Chapter 18
The two weeks go by in agony. I’m sitting in the Library, behind the Service Desk, and I’m supposed to be using this time to study, but I just can’t seem to stop wasting it. I’m either obsessing about tonight’s ritual or the fact I still haven”t apologized to Raven.
I glance at my phone, finding no new messages. I let out a sigh. It occurs to me that I could just go do it right this instance, but then that worry starts gnawing at me — that she”ll say something about what transpired between us that day in the Junkyard, that questions will ensue and that things will become even more complicated than they were.
That look that Alaric threw me echoes through my mind again, making me shake my head in an effort to get it out.
It draws my attention, when another group of students walks into the Library, talking in hushed, excited voices.
“Now they’re saying it was Nature Magic,” one of the guys says.
I don’t even have to guess what they’re talking about. It’s what everyone seems to be talking about these days — the three dead bodies found a week ago, no bite marks or puncture wounds to be found, yet completely drained of blood. It seems to be the stuff of great mystery.
“I don’t know,” one of the girls replies. “I find it suspicious, how the Authority can’t seem to make up their minds.”
They walk past me, leaving this hollow feeling in my gut. That’s how it always goes with people. Either you hurt them or they hurt you. Raven and Alaric are better off without me anyway.
Alright, I tell myself, back to studying.
I take a deep breath and force myself to fix my eyes on the text in front of me.
Types of magic, that’s the section I’m currently on. I know most of this shit already, but I really need to brush up on my knowledge of Divine.
The next thing I know, I’m typing ‘Jericho Bane’ into the browser on my phone, clicking on every result that pops up, none of which are new to me and none of which say anything about the man himself. There are so many things I feel I just need to know.
What kind of magic is it, that’s allowing him to shift his eyes like that?
How can he be so familiar and so opaque to me all at once?
Or, more importantly… Why oh why am I letting this spin out of control like this?
Letting out a groan, I close the tab and try to go back to my book.
Now those words are ringing in my head again. “I said focus on my voice.” I keep replaying them, basking in their echoes like some love-sick little puppy.
Gross.
Normally, when I take a step back to see what I’m doing, it’s enough to make me stop. This time, I can’t seem to stop the memories from flooding my senses — seemingly countless stored images of his muscles flexing, of him lifting that guy off the ground, of the ironclad grip of his arm around my waist.
It leaves me breathless and makes this frustrating longing tug at my navel, whenever I think about how easily he could toss me around regardless of my weight. I feel myself slipping into playing out yet another fantasy.
It all scares me, probably because I know I’ll be seeing him tonight, but the fact that it scares me makes me angry.
I use the anger. I tell myself I seem to be very far from his type. And even if I weren”t, I tell myself he’d be terrible in bed, an asshole such as himself. Not just because he’s selfish, but because he’s so hot — guys like him have a tendency of not thinking they have to work for it.
I tell myself it’s because of these changes I’m experiencing that I have these feelings in the first place. The facts only seem to prove my point. I mean, I don’t even like the guy. Then I start making breakthroughs with my powers, he happens to be there and, all of a sudden, I’m sleeping curled up in his jacket, craving his scent even while still inhaling it?
Going from human to shifter — if that’s not something that’ll mess with your head, I don’t know what is.
I just need to show up tonight, make sure I’m aware of how messed-up all this can be, and get the ritual over with. I need to. If I don’t, then I really don’t stand a chance of passing the first-term exam. With that, I’m guaranteeing an entire year of my life going down the drain.
Thank my lucky stars it’s advised that you do these rituals in silence. Maybe I won’t even have to look at the guy.
***
As soon as I start approaching the spot where he found me last time, I see there’s something off. It’s too bright considering it’s dusk out here. But even before I make my way through the trees and onto the little clearing in front of the river, I hear the crackling.
Fire. He’s lit a fire.
I spot him lying on the ground near the fire, propped on his elbow and typing away on his phone. He looks up at me without lifting his head and motions for me to get settled in.
I nod, my lips curling into a smile. Silence. We actually will be doing this in silence. It’s so hot, the way he has one leg bent at the knee and the way his jacket is straining over his muscles, but at least I won’t have his voice to worry about.
I take a seat to his right, making sure to put some distance between us, and I start preparing the stuff for the ritual.
I stop hearing the typing. There’s a long moment of silence before this soft clicking sound makes me throw a glance at him only to see he’s playing with some silver lighter I’ve never seen him with before.
Focus, Anna.
I get the bowl out of my bag and fill it with water. It’s only when I reach for the candles that I realize I won’t be needing them.
He’s actually prepared for this. Not only do I have the stars reflecting off the water, I have the roaring fire casting its light.
Good, this should be good.
Just as I get myself comfortable and fix my eyes on the water, the soft clicking of the lighter stops and I feel something small hit my shoulder.
I frown, glancing up and down to realize he’s thrown a pebble at me.
Almost forgetting myself, I open my mouth to ask what he’s doing, but he just motions at a little bottle in front of the fire.
I quirk my eyebrow at him.
Letting out a sigh, he just motions at it again and sits straight, preparing for his watch over me.
I take the bottle and I down the liquid that tastes like metal. I did read about shifters using special concoctions to facilitate these kinds of rituals. I’m actually glad he’s brought some with him, even though I can’t feel the effect, at least not yet.
In complete silence, except for the crackling of the fire, I turn my focus back onto the surface of the water in the bowl in front of me, feeling his eyes on me.
I keep sitting there for what seems like an eternity, absolutely nothing happening.
He throws another pebble at me. When I glance up at him, the look he’s giving me makes me feel as if he can hear the wheels spinning in my head. He thinks I should just make them stop.
Easier said than done. Still, I nod and try to do as he says.
There’s another moment of silence before I hear another soft click of the lighter, the sound igniting something in me.
But I only hear the one, as if he’s forgotten himself just for a second.
I throw him a look, trying to communicate that I’d like for him to keep playing with it.
He does. Every time the lid clicks open and I hear the soft sound of the fire igniting, it seems to take me farther away to some strange yet familiar place.
My vision blurs and my head starts swimming.
Soon it becomes so nauseating, I close my eyes and start rocking back and forth to try to make it stop.
It doesn’t help.
Until I feel the touch of a hand on my left shoulder, so warm and solid, it almost instantly grounds me.
I feel him pull his hand away and retreat back to his spot, but the nausea stops, and so does the rocking.
I open my eyes, fixing them on the bowl again.
On the other side of the surface of the water, there’s the entire universe, made up of all the people I’ve ever known, all the people I’ll never get to meet, all the things I’ve seen and all the ones that have left their mark.
The book.
The eyes.
The symbol.
A shiver runs down my spine. The goddamn symbol. Why do I have a feeling something starts awakening in me every time I recall the symbol?
I don’t know why, but I get up.
At that very moment, the universe in front of me seems to get sucked into a hole, I dig my feet firmer into the ground, opening my mouth to call for help, but then…
Then there’s nothing.
***
I’m standing on my own two feet and still, it feels like floating. There’s darkness all around me, but I can feel something in its depths — breathing, watching, waiting.
For one long, long moment, there’s only silence.
Then that deep, ethereal female voice booms from everywhere around me. You need to leave this place, it says. The underlying threat shakes me to my very core.
I gulp, deciding not to do as it says. Not now, when I’m closer than I’ve ever been. Nervously, I peer deeper into the darkness, but find nothing there.
And I know it won’t answer — it never answers, but still I say, my voice coming out all choked-up, “Alright, I’ll leave.” I pause before I add, “Just show yourself first.”
I’m not talking to you, she says coldly.
For a second, it renders me speechless, that I actually got an answer. Then I find myself taking a few hesitant steps forward. There’s this growl that booms from the darkness, but I keep walking until I see these barely visible shapes.
Bars.
It feels like a punch in the gut that knocks the air out of my lungs. I stop, and something nudges me to glance down and then up. There’s no visible end to them, as if I’ve found myself in boundless space.
The growling turns louder and more menacing, making me snap out of it. I take a deep breath before I do it. “Why won’t you talk to me?” I ask with determination in my voice, making her go quiet.
To my surprise, she lets out a low, mocking laugh. Why won’t I talk to you, she echoes. Alright. Let’s talk.
Fuck yes.
Tell me, she says before I can even open my mouth. Who are you?
The question makes me frown. “Anna.”
The silence makes it clear to me I haven’t gotten the answer right. “Um, Librarian at Grimm Academy.”
I only get more silence. “A shifter?”
She laughs again. No, you’re not.
The words make me grit my teeth and I find myself trying to get closer to the bars, but they just recede further into the darkness. “Well,” I say with angry exasperation, “I won’t be until you choose to stop this charade and show me your face.”
I can show you my face, she says simply, and it knocks the air out of my lungs all over again, when I see the bars get closer and a silhouette becomes visible behind them. In silent wonder, I watch the animal appear, having to look way way up to meet its glowing, narrowed eyes. The largest, most dangerous looking wolf I’ve ever seen, with eyes of burning ice and a smirk on its face.
Showing my face to you won’t help, she says mockingly, because you want to stay blind. You’re not ready for any of the things that will happen to you. And I’m way too old to be into chit-chat. I suggest you leave me alone.
She turns to saunter back into the shadows, leaving me fuming. “You know,” I yell after her, “I think I preferred it when you didn’t talk to me.”
She lets out a low chuckle. Your wish is my command. This, she says as she stops for a second, not turning back to look at me, is so you’ll learn your place.
“What is?” I demand, fear worming its way into my voice.
Everything turns pitch black and I remain standing there, the darkness turning more and more unsettling with each second.
I start looking around and seeing more nothing.
“Hey,” I yell out, my fear only growing when I hear the desperation in my voice, “let me out.”
Nothing happens. Except, I could fucking swear that the darkness grew even more absolute.
There’s this tightness in my chest as my mind starts buzzing like crazy. Am I stuck here?
No no no.
The tightness intensifies. It travels up to my throat.
My eyes rounding in fear, I start gasping for air, one hand flying to my neck and one blindly trying to find something to grab onto.
***
What makes me come to, it’s like a shock that goes through my entire body.
“Novak,” I hear a voice boom with an urgency that almost snaps me out of it.
But there’s this surge of power, sparking like electricity, that’s rushing through my veins and keeping me standing on my feet, looking high up at the sky even though all my muscles are limp.
The starry night sky, that’s what I’m staring at, with rounded eyes and pounding heart, as I let the violent current keep going through me.
I can do nothing but keep staring, my mind buzzing trying to figure out whether this is what it could feel like, a moment before you die.
It feels like an eternity and I wonder if it’ll ever stop because it hurts, but then the current slows down, and I start to breathe again — heavily, my muscles tensing as my body starts slumping to the ground.
Two strong hands catch me midfall, hooking themselves under my armpits as my head falls to my chest. Slowly, they start lowering me onto the ground. I let my wobbly legs bend in the knees until I’m kneeling, this strange sensation drawing my eyes to the palms I’ve pressed against the ground at my sides.
There are sparks shooting off the tips of my fingers.
My eyes rounding, I move to get up, but my body won’t let me. I’m tense and aching all over.
Just a moment ago, there was such fear coursing through my body. Now, I’m in the strangest haze ever.
I lift my palms to my thighs, slowly flexing my fingers and feeling the current rushing through them.
“Come on,” the voice urges me just as a hand holding a bottle of water appears in my line of sight. “There’ll be time for that later.”
I stop flexing my fingers, but I don’t reach for the bottle. I don’t even look up. I just lazily shake my head, transfixed by the sparks.
I know it in a way that requires no thinking. My animal rejected me. Scorpio didn’t.
Still… This is what I get?
Angrily, I try to make the sparks bigger, but they stay just as they were.
I try again, gritting my teeth and balling my hands into fists when I fail.
“Careful, Novak,” I hear the voice warn me. “It’s a gift from the constellations. You don’t want to appear ungrateful.”
The voice helps me tear my eyes away from my hands, finding him crouching close by, looking at me intently with his forearms resting on his knees and that glow radiating off his skin again.
For a moment, I just stare at him — forgetting all about the sparks, not thinking at all, just… feeling.
It’s so hard at first, to untangle what I feel. That’s how all-encompassing it is.
As I keep looking, it all narrows down into a single thought.
This man is mine.
And what I need more than anything else right now is to show him that he is.
Without a conscious decision, I lower my palms to the ground and start slowly crawling over to him, watching his eyes narrow at me.
Until I get really close and see them round, his hand flying back to maintain balance as he lowers himself to the ground so he’s propped on his elbows. I feel his body tense up as I come to straddle him and wrap my arms around his torso, resting my cheek on his to whisper, “What is this, what I’m feeling?”
It makes me frown, when he doesn’t relax. But he doesn’t try to get me off either. A long moment goes by before his low, tense mumbling reaches me. “A lot of power. Bottled up for too long. It’ll pass.”
The mumbling makes my frown grow deeper, but the voice still soothes me like I knew it would. He’s so hot and hard under me, it makes the coil in the pit of my stomach tighten with a growing need. I dip my head to catch a whiff of his neck, that intoxicating scent of his making me close my eyes.
I drag my nose up his skin and give the spot right under his earlobe a slow lick.
His muscles clenching even harder, he grits out a low grumble.
He doesn’t move to stop me and now there’s wet heat pooling between my legs. I start trailing the length of his jawline with soft little bites.
The next thing I know, his arm is clamping around my back and I’m being flipped over, finding myself lying on the ground. He’s braced on his forearms, his hips nestling between my legs and his hands pinning my wrists to my sides.
There’s a violent flutter in my stomach when I look into the eyes hovering above mine. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he warns as he moves to pull away.
I wrap my legs around him to stop him.
He stills, the scowl on his face making me let out a muffled, playful laugh. I drag my teeth over my bottom lip, his eyes darting to my mouth and fixing there.
“Novak,” he grumbles in yet another warning, but his eyes don’t leave my lips.
I don’t say anything. I just arch my spine and buck my hips, my breath catching when I rub against him and feel how hard he is.
I hear him let out a groan before he buries his face in my neck, inhaling deeply.
Then, abruptly, his grip on my wrists loosens and he starts pulling back. It makes me frown, but the very next second, I feel his hands grab onto my waist as he lowers his nose to my neck again, hungrily dragging it down my body.
I close my eyes, my lips parting and my fingers digging into the ground as the heat between my legs intensifies. He only stops when he reaches my stomach, taking the flesh between his teeth and pulling at it in a way that makes me let out a shaky breath, the coil in my stomach winding unbearably tight.
I grumble.
Then there’s this sharp, impatient tugging at both sides of my hips, followed by fabric gliding down my legs. The next thing I know, the cold winter air is nipping at my skin, his arms are wrapping around my legs and I’m feeling those same bites on my inner thighs, one then the other. They travel higher and higher, making the anticipation grow until my core is throbbing with helpless desire.
My hands fly to his head, my fingers threading through his hair and guiding him where I need him most.
It makes me let out a loud moan, when I finally feel his mouth on me. He groans, his fingers digging into my thighs as his tongue buries into my aching flesh.
The pressure is too much. I lift my head off the ground, I squirm and I grumble, and he almost instantly eases it, the movements of his tongue becoming more languid.
Content, I throw my head back and look up at the stars, my moaning and the grinding of my core against his face quickly becoming more and more desperate, until I feel I can no longer bear the torture.
Just as I move to pull him up, needing him inside me, he grips me tighter and does this thing with his mouth that makes me cry out, all my muscles clenching just before the coil within me finally snaps, sending shocks of pleasure through my body as the stars explode high above me.
I keep lying on the ground, breathless, pounding and tingling, feeling all the tension inside me dispersing, until I sense him pulling back and I grab onto his waistband, needing more of him.
He just removes my hand, pushes himself off the ground, turns his back to me and says, almost too quietly for me to hear, “Now get dressed.”
Still in a haze, I get up and do as he says, watching him wipe his mouth with his hand with this tension in his entire body.
It makes my eyebrows pull down, when he turns to face me again without looking me in the eye. It takes me even more by surprise, when he bends, wraps an arm around my waist and hoists me off the ground in one determined move.
“Hey,” I protest, starting to finally come back to my senses when he starts walking with me thrown over his shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?” I demand as I start struggling to get down.
I don’t just fail. I don’t even manage to mess with his steady, determined pace. “You’ve completed your first ritual,” he says in a tense voice, “you’re worn out and you need sleep.”
“Let me down,” I order.
“Will not,” comes the reply.
It’s when the humiliation really kicks in that I get fuming. I muster all my strength, throw my leg back and slam my knee into his chest. Though it doesn’t seem to hurt him, this does surprise him enough to drop me.
I stumble back, but I keep myself on my feet, seeing him throw me a scowl. He takes a step closer, but I lift a warning finger.
“Just… Get away from me,” I tell him, I turn on my heel and run away.