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“Touch your breasts,” Calum commanded, and Fern’s hands obeyed immediately. She pinched and twisted her nipples, and Calum was straining against his trousers at the sight of her.
“My staff says you’re such a good girl,” he purred in her ear, picking up speed with his fingers. “They love you. They say you’re so well-behaved and polite. But everyone here is a predator, too, darling. Do you think they’ll be shocked when I walk into a room, and they’ll know how I made this pussy weep?”
Fern’s orgasm exploded through her; it was a mix of lust and heat and magic, and most of all, Calum. Every part of her body angled itself towards him as she screamed through her release, her body turning molten and her limbs shaking in the afterglow.
Calum had seen nothing that satisfied the primal parts of himself so thoroughly, and he joined her in ecstasy. He couldn’t even bother to be embarrassed that he had finished in his pants, untouched like a faeling.
Fern’s head fell back as her eyes closed. She took long, shaky breaths as she tried to calm her racing heart. Calum gently picked Fern up and carried them to one of the other chairs in the office, settling her so she was in his lap.
They didn’t know how long they stayed there, Calum’s eyes getting lost in the flames of the fireplace once more. His hands ran over Fern as if he couldn’t stop touching her.
“Well,” Fern’s voice was hoarse when she finally spoke. “I would’ve always assumed that was a bit cliché, but…goodness, professor.” There was a lift in her voice that told Calum she was smiling.
As soon as they had come down, fear had flooded him once more.
She needs to know.
They couldn’t keep doing this if he was going to keep his sanity—whatever was left of it.
Calum leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“I need you to do a few things for me.”
Chapter Nineteen
Fern watched as Calum switched back to the professor with frightening speed. The traces of their magic were still glowing in his eyes and under his skin, but Fern had to keep herself from staring in shock at how quickly he rallied. If it weren’t for the obvious stain at the front of his trousers, Fern would wonder if she had just dreamed the entire thing. She fidgeted and pulled her tights back up before fixing her cardigan.
The roar of the fireplace and the smell of sex mingled with the scent of tea and ink, and the vicious grip of doubt creeped into her head. She had fully chosen Calum and, by extension, his cause. She’d just had one of the strongest orgasms of her life, and he barely needed to touch her to make it happen…
But that’s just it. He barely touched you, in a way.
Fern knew that logic was flawed. To put it in terms that Calum always used, any magical creature could now scent them all over each other. But she couldn’t argue with her insecurities that he had still put distance between them.
I mean, ‘distance’ as in fucking you with his cane, but…still. It’s not as intimate.
Calum had reiterated that they needed to dig into whatever resources they could find to potentially unravel the meaning of the rest of the curse. Now that they had the full incantation that Gweyir had used, it changed everything. Fern could only nod dumbly.
Calum had readjusted himself in his slacks and could barely make eye contact with Fern, a sheepish, almost scared demeanor to him. He handed her a heavy stack of old books as he got up to leave the office.
“I’m going to go to the library and, um, speak to Emmett.” Calum cleared his throat. He shoved his arms through the sleeves of a long peacoat, checking to make sure that it successfully hid the evidence of their rendezvous.
“Okay,” Fern nodded sharply, unable to say anything else for fear of bursting into tears.
“Um,” Calum stopped in the doorway, looking down at the ground instead of at Fern. “Read through those, okay? They’re… important.”
Fern could only nod dumbly, and Calum adjusted his glasses and left.
Thirty minutes later, Fern stared at the bottom of a pint glass. The dull roar of the drunk patrons around her was drowned out by her thoughts. She did what any reasonable person would do and immediately texted Mara, demanding that she be taken somewhere where she could drown her sorrows in beer.
The location that Mara had chosen for this depressed debauchery was The Castle Arms. It was an unassuming pub that wasn’t far from the university campus. Gold embellishments decorated the black exterior, with a perfect view of the picturesque street outside.
The ceiling was painted black, too, and had a map of Scotland painted on it. True to its name, various coats of arms and plaques hung on the walls. One wall was covered in a muted Victorian ditsy print wallpaper.
The bar was made of dark wood and was backlit to highlight the dozens of bottles of whisky that were available to patrons. Students—both magical and non—were huddled in various booths, either drinking or studying. As Fern looked up from her glass, she couldn’t help but notice some of the pink salt lamps that lined the bench looking out the front window.
Mara caught her gaze and smiled knowingly. “The owner is a witch. I’ll introduce the two of you.”
“Mmm,” Fern muttered incoherently, picking up her glass and downing the last of it. It was hardly anything more than foam at that point, and she grimaced.
