Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(50)

“Good thing for all the wards, then,” I said.

“You’re safe here,” he said agreeably, which was such a ridiculous statement that it took all my self-control not to burst out in hysterical laughter. Maybe he caught a whiff of it anyway, because he added, “You don’t seem to scare very easy anyway.”

He could only say that because he’d never been the one scaring me. “Maybe I’m just good at hiding when I’m freaked out.”

“It amounts to pretty much the same thing in the end. You’ve been getting the hang of things, from what I’ve seen.”

“More or less.”

“Hey,” he said. “You’re a Bloodstone, even if you didn’t know it most of your life. You were born for this. And it shows.”

The smile he gave me then was softer around the edges in a way that sent an odd flutter through my stomach. “You were born for it too,” I said, just to break the moment.

A shadow flickered through his expression. He turned back to the lake. “Yeah. You could say that.”

I had the impression I’d made a misstep, but I had no idea what it was. I shifted on the log. “If you’d rather have this spot to yourself again, I can—”

He held up his hand. “Wait. Watch. This is the best part.”

The breeze had died down completely. The lake’s ripples expanded. Then, with one last tremor, the surface of the water went still. The stars glinted down toward the glossy depths, and the lake reflected them back. Tiny glimmers speckled the dark water as if a whole galaxy lay down there as well as above us.

My breath caught in my throat. Right then, Villain Academy and all its horrors fell back even farther in the distance.

“You can see how amazing that is too, right?” Connar said quietly.

It took me a second to find the wherewithal to speak. “Of course. It’s beautiful.”

His gaze slid from the lake to me. He paused for a beat and then said, “So are you.”

His low voice passed over me like a caress. My eyes jerked to him as the breeze rose again, shattering the underwater galaxy. “What?” I blurted out. “Why would you say that?”

He laughed and eased closer on the log, bringing his hand to my cheek. An eager shiver passed through me at his touch. “Because you are,” he said. “Especially when you’re refusing to take anyone’s shit.”

I was groping for an acceptable response to that when he leaned in and kissed me.

I’d only ever kissed two guys before: the boyfriend of two months who’d ditched me after the first time I’d slept with him, as Victory had gleaned from my memories, and some guy at a party a couple weeks later when I was trying to convince myself I didn’t care. Connar blew them both away in an instant. His mouth pressed hot against mine, with a hunger that drew out an answering need in me.

My hand clutched the half-open front of his shirt in the instinctive urge to pull him closer. He looped his arm around my waist as he kissed me again. His other hand lingered against my cheek, his thumb grazing over my cheekbone in a gesture that was almost as giddying as his kiss.

The taste of his mouth and the heat of his body dizzied me. What the hell was I doing? Why wasn’t I doing more? After days on end of staying constantly on guard, the sensation of my body melting into his was nothing short of addictive.

It was just kissing. It couldn’t hurt anything, could it? He hadn’t hurt me, not really, not once. And his mouth on mine felt so fucking good.

He tipped his head, his tongue parting my lips at the new angle. I welcomed it to twine with mine. His fingers stroked a burning line over my jaw and down my neck. I adjusted my grip on his shirt, and my knuckles brushed his bare chest. He made an encouraging growl.

I dared to slip my hand right under the fabric to run right over those chiseled muscles, so hard under skin that was unexpectedly soft.

Connar kissed me harder, and his hand dipped lower. He teased his fingers along the curve of my breast through my shirt.

A pang of desire spread low through my belly. I pressed into his touch. His thumb swept over the peak, my breath stuttered, and a sense of alarm finally pealed out loud enough to wake me up.

This wasn’t just kissing anymore. If I didn’t get my head together fast, it was going to be a hell of a lot more than kissing. With a fearmancer. With a guy who called two of my most avid tormentors his family.

I pushed away from Connar with a sting at the loss of contact and scrambled to my feet. My whole body felt feverish, my lips raw, the air shockingly cool against them.

Connar stared up at me, his eyes dark with the same desire still echoing through me. His voice came out rough.

“Rory—”

“I think—I think I should go now,” I said, and hurried down the slope before he could say anything that might make me forget myself all over again.





Chapter Twenty





Jude





No one could ever mistake me for a cuddler. I rolled off Sinclair, she let out a satisfied sigh, and I motioned her toward her clothes where they’d fallen beside the bed.

She gave me a narrow look. “Can’t a girl relax for a second?”

“If you wanted to relax, you should have picked a different time to come calling. My parents are due for the annual meeting in half an hour.”