Cruel Magic (Royals of Villain Academy #1)(57)

I waved my hand at him, and my fingers swept across his chest. A surprisingly solid chest considering how slim he was. I was abruptly twice as aware of just how little space remained between our bodies.

Declan caught my wrist. His thumb swept over my palm with a flash of heat.

“You—” he said in a rasp, and then his voice cut off as his mouth collided with mine.

I was still angry with him, but I’d also wanted to kiss Declan Ashgrave from the first moment that striking face had appeared in front of me in the midst of the worst horror of my life, and both of those facts in combination were… confusing.

My lips parted in surprise, and he tipped his head to kiss me harder. My free hand shot up to push him away, but somehow instead my fingers just closed around the folds of his shirt, clutching onto him.

His mouth tasted like sugared coffee, perfectly bittersweet. He kissed as if he were searching for something in the claiming of my mouth. I wanted to give it to him, and I also wanted him never to find it if it meant he’d keep kissing me like this.

He pressed forward, his body aligned with mine from head to foot and scorching hot as he held me against the shelves. A little noise that was somewhere between a protest and a plea for more worked from my throat.

Maybe it was the sound that shook him out of whatever had come over him. All at once, he was shoving back from me as far as he could go, which wasn’t far. His back smacked into the opposite shelves. A book fell to the floor with a thump.

“Fuck,” he said, sounding so pissed off my body went rigid. “Stay right there. Don’t move. Don’t touch me.”

My own anger flared back to the surface. “What the fuck are you talking about? You kissed me. It wasn’t my idea.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he snapped.

“No, from the way you’re talking, it isn’t immediately obvious.”

“Just—just stop.” He inhaled raggedly. “It isn’t going to happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all.”

He paused, and a sensation rolled over me that snuffed out my anger in an instant. A waft of fear, thick and prickling, surging up through my chest from where he stood.

“Could you please not tell anyone about this?” he said quietly.

“It’d be your word against mine anyway,” I muttered, but I couldn’t put much force behind the remark.

Declan Ashgrave was scared of me. Scared of what I could do if I revealed this moment of indiscretion.

That was what a fearmancer would do, wasn’t it? Make use of every weakness they could.

“And it won’t be my word at all,” I added before he had to say anything else. “I’m not interested in hurting you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. That’s not who I am.”

A ragged laugh escaped him. “It’s too bad you ended up here, then, isn’t it?” He leaned close to the door. “I think it’s been long enough. I’ll go out. If I haven’t come back in five minutes, assume you can get out of here without Victory coming at you.” He turned back to me just for a second. “And after this, stay away from me.”

He ducked out without another word, leaving me alone in the dark.





Chapter Twenty-Three





Rory





It was a good thing I had to stop for a second to fish in my purse for my dorm keycard, because that gave me the chance to hear Victory gloating on the other side of the door.

“And then when he was done begging, I told him I’d consider going out with him again only if he can get us into Fuchsia next time.”

Her minions laughed approvingly. I backed up a step, dropping my keycard back into my purse.

I’d had a few hours to simmer down from the close call in the library—in all the assorted ways I needed to—but I wasn’t sure I could take another round of the Victory treatment tonight without probably screaming and possibly doing something that would get me in trouble without any scheming necessary, like setting her hair on fire or choking her with the lovely glass sculpture I’d made for her.

Better that I found something else to occupy myself with until she either headed out for a night on the town or went to bed.

I meandered back down the stairs uncertainly. The library was a no-go zone in case an ally of hers spotted me going in and alerted her. It was getting dark out, the sun having just dropped below the western treetops. I guessed I could discover how much the social suicide of having dinner in the junior cafeteria could lower my already rock-bottom status. I didn’t feel all that hungry yet, though. My stomach was still twisted up from this afternoon.

Just beyond the main doors to Ashgrave Hall, a lean figure with dark red hair was standing at the edge of the green. As I halted, debating between retreating or making a show of not being fazed, Jude crouched down and clucked his tongue. A sleek brown ferret with a dark mask across its paler face came darting through the grass to meet him. It had a little gray-furred body clamped in its jaws, a dribble of blood coloring the tiny chest.

“That was a quick hunt,” Jude said to the ferret. “You must have been hungry. Eat up.”

He straightened up again as the animal tore into its meal. I jerked my gaze away from the raw flesh to his face. “Your familiar?”

He didn’t startle before he looked at me, so he must have noticed me coming out even if he hadn’t acknowledged me. “A handy companion,” he said breezily. “What do you figure we should get for you, Ice Pop? I can think of all sorts of creatures that would make excellent meals for the existing university menagerie.”