Chapter 47 Raven
Raven
Ipicked up yet another book of spells from the stack on the table in front of me and huffed out a sigh. This was the first time Maverick had let me out of his sight in three days. We’d spent most of the three days in bed.
I’d gone from sweet and innocent to a literal sex goddess. A small smirk escaped as I thought about how he’d done a thing with his fingers last night that had made me scream so loud it was a wonder the entire realm hadn’t heard.
The sound of a muffled curse made me look up to see Glynda stumbling under the weight of yet more books.
“I wish you’d be more specific about what you need this spell to do,” she grumbled. “Locator spells are a dime a dozen, but they all have different purposes. I mean, if you need a spell to find a lost key, then great, but some additional information would be helpful!”
I winced. The goddess knew I trusted Glynda, but equally, I didn’t want to drag her into my mess. Searching for a lost vampire prince could easily turn into a monumental disaster.
How did I know this?
Because disaster was my middle name.
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” I quipped.
Glynda rolled her eyes and huffed irritably. “Okay, so this is all the books on locator spells I could find. If the spell you need isn’t in any of them, you’re shit out of luck.”
Four hours later, I concluded I was, indeed, shit out of luck. Despite combing through every book in the library, or so it felt, I couldn’t find a spell that would locate a person potentially several continents away.
Because these were academy textbooks, they mostly contained simple spells, such as how to locate a lost sock or trigger a missing phone to buzz loudly. Not exactly what I needed.
“Are there any other spell encyclopedias?”
Glynda pushed the books aside and frowned.
“Third-year witches usually have access to their family’s grimoire, but anyone unconnected by blood to the grimoire wouldn’t be able to use it.
” She chewed her lip for a moment. “Witch and mage faculty members likely keep their spell books locked in their individual offices. Montgomery has his own personal library.” Glynda glanced around to check no other students were listening.
“He’s rumored to have a collection of Dark Arts texts. ”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
Glynda nodded.
The Mage Council banned the use of black magic decades ago because of how volatile and addictive it was.
Witches and mages who dabbled in dark magic almost always fell into a spiral of addiction and death.
Death magic ate away your soul until there was nothing left.
Some said all black magic originated in the hell realm, and the witches who used it ended up trapped there for all eternity.
I preferred not to think about such things.
“Why would he want books like that?”
“They’re very collectible and worth a fortune, so maybe he keeps them as an investment?
” She shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that Montgomery has a ton of high-level spellcasting texts, so if the spell you need is a tier five or above, it’s likely in one of those books. ”
My shoulders sagged in resigned disappointment. “Ugh. Not helpful. We both know books like that will be locked away behind a ton of wards.”
“Yep.” She picked up a stack of books to return them to their rightful places on the shelves.
My friend was just too organized for her own good.
I decided that one day, I would be a witch who craved order in her life.
The sort of witch who arranged books in alphabetical order rather than leaving them all over her room in random places.
I chewed my pen while thinking. If I couldn’t find a spellbook, then maybe I needed to ask a more powerful witch – or mage – for advice. Good job I knew a mage who might agree to help.
“No.” Alaric shoved past me before I could get a word out. He reached for a bowl of oatmeal and headed toward the coffee machine. I abandoned my tray and scurried after him. Coffee seemed like a good idea. The goddess knew I needed some caffeine after the terrible night’s sleep I’d endured.
“You’re not giving me a chance to explain.” Stupid, arrogant mage.
“Not interested.” He sneered at me over his shoulder as the coffee machine spat out a double-shot caramel latte. Yum. “You stink of… wet dog.”
A loud burst of feminine laughter broke through my coffee dream.
“What?”
“Have you been rolling around with animals in the forest? It sure smells like it.” He shoved me back, causing me to stumble in surprise.
“Of course she stinks,” Demelza snorted.
“That’s what happens when you fuck a bear.
” The witch’s lip curled up as her hand slid around Alar-dick’s bicep.
I frowned in confusion while trying not to wince at the agonizing pain in my chest. A deep furrow appeared between Alaric’s eyes, and a vein throbbed in his temple.
I prayed to the goddess his mean-spirited attitude was as painful for him as it was for me.
“Soul-bonds are sacred,” I pointed out, refusing to let Demelza derail me from my quest. “Are you suggesting the goddess made a mistake? Pretty sure goddesses know what they’re doing, but feel free to call her out on this.” I arched an eyebrow and waited for Demelza to react.
Unsurprisingly, she shut right up. Maligning all-powerful deities was a seriously bad idea. Unless you felt like being smote into a pile of ash.
“He’s right. You reek of shitty bear.”
“Better than reeking of jealousy,” I said with a smile.
“Yep, she’s jealous,” Kenji confirmed from his spot on a nearby table, where he’d blinked into view. The witch already sitting there cursed when my familiar swiped a sausage from her plate, but she knew better than to hurt him. Familiars were off-limits, no matter what they did.
Which was just as well, given my familiar was on a one-kitsune crime spree.
Kenji had called it, as usual. Demelza’s aura glowed a lurid shade of green that clashed horribly with her pink lipstick. I debated whether I should let her know her jealousy had messed up her style aesthetic but decided against drawing attention to my talent.
“Ugh, please drop dead, you stupid bear-fucker,” my nemesis muttered before turning to Alaric. “I’ll see you at the party later,” she purred. The tether in my chest burned as I pictured Demelza and Alaric naked, entwined, fucking…
A chair burst into flames.
“For fuck’s sake,” Alaric grumbled before dousing it in water. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the side exit. “Can you please not burn down the fucking building for one day?”
“It’s not my fault my mentor refuses to help me!” The stupid mage got on my last nerve.
“I tried to help you! I taught you how to draw your magic back in and contain it!”
“Pretty sure you were supposed to do more than that!” I grumbled.
He leaned in, forcing me back against the wall. I hated how he used his physicality as an intimidation tactic, while also loving how much I enjoyed being dominated by the mage.
Maverick’s presence tickled via the bond. I sensed him checking to see why my emotions were rioting. Since the last thing any of us needed right now was an angry bear storming across campus, I forced myself to take a few deep, calming breaths.
Alaric was a dick.
I knew this.
He might also be my mate.
Again, no surprises there.
But even if he was another soul-bonded mate, I had boundaries. I was not obliged to accept him as my mate. And given how he treated me, why on earth would I want a mate like him when I had emotionally available, dependable, protective Maverick?
My bear was the best sort of mate. A mate who cared for me, wanted to keep me safe, and treated me like the center of his universe.
The mage didn’t deserve a mate like me.
“You know what?” I shoved him back. He barely moved a millimeter because, stars above, the mage was a veritable feast of muscles and brawn. Not that I had any business thinking about his muscles. Ugh. “Forget it. I don’t need your help.”
“Good, because I’m fucking busy.” Alaric stepped back, but I didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped to my cleavage and stayed there for way longer than was polite. He might pretend he hated me, but we both knew he wanted me.
I stormed back into the food hall, all riled up after my useless encounter with the mage. I noted that he’d left his double-shot caramel espresso and bowl of oatmeal behind, and smirked. Missing out on his morning coffee and breakfast would serve the bastard right.
Kenji hadn’t moved from his spot, but the cursing witch had left.
Unfortunately, Demelza was still holding court for her followers, a.k.a.
sycophants. The witch had recently joined one of the more prestigious covens.
With her star rising, she’d started devoting a lot of time to making the rest of us unaffiliated witches feel less than.
“I doubt any coven will take a witch mated to a shifter,” she commented in an exceptionally loud voice designed to carry across the entire room. Sure enough, anyone with functional hearing caught her slur.
Several shifters growled in annoyance, but most of the mages laughed. Bastards. I hated mages. Something about being a male witch automatically turned them all into arrogant, misogynistic, condescending assholes.
Alar-dick Vane being a prime example.
“It proves there’s something wrong with her, don’t you think?” Deciding to ignore her because I was starving, I moved over to the food counter. Demelza followed me, apparently keen to continue insulting me to my face.
“Is the fur shedding an issue?” Her concern was wholly fake. I picked up a plate of pancakes and maple syrup, adding a bowl of cut fruit to my tray as a token healthy option. Then I grabbed some crispy bacon for my familiar so he didn’t steal more food from anyone.
When I refused to engage with her bullshit, Demelza sneered and leaned in to pick her own breakfast option.
To my shock, she picked up a stack of bacon and added sausages and ham to her plate.
What was she doing? Demelza didn’t eat meat apart from the times she sucked dick.
I’d only ever seen her eat fruit for breakfast. Seeing her with a mountain of meat set alarm bells ringing. But whatever. I shrugged.
I followed her as she sashayed across the room toward her witch friends. All of them gaped in shock when she shoved a sausage into her mouth. Grease dripped down her chin, staining her white blouse as she chewed.
A rasher of bacon followed, accompanied by orgasmic moans of delight. Several witches giggled, while a few shifters seemed way too interested in hearing Demelza moan. Which was creepy.
“Goddess, what is this new fruit? It’s delicious!” The dreamy expression on Demelza’s face when she’d finally cleared everything but a few bits of gristle from her plate made me realize someone had messed with her. The poor witch thought she’d just scoffed a plate of fruit. Oh, my stars.
Kenji laughed in my mind. I spun around to see his two tails flicking back and forth. He hopped down from his table and trotted over.
“Wait for it…” he said before Demelza froze and looked down. She spotted the gristle and greasy smears. I watched as she opened her mouth and a look of absolute horror appeared.
“Did I just eat…?”
“Meat?” A wolf shifter laughed. “Baby, you wolfed that meat down. Wanna snack on my meat next?” He grabbed his crotch and thrust toward her while his friends all cackled. One of them was definitely a hyena shifter. At least I hoped so. Nobody normal laughed that manically.
“Oh my fucking stars,” she shrieked. “Why the fuck didn’t you stop me, you fucking bitches!” Demelza’s friends all looked at each other, confused.
“We assumed you felt like eating something different for once,” a witch admitted nervously.
“I can’t…” Demelza retched loudly, her face turning pale and clammy.
“You should probably go now before everyone starts sympathetic vomiting,” Kenji told me. “I’ll hang here for a bit. I have a hairball I need to hack up.”
Deciding it was best if I left, I took his advice, making sure to carry my breakfast with me.
I had no clue what had just happened, but I felt certain my kitsune was responsible.
How he’d influenced Demelza to eat meat when she had a pathological hatred for the stuff was a mystery, but I added it to my list of questions for Kenji.
Maybe one day he’d actually answer some of them.