Chapter 11 Veronica
VERONICA
After the chaos I’d experienced, the bed felt amazing.
How had I been shopping in a bookstore just the previous night?
My life had been pretty simple up until then.
Simple was relative, I supposed. Being a middling magical student at one of the preeminent magical academies in America, while also being a mystical shapeshifter, was probably not what most humans would call simple.
But in my world that was exactly what I’d been.
There were thousands of people like me in this state alone.
I was nothing special. Another cog in the wheel of life.
I had hopes and dreams, sure, but I’d planned on an average life.
Never in my wildest dreams—or nightmares—would I have believed I’d be on the run for murder and hunted by horrifying monsters at every turn.
I also never would have thought I’d be lying less than two feet away from a gruff, sexy private investigator. A man who was intimidating as hell, but was doing his best to help me. Hell, he was putting his own life on the line, and I had no idea if I would ever be able to thank him.
I thought of the feel of his hand on my shoulder, the rough strength of his fingers as they took my arm. The last thing I thought before fully drifting off was the way I’d caught him looking at me a few times. Had that been desire I’d seen in his eyes?
Sleep claimed me like a curtain falling across my subconscious and dragging me blissfully into darkness.
Dreams played across my mind, all disorganized, none of it making any sense.
Like a strobe light, images flashed one after another.
Wendy laughing. Balthazar pointing out a mistake.
The bookstore. Virgil smirking at me from across the room.
Blood. The angry face of an instructor. Declan holding a hand out to bring me inside.
Over and over, they played across my mind with no coherent narrative.
My eyes snapped open when I felt pressure on my hip. I blinked, trying to throw off the dregs of sleep.
What? I thought groggily.
A hand. That’s what it was. A hand on my hip, the fingers slowly tracing along my ass and thigh. Whose…?
Declan.
My first instinct was to pull away, to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, but I lay still.
He dragged his fingertips across my skin, over my panties, and across my leg.
A pleasant shiver trickled across my body, sending gooseflesh erupting along my arms. Building up every ounce of courage I had, I pushed myself backward, toward him.
To my surprise, the pillow wall I’d made was gone.
Digging his fingers into the crease of my hip, he pulled me even closer until I was pressed right against him.
My breath came in tiny gasps of exhilaration.
I wanted him. Whether it was the adrenaline of the day or something more causing this desire that burned through me, I didn’t know, but I needed a release.
I wanted to push away all the awful thoughts and experiences of the past twelve hours and throw caution to the wind.
I imagined him on his back, naked, his throbbing cock jutting into the air.
I pictured myself slowly lowering my dripping wet pussy onto him, impaling myself on his shaft.
My clit tingled pleasantly, and it was all I could do not to clench my thighs for some friction.
I was damn near dripping when he rolled me over roughly.
I gasped, and looked into his eyes. There was no mistaking it now.
I knew that look. Hunger. Need. Desire. I could feel his rigid dick pressing through his pants into my thigh.
My heart shuddered, playing a staccato beat against my ribs, threatening to cease all operation the moment he leaned down and placed his lips against my throat.
I sucked in a breath as his tongue played against the soft flesh above my collarbone, his left hand gliding up across my stomach until it crested my ribs and clasped onto my breast, squeezing gently through my shirt.
I sighed in pleasure as he ran his thumb across my already hard nipple.
Despite my worries and hesitation, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close, reveling in the incredible musculature of his body.
Thick ropes of muscle twisted against my fingers as he climbed on top of me, bringing his lips to mine.
He kissed me long and hard, his tongue probing my mouth hungrily, and I opened my lips and gladly accepted him.
My pussy fucking ached for him, wanting to be filled.
Before I could stop myself, I grabbed the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to undress him. I wanted his skin against mine, wanted to feel the heat of his body, the tickle of his chest hair across my nipples.
Taking my lead, he grasped the collar of my T-shirt and ripped it.
I yelped in surprise as the fabric tore in two, revealing my naked breasts.
An instant later, his mouth was on my left nipple, his tongue circling gently and teeth nipping.
I moaned, my pussy dripping wet, and thrust my hips up against him.
“Do you like that?” he whispered against my skin.
“Uh, huh,” I moaned.
“And this?” Then he bit my nipple.
I sucked in a breath, the pleasure and pain mixing deliciously.
I gasped, running my hands through his hair as he continued sucking my nipples, giving his attention to each one in turn. “Fuck me, Declan.”
He rose and tugged his pants down his thigh, looking at me with fiery hunger I could barely believe. His hard cock sprang out. I licked my lips at the sight of it, wondering what it would taste like as it slid across my tongue.
Reaching down, he tore my panties away, and I heard the fabric ripping.
I’d never seen something so fucking hot in my life.
He tossed it away and nudged my legs apart with his knee.
My body trembled, every nerve ready and willing to accept what he wanted to offer.
My hips thrust forward and back, moving of their own volition.
“Please,” I whimpered, looking up at him. “Declan, please. I want you.”
Declan grinned down at me, pulled his hips back, then slammed forward with savage effort—
I sucked in a breath, my eyes snapping open. I was in bed, coated in sweat, my hand working feverishly at my clit. I froze, confused and disoriented. The light coming through the window was low and dark orange, like the light of early dusk, rather than midday.
Heaving a breath, I flopped over onto my back, and pulled my hand away.
What the FUCK was that? I thought, basically screaming the words in my mind.
Realizing where I was, and what I’d been dreaming about, I snapped my head around to see if Declan was watching me.
I found nothing but rumpled sheets and a dented pillow.
“Oh, thank god,” I muttered, putting a hand to my face. I couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than for him to have caught me fingering myself and moaning his name in my sleep.
Catching my breath, I took stock of what had happened.
The dream had been so incredibly vivid that I was still a little worried that the scene may have perhaps played out in real life, but that worry faded when I realized my vagina most definitely didn’t feel like it had been pounded by the giant cock I’d seen in my dreams. And I would definitely feel it, since nothing had that didn’t run on batteries had been inside me since before I’d joined Freedman Academy.
My sexual frustration had been building up for months, and it was probably perfectly natural to have had a fantasy about the hot guy I was (non-sexually) sharing a bed with.
Swinging my feet out of bed and onto the floor, I sat up and rubbed my face.
It had been a long time since a person had touched me the way I had been touched in my dream.
I’d only ever had one serious relationship in my life.
Sophie had caught my eye not long before I’d finally learned to shift.
We’d dated for nearly two years before her parents had forced her to end the relationship.
For shifters, they’d still been a bit backward and old-fashioned, not wanting their daughter to date a witch.
Since then, I’d had a few very casual encounters with men and women, but none had amounted to more than a fling.
After The Scourge had burned its way through my pack, I’d given up on sex and romance, choosing instead to focus on studying and honing my gifts.
Once Balthazar Freedman had recruited me to his academy, I’d focused solely on learning and mastering my magical powers.
Clearly, all I’d done was stifle my natural sexual desires.
Desires that Declan had brought out in full force.
Declan.
I turned, jerking my head around to check the room, looking for him.
“Declan?” I called softly. “Are you there?”
The place was small. Even without yelling, there was no way he wouldn’t have heard me if he was there. Standing, I walked to the door, but paused when I saw a white rectangle of paper taped to the doorframe, my name written in pen across it.
Pulling it off and unfolding it, I found a short letter, written in the same handwriting as my name on the outside:
Veronica,
I’m meeting a contact. I think they’ll be able to help us. I should be back in a few hours. Make yourself at home until I get back. There’s some stuff in the fridge if you want to make food. See you soon.
—Declan
I stared at the letter, reading it several times before understanding exactly what was being said, and once it sank in, I wrinkled my nose in disgust and crumpled the paper into my fist.
“Well, screw that,” I hissed to myself.
If he thought I was going to hang around here, while the big strong man went out to do the work, he was mistaken. He’d already said the people looking for me had tracked me via the device hidden in my clothing, which meant it was probably safe for me to go out as long as I was careful.