Chapter 19
Maeve
“I DIDN’T KNOW THIS WAS a masquerade.” Alina draws her fingertips across the glittering silver mask she selected. “How fun.”
“That’s not the word I’d use,” Raelan grumbles as he steps into the bar behind us, wearing a simple blue mask that matches Alina’s hair.
“That’s because you’re a grouch who doesn’t know how to have fun,” Lyra quips. She pokes him in the shoulder, and he lets out a low growl, like his dragon is deciding whether to nip Lyra’s fingers off or not.
This draws a small smile from Poppy, who’s keeping close to our group, as if the crowded bar is making her want to retreat into her shell or vanish into a glittering puff of smoke.
“What do you all want to drink?” I ask. “Lyra and I will grab the drinks.”
“I didn’t volunteer for that,” Lyra grumbles.
“White wine,” Alina says.
“I’ll have the same,” Raelan adds.
I’m not surprised. Those two are so attached at the hip, it sometimes feels like they’re one person instead of two. But I guess that’s what a mate bond does.
“How about you, Pops?”
“Um . . .” Poppy glances around. “I think I’ll just have water. Or maybe a peppermint tea.”
“Tea?” Lyra puts her hands on Poppy’s shoulders. “Poppy Waverly, you do know we’re at a party, right?”
“You’ll be thanking her when she’s the one dragging your drunk ass home,” Raelan says.
In response, Lyra calls a flickering flame into her palm, her magic much more controlled than it was a couple years ago. “You look a little cold, dragon. Want me to heat you up?”
Before she can set something on fire and get us kicked out, I smother her flame with my hand, then loop my arm through her elbow and tug her away.
The bar is crowded, with so many glittering masks and smiling mouths that it’s a little dizzying.
But we make our way through the crush of bodies toward the bar.
And when the crowd parts and we step free of the chaos, I stop midstride.
Because the man standing at the bar, lips locked with a woman in a skimpy yellow dress, is . . .
Severin. He’s here.
As soon as I see him, he pulls away from her—and meets my eyes.
And I know for sure now that it’s him. I’d know those eyes anywhere.
My teeth clench, and heat builds in my low belly.
That’s how he wants it to be? I think, still holding his startled gaze. Then two can play at that game.
I waltz right up to the bar, brushing his arm as I reach out to flag the barkeep down. It’s a young guy, mid-twenties by the look of him, and I give him a smile as he approaches to take our order.
“Two white wines, a peppermint tea, and . . .” I glance at Severin’s drink: whiskey. “And a whiskey. Lyra, what do you want?”
“Mead,” she says, then shrugs when I toss her a look. “What? I like it.”
I turn my back on Severin, but from how close I am, I can smell his cologne. And I can tell I’ve caught his attention, from the stilted conversation he’s struggling to have with the woman and the tension rolling off him in waves. Lyra hasn’t seemed to notice who he is yet, which is good.
This means I can play with him without anyone realizing what I’m doing.
“Here you go, ladies,” the barkeep says.
“Thank you.” I lean forward to take the tray of drinks and relish the blush on the man’s cheeks when he gets a glimpse down the neckline of my dress. Beside me, Severin clears his throat. I pretend not to hear it.
After Lyra grabs her mug of ale from the tray, we start back across the crowded bar—and I specifically don’t look at Severin as I go.
But I can feel his gaze on me, like fire bathing me in heat.
I’m glad I picked this dress to wear tonight; it’s thin and tight, and I know it makes my ass look amazing.
We find Alina, Raelan, and Poppy in a corner, standing at a tall table dusted in gold glitter. “Two white wines, one peppermint tea.” I pass the drinks out, then hand the tray to a waiter who’s walking past. Picking up my glass of whiskey, I hold it aloft. “Blessed Samhain.”
“Blessed Samhain!” they all echo back at me.
The first sip of whiskey burns, but it lights my nerves on fire in a pleasant tingly way. And I feel like this is exactly what I need tonight. Severin being here—and it being a masquerade—just makes it that much better.
The musicians finish their song, then shift to play a new one, this one lower and slower, prompting a wave of couples to take to the dance floor.
“Dance with me,” Alina tells Raelan. She presses a deep kiss to his mouth, then grabs his hand and drags him away from our table, leaving me, Poppy, and Lyra standing there. I turn to watch them go, then flick a gaze at Severin across the dimly lit room.
And he’s staring directly at me, even as his companion is saying something, her hand on his arm, her body language clearly communicating that she’d like for him to fuck her tonight.
But his cock is mine to fuck. I thought I’d already made that clear. And if he doesn’t know that yet, he’s going to very soon.
I lift my glass of whiskey and sip at it slowly, making sure he’s watching.
Then someone steps in front of me, cutting off my line of sight.
“Blessed Samhain,” he says.
My gaze flicks over him in a quick assessment: He looks like a human, but he’s tall, with strong arms that probably do hard labor all day. And his face is cute in a boyish sort of way. Definitely not my type, but he’s exactly what I need right now.
“Blessed Samhain,” I echo back, blinking my eyes slowly and popping one hip.
He follows the movement, then swallows hard.
Got you.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks.
Behind me, Lyra grumbles, “Goddess, I swear, every time . . .”
One of my shoulders lifts in a shrug. “I suppose.” With one final sip, I set my whiskey glass down, then offer the stranger my hand. And the moment he takes it, I feel Severin’s eyes on us again, watching as the man leads me onto the dance floor.
He puts his hands on my waist, and I step close to him, making him draw a breath as I press my body against his. The scent of fresh-cut wood clings to him. A carpenter, maybe.
“So,” he says, sounding a bit more nervous now as we begin to sway, my body brushing his with each small movement. “Are you a . . . a witch?”
I tip my head back and meet his nervous eyes through his yellow mask. “What gave it away?”
“The hair.” His smile is sweet and much too innocent for me. “Do all witches have colorful hair?”
“Most, but not all.” In my periphery, I see Severin watching, standing straight and still beside the bar. Slowly, I trail one hand down the stranger’s chest. “Our hair color reflects our magical affinity.”
“Wh-what’s yours?”
My lips pull up into a smile. “Storm magic.”
“Wow.” He takes my hand and twirls me. When he pulls me back in, he adds, “Sounds scary.”
“It can be. That’s why you should never get on my bad side.”
He lets out a small laugh, and it sounds at least somewhat uncertain. “Thanks for the warning. I’m Will, by the way.”
“Maeve,” I say.
“Pretty name for a pretty witch.” His cheeks dimple this time when he smiles.
Will spins me again, but this time, different hands grab me mid-twirl.
They’re solid. Cold. Possessive.
I know who it is without needing to look up and meet his midnight eyes. And I know that my plan worked exactly the way I intended it to.
As one of his hands finds my waist and the other takes my hand, I smile.
“H-hey,” Will protests, but Severin doesn’t say anything, just spins me off in a different direction, moving us deeper into the crowd of swaying dancers. I catch sight of Alina and Raelan, and she glances over to give me a curious look, but then Raelan twirls her away.
“It’s quite presumptuous of you to assume I want to dance with you,” I say, moving a bit closer to Severin, feeling his firm chest against mine.
“Not at all.” His tone is low, sharp.
“No? Why not?”
“Because your eyes have been telling a different story since you walked in here.” He tips his head, and I finally look up to meet his gaze.
He’s wearing a simple black mask, and his high-collared jacket and crisp white cravat give him an old-world feel that might look ridiculous on anyone who isn’t Severin.
But on him, it all looks toe-curlingly sexy.
“What story is that?”
His mouth doesn’t lift into a smile. Stern faced, he says, “That you had every intention of torturing me until I finally came over to do something about it.”
My lips pull up, and Severin draws a breath when I lift onto my toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ve not even begun to torture you yet, Professor.”
His fingers tighten around my waist, and his length twitches against me where our bodies are pressed together. In response, my panties get wet.
“But we can start now if you’d like,” I whisper.
I slip one of my hands between our bodies, gliding my palm along his shaft, making him harden at my touch.
A distinct hiss tickles my ear, and he snaps, “We’re in public, Miss Vandermere.”
“So?” I press my hips into his, grinding against him along with the slow rhythm of the musicians’ song. It makes him suppress a groan.
He meets my eyes, and for one moment, I get lost in how beautifully dark they are. Then his gaze flicks to my lips, and a breath later, his mouth is on mine.
And he’s none too coy about it, whether we’re in public or not.
Suddenly, I’m very grateful for these masks. I’m not sure he’d have kissed me like this without them—anonymity and all.
He tastes like whiskey, and I get lost in the sensation of his mouth moving against mine, his hands on my waist, his chest firm beneath my hand. I trail my fingers up his body to wrap them around the back of his neck. Every part of me feels on fire.
I’ve kissed more people than I can count—boys and girls alike. But no kiss has ever made me feel like this. There’s something about Severin that’s . . . different. Dangerous and tempting and too delicious to resist.
Beneath my skin, my magic flares up, and a spark zaps us both, making Severin pull abruptly away from the kiss.
“Sorry,” I whisper, fingers trailing through the dark hair at the nape of his neck. “My magic likes you.”
“Why?” He pulls back slightly, enough for me to look into his eyes.
And I take a long moment to consider his question.
Why?
The past few years I’ve been at Coven Crest, I haven’t been interested in anyone.
No one who caught my attention ever kept it, and eventually, I stopped being interested at all.
But when I saw Severin in our history lecture hall that day, it was like a candelabra flickering to life—gently at first, but the flames have only been burning brighter and brighter ever since.
But that still doesn’t answer his question.
Why?
He’s handsome, yes—devastatingly so. But there are lots of good-looking people at the academy, in Wysteria, everywhere.
And his voice, velvety but with a rough undertone, gives me goose bumps, but that isn’t it either.
It’s like something deep inside me is reaching out to him, wanting to draw him close, not wanting to let him go.
It feels like my magic wants him, and in turn, it makes me want him. But I’m still not sure why.
So I lift one shoulder in a shrug and tell him, “It’s a mystery.”
His lips twitch up in one corner. “I do like mysteries.”
“Then maybe you can solve this one.” As the song comes to an end, I lift onto my toes and kiss him again. When I pull away, I whisper into his ear, “Take me somewhere.”
His body goes taut against mine.
I meet his eyes through his mask, and there’s a war within them. I can almost see his mind working, puzzling over this new problem I just presented to him.
And I wonder if he’s going to turn me down, to tell me no. The thought makes me want to send a lightning storm raging through the building.
But he eventually says, “Are you sure?”
My heart gallops. I tighten my hold on the back of his neck. “Perfectly.”