23. Practice makes Perfect #2
“Right there, yes. Touch me, right there,” she announces with pleasure, dragging out the sounds. “I want you both inside me. I can’t take it any longer.”
Ohh shit. I’m inside someone’s closet, listening to them have a…threesome? Orgy? My grip tightens on the knob as I figure now is not the time for semantics on what may or may not be going on out there.
“Tell me you can take more, Rebecca. I need to hear it,” a male speaks in a low tone, matching her pleasurable one.
“I need more. I need…” Her moans force a pause. “Both of you, now.”
With a gasp, my hand slaps over my mouth. The same one which holds onto the knob. The same knob that turns and cracks open the door upon my inelegant response, allowing me a view at who is causing Rebecca such immense pleasure.
No fucking way. You’re telling me she’s sleeping with…
“Hold on, I heard a noise,” the guy with his back towards me says, and on cue, Rebecca raises herself up. Her tanned breasts are on full display as the wildness of her mane drapes around them. Damp strands of golden hair stick to her shoulders.
Her mascara is smeared, matching the streaks of lipstick along her cheeks, and I wonder how the hell they heard me over the sounds of ass slapping and intense moans.
I venture away from her closet door, further into the dark, and put my phone away. Feet slap against the marble floor, drawing near, and panic heats my palms. Now is a good time for summoning a sigil and getting the hell out of here.
Red glimmers beneath me until a diamond light engulfs the space. Please take me to my room. Multiple steps grow closer.
Thank God her office is huge.
Whispers trickle in, and my eyes close, anticipating being caught and knowing she will kill me for sure. I concentrate on my room, and another pull of magic takes me away as a peak of light enters her closet.
My crimson gleam settles, and this time, I’m back inside the training room, standing beside a pillar next to one of the mirrors streaked with handprints and… Are those ass and breast prints? My lips curl as I turn away.
A shiver traces my neck, remembering unpleasant memories of a near death experience with Ethan. I’m pissed this isn’t working. Today has been one roller coaster after the next.
Exhaustion is kicking in, and despite it being midday, turning in sounds amazing. To hell with their time difference–no day should be this long.
Sweat glistens above my brows, with small beads trailing along my arms. I’m fatigued, and my muscles ache.
Forced to take a knee as the room spins, I hear three voices drift in my direction of students in hand-to-hand combat.
Not yet noticing me, I maneuver behind a pillar, catching a breath and doing a bit of spying.
“Come tomorrow, that bitch Kyra, will fucking pay. You should’ve seen her in Yasmine’s class. Acting like she belongs here. She got lucky, but if we had a real match, I would’ve burned her ass alive.” I pinpoint Tish’s voice. I knew she was still upset. Damn it.
She throws a few punches and kicks, blocked by another female who despises me.
“At least your arms were not…” Gina pauses, ducking and sidestepping a flaming kick combo.
And now I’ve learned that’s another thing that can be done with magic.
“Dislocated from your shoulders. Elizabeth required four different spells to heal me. And still, she advised against me training.”
No surprise those two are working together, which leaves the third voice belonging to Paige. It begs the question: Why is my magic bringing me to places I’m not wanting to be? What is going on?
Tish scoffs, taking a break and sits upon a bench. “Have you discussed your arrangement with Ethan?” she asks Gina.
“He’s been ignoring me. Focusing on his research ever since the mortal-fay showed up.” She takes a seat beside Tish, pulling out her phone and typing away. “Interfering with my plans.”
“Have you tried bedding him? He might be uptight. Plus, I’ve heard things about his cock. Wonderful things.” She uses her hands and gestures some weird movements.
My ears perk at their topic, and I can’t fathom why. I’m not into assholes with murderous intent. Especially if I’m the one they’re planning on murdering. I’ll chalk it up to gaining more information about my rivals. The more info I have, the better.
“I tried.” Gina sighs. “Last night, he refused me entry into his room. Even sent him pics of me wearing nothing but my handcuffs and anal plug, because he…Never mind. Anyway, he blocked me after texting, ‘grow up,’ so I don’t know what more I can do.
” Her features transform into something more devilish.
“It’s Kyra’s fault. He’s too tired to enjoy my company, but once I challenge her to a death match, she’ll be gone for good. ”
I thought I heard her roaming the House Death halls last night, but figured her annoying tone lived rent free in my head. Nice to know I’m not losing my mind. And she can’t challenge me to a death match. Neither of us are within the thousand ranking, so she can go to hell.
My knees begin to ache, being in this position without moving. My energy has somewhat replenished, and I’m ready to leave–until Paige chimes in.
“Wait, have the two of you not had sex yet?”
“I’d rather not say,” Gina voices, curling her hands into tight fists. “Regardless, once we’re eternals, he won’t be able to keep his hands off me.”
“We have this in common. She’s going after my crush, Horus, so I’m with you taking her ass out.
Unlike Ethan though, Horus loves my nudes.
I can tell when he sees them. In fact, look.
” She pans her phone in their direction.
“I sent him two this morning. Before and after my orgasm.” Paige’s face gleams with lust.
“By the Gods, Horus is fine as hell. Those dimples almost had me removing my panties.” Tish giggles. “Before you two bond, you think he’ll be willing to have me join for a night of hard thrusting?” She smiles, dragging her eyes over Paige.
“Girl, hell yes. First, we need Kyra out of the picture.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll have that bitch dead before this semester ends.”
They must be joking. I can’t have this much bad luck in one damn day.
It’s only my first official day, and I’ve already accumulated five fays wanting me dead, all for different reasons.
How the fuck am I safer here than in the mortal realm?
On top of everything, there is this bullshit about me wanting their men.
Still kneeling, I feel my palms warm with a red glow, bringing forth a sigil. I vanish, fighting this alarming urge of anger as my skin itches with frustration.
The scent of fresh fruits linger as my magic disperses. “Finally,” I yell, back inside the living area of my new dorm room.
Facing the front door’s entrance, there is a massive window engulfing the wall to my left, overlooking a balcony. A fancy onyx sofa-set is placed in front of the window on top of a black marble floor with streaks of gold throughout, matching the walls.
A mounted TV is also left of my entrance, hanging above an ignited fireplace, flashing beautiful embers of green. And on my right, an elegant study space sits with a bar area beside it, containing a large fridge with an even larger bar top.
Being on floor five has its perks, wide hallways leading to our rooms, no congregating students–unless in the common area of floor one–and no one ventures beyond their floors, besides visiting another student.
There is one more floor above me, reserved for House Death’s strongest members, but with a balcony view like mine, who can complain.
Most of all, I have a sigil now and can avoid everyone.
Heading towards my room in the back, I see the spa-like bathroom awaiting. Heated floors–a walk in shower–garden bathtub– and a mini room-sized closet are further in. This entire place is lavish.
Angie assisted in procuring more school clothes, workout uniforms, toiletries, and of course, underwear. But since awakening my magic, money is not an issue, and I can toss out those crotchless panties.
Okay fine, I’ll keep a few. They’re cute, and I’m not trying to hurt her feelings.
I close the door of my room for an extra layer of protection against unwanted visitors, strip off my clothes, and prepare to shower.
Practicing my magic results in an abundance of shower gel, hair supplies, and skin care. All worse than the other, burning my skin, too thick to lather, and even rancid in smell. But I’ll eventually make one good enough to use.
I make quick work beneath the boiling shower. Stepping out, I wrap myself inside a thick black towel that is soft against my skin.
Retrieving a pair of panties–charcoal seamless boyshorts–out the closet, I pull them on along with an ebony hoodie. House Death’s words trail down my sleeves with its symbol printed on the back, a serpent, wrapped around a large broadsword, biting its tail. Comfy.
I wrap my hair, concealing it beneath a satin bonnet, then jump into my king sized bed. Though I don’t need the extra space, it sure as hell is nice to have. A window is cut out above the headboard, which swallows my room in natural lighting.
With my back propped against the frame and the covers pulled over my waist, I release an exhale as the silken sheets cool my skin.
All day I’ve had a few things stored in my memory’s to-do list. First, get a notebook and write down each day’s events.
Second, find a computer and do some hacking. And third, practice my magic.
Now knowing each day may very well be my last, I need to be prepared for whatever comes my way. No more surprises.
After extensive practice creating pencils, pens, those gathered plants in the corner, a few pink rugs, which were meant to be red, and deformed candles, I’ve gotten a basic feel of how my magic works. Kind of.
Holding a hand out, I envision each detail of a journal. Hard cover, thin, creamy sheets of paper, the size, and even the texture.