So what had happened to Flora Madizza after she left Crystal Hollow, and why had it motivated her to return to the lost ways of magic? I suspected the little witchling sleeping peacefully knew far more than she wanted to admit, and I wished I could take her amulet and demand the answers I needed.
Instead, I watched her shift positions, rubbing her legs together as if she desperately wanted to get more comfortable. I sighed, glancing toward the stack of pajamas on her dresser on the opposite wall. I lifted her shirt slowly until it revealed the thinnest line of skin on her stomach. I slowly unhooked the button on her jeans, keeping my eyes on her face. I felt confident her magical exhaustion was too much, and she stood no risk of waking, but I wanted to know at the first sign if I needed to flee before she found me in her room.
The witchling would never let me hear the end of it.
I unzipped her pants next; the sound echoing through the silence of the room. She still didn’t stir, not even as I curled my fingers into the waistband and carefully peeled them down over her hips. Her skin was soft against my fingers, the curve of her thighs coming into view as the jeans pulled down slowly.
I paused when I reached her knees, shifting myself lower on the bed so that I could carefully maneuver the tight fabric over her calves and ankles, taking them off her feet and tossing them to the floor beside the bed.
Her underwear were black, a lacy boyshort that curved down her stomach in a low V before resting higher on her hips. They were the perfect pair for her body, drawing my stare to her curves and the softness of her figure.
I let my fingers drift over the slight swell of her stomach, enjoying the sleepy little moan that came from her throat in response to my touch. She rolled her head farther to the side, arching her back so that she pressed into my touch.
“Fuck,” I hissed between gritted teeth, forcing myself to stand from the bed and put distance between us as my cock hardened in my slacks and my fangs throbbed with the need to feed.
I couldn’t risk putting Crystal Hollow and my ability to cohabitate with the witches at risk, especially not for a witchling I didn’t even know.
One thing was clear. I wanted to fuck Willow Madizza.
She’d just have to be awake when I did it.
13
WILLOW
I tugged at the bottom of my green and black plaid skirt, wishing I could close the gap between the hem and the top of my thigh-high stockings. Wearing a skirt was so impractical if I was going to be burying bodies in the woods.
Even if my plan was to try to keep the violence to a minimum, I wasn’t known for my lack of impulsivity.
My reflection in the mirror was something I didn’t recognize. I’d left my hair down, falling around my shoulders. The color was glaring against the white of my dress shirt. My forest green blazer rested over the end of the bed, the black shoes they’d set out for me forgotten and tucked under the edge.
My combat boots didn’t look quite right with the thigh-high socks and the absurd little ribbon that knotted into a very loose sort of bow in the place of a tie. I’d deal with the skirt without a fight, but I’d go to war over footwear.
I lifted the blazer, shrugging my arms into it and settling it to rest over my shoulders comfortably. There were no buttons down the center, leaving it to drape open and leave the high waist of the skirt where the shirt tucked in visible.
I rolled my eyes as I moved to the door to my bedroom, pulling it open to find three faces staring back at me. They were all somewhere around my age, and I knew they were probably all descendants of the original families.
At least before the school had closed fifty years ago, legacies roomed together. It didn’t matter that I was one of the thirteen students taken from outside the barriers of Crystal Hollow. One of thirteen students who showed magical promise and could offer some diversity to the bloodlines.
I’d been born a legacy. I would die one as well.
“You must be Willow,” the first of the girls said, breaking from the other two to approach. She took my hands in hers as she beamed at me, her energy radiating off her in waves. “I’m Della Tethys.” She confirmed my suspicions of being a legacy, the name of one of the two original lines of Blue witches rolling off her tongue.
I slowly pried my hands out of her grip. Her skin was cool to the touch. Her turquoise eyes swirled like sea water as she relented, turning back with a flip of dark hair to smile at the other girls and motion them forward.
The one wearing a gray and black plaid skirt with a gray blazer stepped forward, wringing her hands more shyly. “I’m Nova Aurai,” she said, and something about her felt unsettled. Her eyes were devoid of all color, the lightest of grays staring out from a remarkably beautiful face. Her dark hair was set in stunning ringlets, her lips naturally dark and lovely against her deep brown skin. “That’s Margot Erotes,” she added, gesturing to the blonde in the background.
The Red witch made no motion to come closer, studying me thoughtfully as her blonde hair framed her face in a long bob. “Pleasure,” she said, her voice practically a purr. The hair on my arms rose in response to it.
“Don’t mind her. She doesn’t like to be touched,” Della said, crooking her arm through mine. “It’s nothing personal.”
I raised a brow at the Red witch, noting the slightest tinge to her cheeks. A sex witch who didn’t like to be touched.
“That sounds absolutely torturous given your magic,” I said, the words slipping free before I could stop them.
Margot breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging forward when I didn’t pass judgment or mock her. “You have no idea.”
Nova moved to the kitchenette, grabbing four granola bars out of a jar on the counter. She tossed one to each of us. “We missed breakfast, so these will have to do.”
I tore open my package with my teeth, taking a massive bite. After the energy I’d expelled the night before, I needed more. I needed protein and food from the earth.
Nova smiled as she pulled the front door open, jerking to a halt when she found someone standing on the other side. Iban smiled somewhat shyly, running his free hand through his hair. “Headmaster Thorne thought you might need this, Willow,” he called over Nova’s shoulder.
I stepped forward, my brow furrowing as I took in the sight of the plate. An English muffin with eggs, Canadian bacon, and melted cheese was half wrapped in foil, and the plate was otherwise filled with fresh fruit, cherry tomatoes, and sliced cucumbers. I took it from him with a soft laugh, grabbing a grape and popping it into my mouth.
“That was thoughtful of him,” I forced myself to say as I chewed. It was considerate, suspiciously so, and I imagined the younger witches didn’t have any clue what a witch needed after that kind of offering to a source.
He might have been one of the only ones who did.
If any of them thought it odd that the headmaster had done something of that nature, they didn’t say it. The looks they silently exchanged communicated it clearly enough.