Threat (Academy of Unpredictable Magic Book 4) Read online

  “Yeah, if that were true, you wouldn’t have given me a B last semester.”

  “You earned a B.” Roman’s eyes are playful as he says it. Then he sobers up, his gaze going dark and soft. “Elliot, I don’t care what other people will say about me. They’ve said worse things before, believe that. I can handle whatever repercussions there are.”

  “Worse things, huh?” I fold my arms, grinning slightly. “Were they worse the last time you dated a student?”

  He scoffs, and I know he can tell I’m not seriously accusing him of anything—I know he dated Tamlin before me, but she’s a professor, not a student. I’m just trying to lighten the situation up a little.

  But then Roman steps closer to me. My hands fall to my sides, and he gently cups my cheek, his thumb stroking back and forth. “I’ve never dated a student before,” he murmurs, “and I don’t plan on doing it ever again.”

  He’s not saying it directly, but he might as well be, and my breath catches. We’re not breaking up—far from it—and he’d only say “never again” if we were breaking up or if…

  Or if he thinks this is going to be a forever kind of thing.

  None of us have talked about the future. Hell, we’ve been way too busy dealing with the present moment, with my own insecurities and personal walls, with making sure the guys are okay with sharing, with Dmitri, and Roman’s past, and…

  Yeah.

  But it seems that even though none of us have been talking about it, Roman’s been thinking about it, and he wants to be with me. As far into the future as he can see.

  My heart picks up speed, racing in my chest—and it’s not from fear, but excitement. Anticipation. Joy.

  I know I’m grinning up at him like an idiot, but that’s okay. Because he’s grinning right back at me.

  Roman gets his wish, and we go and tell Hardwick.

  Inside the admin building, I raise my hand to knock on the dean’s office door, but Roman just walks right in. I’m not surprised that his approach to authority figures is, apparently, to not treat them like authority figures at all. You wouldn’t exactly know it to look at him, but Roman is a pretty damn sassy guy.

  “Oh, hello, Roman. Miss Sinclair.” Hardwick raises his eyebrows. “Please do sit down, so nice of you to drop in. Make yourselves at home, why don’t you?”

  I didn’t know the dean had a sarcastic side, but it sure does help me like him a bit more.

  “Sorry,” I mutter as I sit. I don’t apologize often, but then again, I’m not one of Hardwick’s trusted staff like Roman is. I’m a student, and I’ve known the dean for a year and a half. The only times we talk one-on-one is when I’m being hauled into the office over some school-wide threat.

  Roman doesn’t apologize. “We’d like to speak to you about something.”

  Hardwick raises his eyebrows and gestures at us as if to say go on.

  I look at the tall man standing next to me. I feel like he should take the lead on this one, not because he’s the man or anything—but because I’m the student, and if either of us is really sticking their neck out by doing this, it’s Roman as the teacher.

  He gives me a slight, reassuring nod, and then looks directly at Hardwick. “Elliot and I would like to formally announce that we’re in a relationship. We’ve been together for a month now, and we wanted to keep things private since we’re both private people but… you know rumors. We wanted you to know officially, in case anyone came to you, or people started spreading stories.”

  That’s a tiny white lie.

  Or rather, a very particular version of the truth.

  In actual fact, Roman and I started sleeping together before we were even on campus—we first met when he stopped by the bar in Portland where I worked. I didn’t even know I had magic yet.

  But laying that all out to Hardwick would probably just lead to more questions, and it’s none of his business. Besides, we did only officially get together at the end of last semester when I formally asked him and the other three guys to be my boyfriends.

  To my great surprise, Hardwick just nods, lacing his hands together on the desk in front of him.

  “I understand. Thank you for coming forward. This is a school of older students, and there’s no rule against this kind of thing for that very reason. We’re interested in training Unpredictables, not telling them who they can or cannot form romantic attachments to. But it is important that we know.”

  A wave of relief washes over me.

  It’s out. He knows. Alyssa didn’t get to ruin this for us.

  Hardwick doesn’t even seem all that surprised, which makes me wonder if we’ve been anywhere near as sneaky as I thought we were being. But he’s basically given us the school’s blessing. And there may still be rumors and judgement leveled against the two of us from some people, but at least I know those rumors won’t be the first thing Hardwick hears about us. We controlled the story.

  And no matter what rumors fly, with Hardwick on his side, Roman’s job won’t be in jeopardy.

  “There’s one thing I must warn you about though,” the dean cautions. “If there are any accusations of favoritism or special treatment, those accusations will be taken seriously. You’re expected to keep your personal and school lives separate, understood?”

  We both nod. “I judge Elliot like I judge all my students when it comes to her work in the classroom,” Roman assures Hardwick.

  Honestly, I don’t think he could do it any other way. He’s a bit of a hard-ass in class, but he’s fair, and he really cares about helping his students learn. It’s why he’s so popular.

  Well, that and his looks. The man’s gorgeous, what can I say?

  “If that’s all, then,” Roman says, and I start to stand up from my chair—he never sat down, which I think was some kind of power play—but then Hardwick clears his throat.

  “Actually, since you’re here, there is something else. Miss Sinclair, you can stay as well. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have you hear this, but since you’ve been so intimately involved in the attacks on the school, I think it’s only fair you know about this.”

  My blood runs cold, anticipation and fear and dismay all churning in my gut. Something else hasn’t gone wrong, has it? In just the first week back? Motherfucker.

  I glance up at Roman, who must sense my fear because he gently places a hand on my shoulder to steady me. The man has literally thrown himself in front of a mob of angry, magic-wielding students to protect me. Just having his touch on me helps me feel safer.

  Hardwick sighs, and he really does look old now. “I have some deeply disturbing news. As you know, the Circuit has ongoing, active investigations about each of the attacks on the school. At first, we were certain they were unrelated. The artifacts under the school, though well hidden, were a dangerous proposition from the outset; it was only a matter of time before some foolhardy student or treasure seeker might try to take one. And Johnson is just one of many in the growing anti-Unpredictable movement. As for the demon bird… well, there are still so many mysteries about our magic and how it works, we assumed at first that the bird was merely drawn here by the presence of so much powerful magic, and that someone then saw an opportunity and took control of the demon.”

  I narrow my eyes. That all sounds like wishful thinking to me. Hardwick confirms my thought as he continues, leaning forward a little.

  “But now the Circuit has told me conclusively that the person who incited Raul to his actions and cast a spell to lock his mind against interrogation was also the man controlling the demon bird. The Circuit investigators have been working to break through the locks on Johnson’s mind, and it appears he was influenced by the same man as well.”

  “It was all the same guy?” I blurt out. “You’re sure?”

  Hardwick nods. “Johnson is clearly terrified of this individual and had similar spells placed on him as Raul did, but the Circuit was able to get a bit of information from him. Not enough to identify the mastermind, unfortunately. But apparently, in
recruiting Johnson, the man mentioned Raul’s failed attempt to steal the Brimstone Orb. And Johnson was the one who told him about the existence of the demon bird and how it could steal magic.”

  I swallow, licking my suddenly dry lips. I’m nervous. How could I not be? Having more information is good, but it’s also terrifying.

  “So we’ve just got one asshole who apparently really hates our guts?”

  “It would seem so.” Hardwick gives a small sigh and his fingers twitch like he wants to rub at his eyes or clench his hands into fists but also wants to maintain his composure. “The rest of the school doesn’t know yet. I’m slowly informing the staff so that they can be on guard, but… I don’t see any reason to tell the students yet when we know so little.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” I say. I mean it, I really do. Hardwick didn’t have to tell me anything. Sure, I’ve been involved in the attacks, but that was by pure accident. I was late to the assembly that Raul used to freeze everyone else. I’m ninety percent sure Dmitri threw the fight with me in the battle royale so I could win and be in the Trials, although whether it was because he liked me or for other reasons, I don’t know. And the bird thing… shit, I’m just lucky I had my mirroring powers.

  It’s all been chance. Luck. And Hardwick doesn’t owe me an explanation.

  “Of course.” The older man nods at me. “You may not feel it, Miss Sinclair, but your work has helped to preserve the reputation of this school, even in the face of those who would discredit us.”

  I don’t quite know what to say to that, partly because I don’t see how it can possibly be true.

  So I brush past his last statement and return to the main subject of our conversation. “I won’t tell anyone about this.”

  Hardwick nods. “I appreciate that,” he tells me solemnly. He looks up at Roman. “We’ll all have to be on high alert this semester. Who knows what might come next.”

  As we leave, everything Dean Hardwick just told us begins to really sink in, and I almost punch the wall as we step out of the admin building. “This is insane! Why would someone hate us so much to stir up a whole movement against us? What the hell did we ever do to this guy? Did an Unpredictable steal his lunch money as a kid or something?”

  Roman chuckles, and I feel his hand slip into mine.

  I nearly trip over my own feet.

  The tall, gorgeous man walking beside me isn’t really into public displays of affection. Or at least, I thought he wasn’t. Roman’s a very stoic and controlled person in general, and I know we’ve been keeping everything secret, but I didn’t think he’d be the type for hand holding in public even if we weren’t hiding our relationship.

  Turns out I was wrong.

  My heartbeat kicks up again as I dare to gently squeeze his hand. He squeezes mine in response, and I try to remember to breathe deeply and evenly as we walk.

  We’re not hiding anymore. We’re together, and Roman clearly doesn’t give a fuck who sees it.

  I know that it’s something small and silly. It’s just handholding. But at the same time… it feels like a lot.

  Roman tugs on me with his firm grip, and I follow easily as we walk across campus. His hand is large, warm, and callused, and I love the way it fits around mine.

  “It almost feels like you’re leading me somewhere,” I tease.

  “Oh, does it?” He smirks at me. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

  I laugh and let him tug me across campus toward the men’s dorms.

  Anticipation builds inside me with each step we take, a combination of growing arousal and something like nervousness. It doesn’t make a lot of sense for me to be nervous—Roman and I have had sex so many times I’ve lost count by now, and he’s never made me feel anything but safe, desirable, and taken care of. But there’s something about this time, this moment, that feels big.

  Monumental, even.

  We walk through the common area and head toward Roman’s room, and I can feel his grip on my hand tightening a little as we near it. He feels it too—whatever it is. The energy hovering between us that’s different, stronger, than the usual explosive chemistry we share.

  He unlocks his door and draws me inside, and the moment the heavy wood thunks shut behind us, I find my back pressed up against it. I expect Roman to attack my mouth with fevered kisses, to devour me, to give in to the haze of want that surrounds us like a cloud.

  But he doesn’t.

  Instead, he braces both hands on the door on either side of my head, dipping his head a little to gaze at me with intense cobalt blue eyes. His gaze tracks over my face, noticing and collecting every detail, and it reminds me of the way he looked at me in the alley outside The Den the night we first hooked up.

  I feel the same way I did then as he studies me now—as if he’s peering past all my outer layers of posturing and bullshit, right down to the very core of who I am. The unvarnished, real, messy version of me.

  When he did it in the alley that night, it made me squirm uncomfortably, and I grabbed him and kissed him to make it stop. But this time, even though his scrutiny makes my heart beat harder in my chest, makes a flush creep up my neck and warm my cheeks, I don’t look away or try to stop him.

  I let him look his fill, and I gaze straight back at him, absorbing every detail of the darkly handsome man standing before me. His hair is thick, shining in the light, and his jawline is strong and defined. There’s a slight hook to his nose, and I still don’t know the story of how and when it was broken, but I want to. I want to know everything about him, from the big things to the little, stupid things.

  Sometimes I still can’t comprehend how lucky I am that a guy like Roman came into my life—much less that he wants to be with me.

  As if he can read my thoughts on my face, he lifts one hand from the door to cup my cheek, running his fingers along my jaw.

  “I’m so glad I met you, Reckless,” he murmurs softly, and my insides turn into warm honey.

  My knees actually wobble a little, and I use that as my excuse to wrap my arms around his neck, pushing away from the door to press our bodies flush together. I can feel him already growing hard, and the knowledge that he wants me—all of me, in all the ways you can want someone—settles in my heart and stays there.

  “Right back atcha, prof,” I whisper, and then I rise up onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his.

  His arms wrap around me, securing me tightly to his body as he kisses me back. It’s slow and sensual and so fucking deep, and we kiss and kiss like that for what feels like hours. Like we’re trying to exchange souls, maybe. Like we actually believe that at some point, it’ll be enough.

  It won’t.

  I’ll never be able to get enough of this man.

  But I can damn sure try.

  I push gently against his chest, and he gets the message, walking us backward toward the bed without ever breaking the connection of our lips. He sits down on the mattress and then moves backward, pulling me with him until I’m draped over his body. Our hands move confidently but unhurriedly, slipping under clothes to glide over warm skin, tugging and pulling to remove piece after piece of clothing.

  We undress each other like we’re each unwrapping a gift, and when we’re finally naked, I rub my body against his, letting his hard cock slide between my pussy lips as I coat him in the wetness of my arousal. My breasts press against the warm, solid skin of his chest as my hands glide up and down his arms, over his biceps, down his sides, mapping the shape of him.

  When I can’t wait any longer, I sit up, lean over to grab a condom from his bedside table, and roll it on over his thick length. His cobalt eyes smolder like banked fires as he watches me rise up onto my knees before sinking down, impaling myself on his cock.

  For a few heartbeats, we just stay like that, connected as deeply as we can be. Then I roll my hips, lifting up before sinking back down. Our gazes lock as I keep moving, adjusting the motions to chase the butterfly of my pleasure as it flits from place to place in my
body. He rests his hands on my hips but lets me dictate the pace, and I ride him like that as an orgasm gathers slowly in my core.

  When it hits, it’s not as sharp or intense as others I’ve had before, but it rolls over me in a great wave that doesn’t seem to stop, filling me to the brim and making my toes curl. Roman keeps his gaze on me the entire time, watching me lose and find myself again even as his body tightens like a wire pulled taut.

  Only once I’ve gotten myself off on his cock twice more does his control finally snap. He sits up and wraps his arm around me, flipping me onto my back before pounding into me so hard and fast that I come again with a harsh cry. He follows me over the edge, resting his forehead against mine as he pulses inside me.

  His lips find mine in a hazy kiss, and I wrap my arms and legs around him like a naked, sweaty koala, pinning him to my body and keeping him locked inside me.

  I know I’ll have to let go at some point. He’s got classes to teach, young minds to mold, office hours to fulfill. I’ll have to let him pull out of me and put clothes back on to go do all that.

  And I will.

  Eventually.

  Just not quite yet.

  Chapter 8

  A few weeks pass, and holy fuck, it’s a goddamn relief how normal it all is.

  I have exams, quizzes, essays, lunch with the guys, and runs in the morning with Cam, and I’m hanging out with other students too. Kendal has lunch with us every day, and I’m seeing Tandy and Erin a lot—I think they’re dating now—and Tom gets breakfast with me.

  Crazy as it sounds, I think I’m starting to actually have friends.

  I know, right. Shocker.

  It feels like I can finally breathe for the first time since the attacks on the students started during my first semester. Everyone around me is starting to lighten up too. Usually by this point, someone’s had their magic stolen or been attacked by a psycho, and I can practically taste the joy in the air as people start to loosen up and think, hey, maybe everything is gonna be fine for once.