15. Draven
15
DRAVEN
What is this witch doing to me? I’ve never felt so out of control, so consumed by another person. It’s dangerous. It’s tempting. It’s irresistible.
I need to see her again. To touch her, to claim her. The memory of last night burns through me, stoking the flames of my desire for her.
“Thinking about the sweet witch?”
“Fuck off,” I snap, already walking away from Luc.
I had to get away from Matilda after she saw me lurking outside her class. She will think I’m some kind of stalker if I’m not more careful. But I was drawn to her. I was supposed to be in the class next to hers, am supposed to be there now, but I can’t think, I can’t focus. With every breath I take, I fall deeper into the rabbit hole that Matilda is tempting me into.
I stride across the courtyard, but he follows, taunting me.
“She is fucking gorgeous when she comes,” he says, dropping his voice to an almost whisper.
I keep walking, not rising to the bait. He does this all the fucking time. I know it infuriates him that I don’t bite, so that is the only reason I try to play it cool… ish. “I told you to fuck off.”
“I’m so madly curious about the sweet witch. She’s special. Where did you meet her?”
“None of your business.”
“Must’ve been a quick meet and greet if you arrived with her.”
“How do you know I don’t know her from another time?”
“She pretty much told me she met you last night. Did she fuck you in return for a ride? Is she a little whore? Are you using her?”
There comes a time in a young Necromancer’s life when he has simply had enough of his arsehole, cunting half-brother. This is that time. I slam my hand on his chest, shoving him up against the wall of the hallway. Death fills the air, creating a black shimmer all around as the stench of decay and destruction settles between us.
His eyes flash with anger, but he isn’t afraid. I can’t kill him, no more than he can kill me, but I’ll be fucked if I stand here and let him talk about Matilda like that.
“Listen carefully, you piece of shit,” I snarl, my face inches from Luc’s. “You don’t talk about Matilda like that. Ever. She’s not some whore, and she’s definitely not for you to speculate, or even think about.”
Luc’s eyes narrow, smiling, despite the scent of death swirling around us. “Touched a nerve, have I? You’re awfully protective of a girl you just met.”
I tighten my grip on his shirt, feeling my power pulse through my veins. “I mean it, Luc. Stay away from her.”
“No, I don’t think I will,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Her nightmare last night has intrigued me. My reaction to her, even more so. I want to explore that. Figure out who and what she is. If she wants it, there is nothing you can do to stop it, and last night, she wasn’t exactly pushing me away.”
“You didn’t really give her much of a chance, did you? Did you know that she comes from an abusive home? That some fucking cunt there forced her to do things to him, and no one stopped him? Do you?” I’m raging and telling secrets that aren’t mine to tell, but it’s too late.
I rose to the bait and now Matilda will pay the price.
I loathe myself.
I breathe in deeply, shaking as I let Luc go.
His expression has turned to one of mild surprise, probably over what I said, but also that I said it. “What?” he snarls. “So that nightmare is real?” He straightens his shirt, and his face has gone dark. His eyes are black, and I can see his half-Devil side itching to come out to play. Not that I would stop it if those bastards were here.
“Gentlemen,” a sharp voice echoes down the hallway. “Shouldn’t you two be in class? Separate ones at that?”
I turn my head to see Professor Blackthorn striding towards us.
Reluctantly, I step away from Luc as Professor Blackthorn approaches, his fierce glare snapping between us. The scent of death and decay still lingers in the air, and I resist the urge to waft at it, knowing it will only draw more attention to it, like a rogue fart.
“Professor,” I acknowledge, forcing my voice to remain neutral despite the rage still simmering beneath the surface.
“Care to explain why you’re not in your respective classes?” Blackthorn asks, his tone deceptively mild. I know better than to be fooled by it. It’s exactly like the one Mum uses before she rips us a new arsehole.
Luc, also realising we are in deep shit, flashes a disarming smile. “Just a friendly chat between brothers, Professor. Nothing to worry about.”
Blackthorn’s eyes narrow, clearly not buying it. “I see. And this chat couldn’t wait until lunch?”
I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to glare at Luc. “It won’t happen again, sir.”
“See that it doesn’t,” Blackthorn says sharply. “Now, both of you, get to class. Immediately.”
As we turn to leave, Blackthorn’s voice stops us. “Oh, and gentlemen? This is your only warning. I’m not about to get on your mother’s bad side and she has required full weekly reports on your behaviour. Take this bone I’m throwing you and chew on it for a while, yes?”
“Yes, sir,” I gulp when the suspicion I had is confirmed. Mum is not letting us get away with any shit while we are here.
I glare at Luc and stalk off, slipping back into the Death Magick Mastery class and muttering that I was talking with Professor Blackthorn as my excuse. Not quite a lie, not the whole truth.
As I settle back into my seat, my mind races. The encounter with Luc has left me unsettled. I revealed things about Matilda that weren’t mine to share, and the guilt gnaws at me. It’s an emotion I’m not used to, and I don’t like it.
Professor Mortis drones on about advanced Necromantic techniques, all of which I already know. My dad is Death. He pretty much taught me from the day I was born what it is to be what we are. It’s more than communing with the dead, more than having control over death, more than raising armies of zombies or whatever the hell else. It’s about balance. The delicate dance between life and death, the power to tip the scales in either direction. As a Necromancer, I walk the line between worlds, always aware of the fragile nature of existence.
My thoughts drift back to Matilda. I shouldn’t have told Luc about her. I’ve potentially put her in a vulnerable position. Luc feeds on sexual energy and desire. If he decides to pursue Matilda, she won’t stand a chance, especially with the way we can’t seem to keep our hands off each other. I will be feeding her straight to him.
The thought makes me sick. The picture of her going to him, riding him like she has done with me, makes me feel physically ill. But then, the image shifts and I’m there as well. I shake my head my cock rages to attention.
This is bad. A very, very bad path to meander down.
“Your Highness,” Professor Mortis drawls sarcastically, letting me know he has called my name more than once. “Perhaps you’d like to demonstrate the technique we’ve been discussing?”
I blink, realising I haven’t heard a single word he’s said for the past ten minutes. “Of course, Professor,” I say smoothly, standing up. “And that would be?”
The class snickers, and Mortis sighs, rolling his eyes.
“I understand that you are already a master of Necromancy, Draven. But the rest of the class is here to learn. Perhaps you are better suited to assist than sit there bored as all fuck?”
My eyes widen as the class gapes at the professor swearing. He issues me a challenge, and I grin. “Oh, you have no idea how much better suited I would be to that, Professor.”
“Excellent,” he says, clapping his hands. “Now, please demonstrate to the class the notion of raising the dead, but keep it simple, eh, Your Highness? We don’t want an army of rampant zombies let loose on the academy.” He shoves a dead plant over the desk.
“I can do that,” I say with a nod, hoping my appreciation shines through as he has given me a reason to be here now. I will look forward to this class, and I have good odds that Mum will be impressed. That goes a long fucking way.