cheeks are flushed a warm rosy color from the cool evening air.
“Please do.” I motion to the chair across from me. I attempt to give her a smile, but my eyes catch on the pulse in her neck. I can practically see her blood moving through those pretty lavender veins. I take a breath and force myself to refocus on her face as she sits.
“You’ve been passing out,” I state. I meant to speak to her about this yesterday, until I realized she’d overheard Kian and me talking—a slipup I’d only made due to the fatigue from trying to break her mental wall.
But this conversation can’t wait any longer.
She looks sickly tonight, like she’s faring little better than she was in my classroom yesterday.
Her face is gaunt, and deep purple bruises mar her under eyes.
There’s a barely perceptible tremor in her hands. “More than just yesterday.”
“The physician thinks I’m not used to drawing on my reserves, that with the start of the semester, I’m using too much energy without replenishing it quickly enough.” She twists her fingers in her hideously frumpy skirt.
“That’s possible,” I muse. “There is, of course, another explanation.” Her large round eyes look up at me, hanging on my every word.
I’m not yet sure whether she’s genuinely intrigued by alternative theories or simply trying to gauge how much I know about her and whether I’ve caught on to her prevarications.
“You could be experiencing energy deficiency because you’re not properly replenishing yourself.
If your mother was not of a Seraphim Insignis, you may need another restoration method. ”
“You mean if she were a shifter, for example, I’d need to socialize with other shifters?”
“Yes, but it’s highly unlikely that your mother was from another kingdom.
Not to mention taboo and, in most cases, outright illegal,” I explain.
“I was thinking more that she might’ve been another type of Convalescere Insignis.
For example, seraphim and angels both obtain energy from rest and self-regeneration, but the best form of rest is different for each. ”
I search her face for signs of comprehension or malicious intent as I continue, “If we knew your mother’s insignis, then we might be able to make better recommendations.
” I’ve been mulling it over since she left my class…
if I can’t break into her mind, then it’s time to change tactics.
“Is there anything at all you can share about your mother?”
“Not really.” She purses her lips. “People assume she’s human. Except for Kian, I suppose.”
“Yes, King Kian,” I correct, and she rolls her eyes, but I continue in spite of the brattiness, “is able to recognize the magnitude of a magica’s abilities through examining someone’s aura.
You don’t have a half-human power signature.
” I watch the pulse in her neck for signs of deception.
“Anything else you can tell me about your parentage?”
“No.” Her face is impassive, but her pulse upticks; she’s lying.
“Are you sure?” I push.
“I know nothing about my mother.” Truth. Her heart rate and breathing are steady, but with the previous lie, it does little to relieve my suspicions.
“Alright.” I’m not going to get any more from her right now, but I make a mental note to question her more about her family to uncover where the lie is.
What does she know that she hasn’t shared?
I stand, searching the bookshelves behind my desk.
I pull a rare tome from the shelf and look back at her over my shoulder.
“Did you practice your magic since we spoke last?”
She grimaces. “Yes.” She nervously rubs her reddening palms together. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“Keep working on it,” I say as I return to my seat.
“Did you watch Legally Blonde?” She smirks up at me.
“No.” Yes, it was regrettably delightful. I slide the copy of The Ways of Convalescere Light and Stygian Magic across my desk. “This is from my personal collection and does not leave my office. You may spend the rest of our session studying.”
“Are you just going to sit there and watch me read?” she asks incredulously.
“Nope. I’m going to play Candy Crush,” I deadpan.
“No you’re not.” She smiles, taking the book from me and flipping it open.
“No. I’m not,” I reply stone-faced, while I lean back in my chair, propping my feet up on the desk. She lets out an adorable annoyed little huff, and I pull out my phone to a slew of text messages. Can’t even tease my obsession in peace.
Teariki: Bonfire next Saturday?
Boden: Can’t, we’ve got the welcome back party
Callum: Yippie
Kian: Don’t act like you’re not jumping at the britches for a party in the woods.
Callum: Britches? Okay grandpa…
Boden: Don’t tease him Cal, it’s past his bedtime.
Callum: You all could always join us at the party?
I roll my eyes. The last thing I want to do with my Saturday is spend time on campus.
Nik: Oh yes that is exactly what we want, hanging out with a bunch of students.
Boden: Everyone will be dressed like slutty woodland creatures
Teariki: Well in that case….
Vladlena, enraptured in her reading, gently gnaws on her plush lower lip.
I suppose there might be a certain appeal to forest-creature costumes.
I scan the section she’s studying intently Stygian Magic of the Fallen.
Odd, I’d expect her to be more interested in the section titled Ways of Accessing Seraphim Light Magic since she appears to be having difficulties reaching her own magic. My phone buzzes again.
Kian: By the way I gave permission for Miss Solis to attend. Boden, Cal, you’re on babysitting duty.
Boden: Really, Kian? Hasn’t she been given enough allowances?
Teariki: Lighten up, the poor girl could use some fun.
Nik: She needs a lot more than fun.
Boden:…
Callum:…
Nik: Grow up. I mean she looks sick as shit.
Boden: Oh yeah, probably because Katri kicked her ass in combat yesterday
Teariki: I saw the bruises. Not cool.
Callum: I’ll take Lena surveillance duty. But I’m helping with the party setup, so I can’t escort her.
Kian: That’s fine. She should be able to get herself there without incident.
Boden: “Should” being the operative word
Callum: Someone else needs to be on duty for Big Guy’s challenge ceremony.
Kian: Sure. Nik and I will take shifts.
Kian: Speaking of, any progress, Nik?
I debriefed with him less than twenty-four hours ago to discuss the Transformare Events Committee and their attempt to uninvite Vladlena from Ariki’s Ceremony without approval from us, which did not go over well to say the least. The Transformare Events Committee consists of some of the lower noble houses, Luko, Gatti, and Orlov, specifically.
Still, they answer to the Cross-Kingdom Council and the royals, like all committees across the realm.
Not that Kian wants Vladlena at the ceremony, but he desires control in all things, especially as it pertains to her.
Nik: Working on it.
Teariki: You’re with her right now? How’s she looking?
Boden:…
Kian:…
Teariki: I mean, does she look any healthier from yesterday?
I glance up at Lena as she stretches her arms above her head, arching her back.
Her ugly little skirt has risen up, flashing a glimpse of her delicate thighs.
My favorite artery is in a person’s thigh.
An artery that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that first day in class.
Oh, who am I kidding, since I saw the first surveillance shot of her, behind the bar where she worked—beautiful and effervescent.
In person, she’s even more so, every step graceful and every movement luscious.
She’s fucking stunning. She’s got the kind of flirtatious wit that sinks its claws right into your heart and your…
other body parts. I shake my head. No! She’s not attractive.
She’s a fucking Solis. I type out a hurried reply.
Nik: Like I said, she looks like shit.
Callum: Someone needs a nap and a bag of O-neg.
Teariki updated Nik’s name to Prof. Grumpy Fangs
Prof. Grumpy Fangs: Fuck off!