Dakota
Mist curls at my feet like a rippling tide.
The air is still but smells of rain. All around me, the wheatfield is quiet, save for my pounding heart, the sound echoes in my eardrums. I slowly turn a three-sixty, trying to make sense of which direction I’m supposed to be heading in.
The wheatfield is set up like a garden maze, the stalks standing taller than the average five feet.
“Max?” I call out, testing the range to see if he responds.
Lately, each night, I’ve dreamt of him and wake up feeling all flustered and bothered in areas I never thought possible.
Valdine told me Max and I have become what is called Blood Bonded.
A basic principle that determines a vampire’s only way of existing.
Without my blood to sate his thirst, he’ll die.
“The Blood Bond will also heighten your emotions and pheromones. Both of yours.” Valdine had added when I’d woken up the first time after experiencing a fiery sensation stirring in my gut and two new puncture wounds in my neck.
“Max?” I call out again, starting to walk forward.
The stalks of wheat sway in a now gentle breeze, as if guiding me toward my destined partner.
I stop after several long minutes of walking and spy my professor crouched on his knees, his back to me, he’s drawing something in the dirt in front of him.
Curious, I walk up beside him and look down.
My eyes flicker in surprise. Max has drawn a portrait of me, and in the dirt of all things.
I clear my throat before speaking. “I called for you.”
“You did not need to shout my name, I heard you my little siren.” He stands and turns, offering me a crooked smile.
My insides clench at the expression on his face. “You didn’t answer back.”
“You would come to me. Our Bond is becoming stronger.” Max reaches out to caress my cheek with his cool palm. I lean against his hand, fluttering my eyelashes. “We cannot keep meeting like this.”
“But it’s better than not meeting at all,” I whisper.
His dark eyes sweep over my face and then he cups my chin and brushes a kiss against my forehead. “This is true, but I would prefer to be awake when I hear those little mewls of yours.”
My face heats up at his words. He chuckles low under his breath and plants another kiss, this time on the tip of my nose.
After learning just how much our bodies become affected in this dream-like state, we haven’t been close to doing anything remotely sexual. A fact he’s made well known; there’s a huge age gap along with being hexed, which makes being together both in our dreams and the waking world near impossible.
“Something troubles you,” his warm breath fans my face. “Tell me what it is.”
I avert my gaze, staring out at the wheat stalks before answering him. “The hex, it’s driving me crazy! I just want to be with you—”
“Even if there were not a hex,” Max starts and gently turns my face back toward his. “Having any relations with you at all will spell trouble for us.”
My brows pinch together into a frown the longer I stare into his dark gaze. “I don’t understand. Why would it be a problem?”
He sighs and bends his head to press our foreheads together. “I am your professor and there is an enormous age gap between us, my little siren.”
I can feel my pulse quicken at his words, especially the nickname he’s given me over the course of the past few months. “And interspecies don’t mix,” I add as an afterthought.
He’s made it perfectly clear with multiple reasons about why we shouldn’t be together, and yet, that doesn’t stop him from stealing a kiss or some blood from me every now and then when his patience wears thin.
“Little siren—”
“Why do you call me that?”
Max is silent for a moment. “Because your blood calls to me the way a siren lures men to a watery grave.”
I pull back to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying I’m trying to seduce you?”
He gives me another crooked smile. “Quite the opposite. You will take me to your watery grave and I will rest forever in your embrace.” When he says it like that, any word he describes is poetry to my ears. Even when I do understand the extent of what he’s saying.
“Max—”
“Shh,” he presses a slender, pale finger against my mouth to silence whatever I’d been about to say. “You’ve slept long enough and Valdine is a very impatient witch.” He lowers his hand and takes a step back, creating distance between us.
“One day, I’m going to break this hex.” The words leave my mouth but he doesn’t hear, because when I blink, I’m looking up at the ceiling in my dorm room.
Fenugreek
Calendula
Thyme
Peppermint
Amla
Sage
Ashwagandha
Sea Buckthorn
Bryophyllum
Echinacea
Bilberry
“You want me to find all this entire list before the market closes?” I look at the long list of ingredients Valdine has just given me.
“Is that a problem?”
I lift my gaze from the paper to Valdine. She’s been teaching me magic, but at the utmost basic level from my understanding. I’m not really one for wanting to practice, but witch or mage, Valdine says it’s a required feat for one to learn about medicinal herbs and the properties each one has.
“You can’t just tell me where they are? Or have me do some sort of…spell?” I whisper the last word under my breath.
Valdine rolls her green eyes heavenward and then taps a finger against the paper. “You need to learn how to barter. This market is the perfect place to do so.”
I wave the paper at her when she pulls back. “But there’s not even a picture! And you refuse to let me use my phone to look it up on the internet. So how am I supposed to know what I’m even looking for?”
“It’ll come to you,” Valdine says and then gestures around the open shops lining the main street. She had all but dragged me to this small village about two hours away from the school.
“I should be learning how to break the hex, not go on some shopping errand.” I grumble when Valdine is out of earshot. I sigh and glance down at the paper. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The first little shop I come across has hanging plants just inside glass stained windows. I push open the door and step inside. The walls are lined with cubbies and each one houses multiple small glass jars. When I step closer to take a close, they’re all labeled different names.
“Those are spices,” I jump at the sound of a voice behind me and turn sharply and spy an older woman with a red cane. She has wispy gray hair and dark brown eyes. “Are you looking for something in particular or are you just going to stand there and gawk?”
I hadn’t realized my mouth is open. I quickly snap it shut and glance down at the paper. “I’m looking for herbs.”
“Which ones?” The lady demands.
“Um, uh—” I read the first one off the top of the list. “Fengeek.”
“Fenugreek,” the old lady says and hobbles away from me. She moves to step behind the counter just a few feet away from the main door and crouches down to produce a jar.
Curious, I move to the counter. Fenugreek reminds me of shucked corn, yellow and almost pale to the eye. “That’s…Fen whatever?”
“Yes.” The old lady regards me with a cool expression. “How many pouches do you need?”
I look back down at the list. “Two. Please.” Then I lift my gaze back to hers. She hasn’t moved an inch and her gnarled hands are holding onto the jar of Fenugreek tightly so that her knuckles are turning a shade paler than her olive tone. “Is something wrong?”
“What is your name?” She asks in a brisk voice.
I blink several times at her before answering. “Dakota.”
The lady does a glance over and then nods. “I am Briar.” She holds out her hand, palm up. “Let me look over this list.”
I hesitate a fraction of a second and then slowly hand it over to her. Briar looks over the list with a scrutinized gaze.
“You’re practicing.”
I swallow hard and shift on my feet. “Uh—”
“You’re not in trouble,” Briar says and hands the list back to me.
I take the sheet immediately, crinkling the paper in my grasp. “I’m not?”
Briar brings the red cane up and places it on the counter. Then she hobbles over to the spice wall and mumbles something under her breath. One by one, each glass container from different cubbies along the wall float out of their spots and toward the counter. My eyes widen in surprise.
“You’re a—” I still have trouble getting the words out.
Briar turns to me, arching a gray eyebrow. “But you are not. A mage, perhaps?”
I slowly nod. “Human, actually. But I’m learning.”
“I gathered that much.” Briar shuffles back to behind the cash register and the glass jars hover on the counter before making little clink sounds as they land. “Truly a shame you’re not an actual witch. It’s been decades since one has awakened.”
“Are you familiar with hexes?” I blurt the question.
She stops tapping on the register, but doesn’t meet my gaze. “If you’re speaking about the one on your forehead, then yes, I am.”
I reach up to rub the center of my forehead. “Then you can break it?”
“Of course!” Briar exclaims. “Any witch can.”
A smile curves my lips.
“But all magic comes at a price. And this one is very high indeed.”
My smile turns into a frown. “Please, I’ll do anything to be rid of this.”
Briar gives me an odd look then. “Are you sure you know what you ask for, child?”
I reach out to grasp one of her frail hands in mine. “Please.”
Briar withdraws her hand and sighs softly. “We better get started then.”