Chapter 31
Brigid
I stare at the chalkboard, my mind far from the mundane lecture on Fae history. My thoughts keep drifting back to yesterday.
To Lochan.
I still don't know why his dislike affects me the way it does. People disliking me is certainly nothing new. But with him, it hurts more than it should.
The classroom hums with whispered conversations and creaks as students shift in their chairs, but I'm lost in my own world. Professor Eldritch arranges papers on his desk, preparing to start the lesson.
I think about yesterday afternoon, after whatever that fucked up encounter was with Lochan. Sure enough, I’d had a visit from members of the Council.
Apparently, the Council is the authority responsible for governing the supernatural realm, including Grimstone Academy, and any use of magic to commit a crime is immediately their jurisdiction.
I’d learned from Eira that the Council had formed after the Raven King’s rebellion, creating a single governing body to unite the different groups in an perpetual state of peace. The Council was permanent and absolute, made up of the rulers of each faction.
The investigators' cold eyes had bored into me as they questioned me in my room. They’d asked if I had been in contact with anyone outside the academy. Their voices had dripped with suspicion.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the interrogation replaying in my mind. But when I do, all I see is Lochan's face, his strong arms on either side of me as he cornered me in the hallway. My stomach twists. Why does he get under my skin like this?
One minute he's threatening me, the next... I remember the heat of his body as he leaned in close, his scent, like spiced bourbon, overwhelming my senses.
Damn him .
I hate how he makes me feel—vulnerable, exposed. Yet there's something about him that I can't shake. It makes me stay when I should run. Makes me move closer instead of backing away.
"Ms. Ryan?" Professor Eldritch's voice cuts through my reverie. "Perhaps you'd like to share your thoughts on the Seelie Court's influence in the 16th century?"
Shit . I straighten up, scrambling for an answer as the class turns to stare at me.
I clear my throat, buying time. "The Seelie Court's influence was... significant?” My mind's blank.
A low chuckle from beside me. “What’s got you worked up this morning?”
Marius .
His fingers brush my arm, raising goosebumps. "Little bird. Who do I need to kill?"
My head snaps back to him, eyes wide.
He smiles, all teeth and danger.
I clench my jaw, torn between the urge to tell him everything and the need to keep my secrets close. "It's nothing," I lie, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "I'm fine."
Marius' dark eyes narrow, seeing right through my bullshit. "Liar," he whispers, his tone a mix of amusement and, something else. Something that makes my pulse quicken. "But don't worry, little bird. I'll get it out of you eventually."
His fingers brush my cheek, feather-light yet electric.
A shock surges through me at his touch.
"I see you,” he murmurs.
The feeling that someone is watching me makes me tear my gaze from Marius.
Laria is staring at us, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, twisting her mouth, and for a moment I wonder why I ever thought she was beautiful. I see her more clearly now. Her pale eyes glitter with malice as she takes in the scene.
But I have enough to think about without worrying about what Laria’s going to try next.
When class is dismissed I bolt from my seat, nearly toppling my chair in my haste.
My feet carry me swiftly through Grimstone's winding corridors, the old stone walls a blur as I pass. The dining hall looms ahead, the noise of chattering students spilling out into the hallway. I can't deal with more people right now.
I veer left, taking the stairs two at a time, and find the hallway that leads back to my room.
I burst through the door, slamming it shut behind me. The silence envelops me like a warm blanket. I lean against the door, eyes closed, exhaling slowly.
"Rough day, darling?"
My eyes snap open. Callen lounges on my bed, looking like sin personified. His black hair falls in artful disarray, those otherworldly pale blue eyes fixed on me like a cat stalking its prey.
"What the actual hell, Callen?" I splutter, my heart racing. "How did you…”
Why do these men keep sneaking into my bedroom?
He smiles like the Cheshire cat, flashing his perfect, gleaming teeth. "Is that any way to greet your prince?"
I feel an involuntary throb between my legs . Damn Fae allure. I force my voice to stay steady. "What are you doing in my room? And you’re not my prince."
“Play your cards right, and I could be.” Callen stretches languidly. "I thought you might appreciate some company."
I snort. "And if I wanted to be alone?"
"Then you'd be missing out on all this." He gestures to himself with wave of his hand.
I roll my eyes, but can't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "You're impossible."
"Impossibly charming, remember?"
I move further into the room, dropping my bag on the floor. "You still haven't answered my question. How did you get in here?” Maybe if one of them tells me how they’re doing it I can figure out how to stop them. Like plugging a hole so vermin can’t get in.
Callen's eyes glint. "A prince never reveals his secrets."
"That's magicians, Callen.”
He laughs, the sound rich and beguiling. "Come here," he says, patting the bed beside him.
I hesitate, torn between wanting to keep my distance and the magnetic pull of his presence. I feel it tugging at me, every time he’s near.
"I don't bite," Callen adds, then grins wickedly. "Unless you ask nicely."
My cheeks burn. "You're incorrigible."
"Another compliment! You're on a roll today, darling."
I perch on the edge of the bed, excessively aware of his proximity.
"Now," Callen says, his voice sends a pleasant shiver over me. "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"
I shift uneasily, avoiding his sharp gaze. "Nothing's bothering me."
"Bullshit darling," Callen says. "You've been skipping meals, avoiding people. Avoiding me ." As he says the last part he arches an eyebrow accusingly.
My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, betraying me. I look at Callen, a smug smile playing on his lips.
"Fine," I mutter. "I've been distracted."
Callen leans in, his mouth close to my ear. "Then allow me to redirect your attention."
He snaps his fingers, and suddenly the room is filled with mouthwatering aromas. I blink in surprise as an elaborate spread materializes on a table in the middle of the room—roasted meats, fresh bread, vibrant fruits, and decadent desserts.
"How did you—“
"Eat," Callen commands, his voice brooking no argument. He guides me to the chair, his hand on the small of my back sending sparks through my body.
I sink into the seat, overwhelmed by the feast before me. "This is too much. I’d be fine with a granola bar."
Callen leans against the desk, arms crossed. "Nothing's too much for you, lovely. Now eat. You need your strength for the Harrowing. Also, granola bars are revolting.”
I pick up a fork. "Why do you care?"
“Who says I do?” Callen tosses a red berry into his mouth.
I stop, a piece of fruit halfway to my mouth. “Why are you like this?” I can’t help rolling my eyes.
Callen ignores me and continues picking at the fruit. “You know, it’s not personal.”
"What do you mean?"
Callen’s eyes find mine. "Lochan. He's lost people. To shadow magic."
"Who?" I ask, hunger forgotten.
He shakes his head. "It's not my story to tell. But it's why he's so... extreme… about it all. About you."
I frown, frustrated by the half-explanations. "Is that why you’re here? To plead Lochan’s case?"
Callen's smile is brittle. "Maybe I just enjoy your company."
"Or maybe you want something from me," I challenge.
His laugh is bold. "Oh, I definitely want something from you, Brigid. But for now, I'll settle for watching you eat."
I narrow my eyes but take another bite of the venison, roasted with a crust of juniper berries and thyme. It’s extra delicious after a few days of subsisting on basically whatever I could carry back to my room without attracting attention.
Callen reaches behind him, producing a bottle of opaline liquid.
"Only if you want to," he says, uncorking it. The scent hits me—wild berries and something else that I can’t name.
My lips part. "What is it?"
"Wine." He pours two glasses, mine much smaller than his. "Careful, it's potent."
Fae wine. I take a sip, and it's like drinking starlight. Warmth spreads through me, loosening my muscles. Another sip, and the room softens at the edges.
"Wow, this is strong stuff." I look up at Callen, and see amusement in his eyes.
We eat dessert, tiny little chocolate truffles with ganache centers infused with flavors of champagne and hazelnut, and dusted with gold.
And we talk.
Or more accurately, I talk. Callen leans back and lets me ramble on for the better part of an hour.
I try to pour myself more wine and he takes the bottle from me, then with a snap of his fingers everything is gone— table and all.
I pout, and he laughs.
"You're even more adorable when you let your guard down, you know."
"Shut up," I say, but I'm smiling.
He leans closer. "Make me."
My heart races. I grab his shirt, pulling him to me. Our lips meet, and the heady feeling makes me want more. His tongue explores my mouth, tasting of wine and chocolate.
Callen breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. “Pace yourself, darling.”
"Bed. Now."
He lifts me effortlessly, laying me on the soft sheets. He arches an eyebrow questioningly, and I nod in answer. His fingers make quick work of my clothes, leaving me bare and trembling. Satisfaction swells in my chest as I see his intake of breath.
"Touch me," I whisper, boldly arching towards him.
"So demanding," he teases, trailing a finger down my body. "What if I don't?"
I growl, frustrated. "Then you can get out."
“My, my, the little mouse is getting bolder.” His index finger circles my belly button, then pulls away.
“Fucker.”
Callen's eyes darken. "Careful, little one. I am a prince, after all."
“Like I said, not my prince.”
“Insubordination will be punished.”
“Is that a threat— prince ?” I mock with a smile that lets him know I’m ready to play this game. More than ready.
“Oh my darling, it’s a warning.” Callen’s lips curl up in a deadly smile. “And you only get one.” In a swift, fluid motion he has me flipped onto my belly.
"You wouldn't dare—"
The sharp crack of his hand on my ass cuts me off. I gasp, heat blooming where he struck.
"You were saying?" Callen's voice is dangerous.
My thoughts are a jumble of 'oh fuck' and 'more please.' I squirm, desperate for friction.
Callen's other hand slips under me and his fingers find my clit, circling slowly. "Is this what you want?"
I nod frantically, my face pressed into the bed.
I feel the sting of another slap and the pleasure that comes from the pain and the warmth that spreads through my body makes me moan, wantonly. I grasp the bedsheets in my hands. His fingers flick over my clit in swift, teasing circles, building the intensity between my legs as I beg silently for more.
He deftly inserts two fingers deep within me, expertly curling them to maximize the sensations. I moan, the pleasure rapidly intensifying. His fingers skillfully stroke my inner most regions. Every movement is carefully calculated to induce maximum pleasure.
I arch my back, pressing into his fingers, seeking more contact; his fingers now slick with my arousal, glide effortlessly in and out of me. The sensations are overwhelming, building to a crescendo of pure bliss. My breath hitches and my whole body trembles in anticipation of the impending release.
"Come for me, Brigid," he commands.
And I do, waves of ecstasy crashing over me as Callen wrings every last drop of pleasure from my body.
I’m still shaking from my climax when I feel light kisses trailing up my thighs, over my ass, and up my back. Callen brushes the hair away from my face and kisses me lightly on my forehead.
“You should get some sleep.”
I nod, the after effects of the orgasm and the rich food and wine making me sleepy.
Callen pulls a thick, white duvet over my naked body, and I murmur my thanks to him, then hear the door lock shut as he leaves.