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“Apparet,” Harper murmurs, her own bag appearing on the floor next to her just as mine had. She gives me a pointed look as she stoops to collect her supplies, and I inwardly scold myself for not speaking the words aloud. It’s been so long since I last slipped and forgot to hide my power, but thankfully no one is seated on my other side yet.
Very few witches or warlocks can perform a spell with just a thought, and I was warned as a child to keep that fact quiet. Only a handful of those closest to me know the truth. I’m just lucky I hadn’t done that with Denver in the room. His eagle eye would’ve noticed something for sure.
I give her a stiff nod, hoping no one notices the silent exchange, and go back to my notebook.
“Scribe,” I murmur, and the golden flecks of my power sink into the pen. My jaw tenses at the flare of magic, as if my powers are rebelling over being tucked away for so long. The pen poises itself at the top of the page, readying to take notes once the professor begins with his lesson.
I keep my thoughts firmly focused away from him though, not wanting to take the chance of my powers going off script and transcribing my thoughts for anyone to see.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Denver’s unmistakable voice sounds from the door, his chipper tone grating on my last nerve.
Taking another sip of my coffee, I attempt to ignore the Prince heir as he swaggers into the room, acting as though he owns the entire place.
“You even saved me a seat,” Denver says, already sliding into the chair beside me.
I slam the paper cup down on the table, grateful that my last few sips of life nectar don’t spill with the force, and narrow my glare on the annoying asshole now making himself at home beside me. His lackeys, Samuel and Luke, stride in after him and take the seats behind the two of us.
“Find another seat, Prince,” I growl, doing my best to keep my voice low despite the anger boiling in my veins. My eyes snap up to meet his, my lips curled into a snarl, and I immediately regret the decision.
My anger flits away the moment I lock on to those cobalt eyes glinting in amusement as he stares back at me. His brow lifts in challenge, and a sexy smirk curls on his lips, the look far more distracting than it really should be. My hands curl into fists on top of the desk as I hold myself back from lunging at him—to either throttle him or kiss that self-satisfied grin right off his face. I’m honestly not even sure which one at this point.
“You two should just fuck already,” Luke groans from behind me. I turn to face him, my glare already in place, but he just shrugs, dragging his fingers back through his light blond hair. A flicker of fear shines in his brown eyes though. Good, he should be scared.
I take a deep breath and turn back to Denver, rage radiating out of my every pore. I’ve definitely settled on throttle now, but I can’t let that show, otherwise someone might just guess the truth. Denver’s face blanches slightly before he catches himself and he turns a disapproving look on his friend.
“What? I can’t be the only one who senses the sexual tension, right?” Luke looks to Samuel, his nerves beginning to show as he looks for some support from his friend.
“Don’t bring me into this,” Samuel wisely says, looking back down at his papers.
Some of the tension eases in my chest at both of their responses, clearing up any doubt I had that Denver told his friends about what happened between us.
“Shut the hell up, Luke,” Harper snarls. She turns to face him and taps her blood-red talons on his desk ominously. I might not have attacked him, but that doesn’t mean my third won’t. And since he’s Denver’s third, it would be completely legal. Luke must realize that too, judging by the way he shrinks back in his seat.
“Okay, okay, let’s get started,” Professor Pierce says, breaking up the growing tension between Harper and Luke. The sound of his voice wraps around me like a warm caress. His words are clear, confident, and wise beyond his years, and the tone sinks into my bones, coaxing that heat to bloom in the center of my chest again.
Harper jolts at the sudden words and turns in her seat as the professor stands from his chair, a black marker already poised on the whiteboard and ready to begin the lesson.
“You’re dead,” she hisses over her shoulder at Luke. I choke on the laugh that begs to slip free at the threat, knowing it’s only because she was caught by the teacher. Her anger seems to dissipate just as quickly as it boiled over though as she sits up straight in her chair, fully focusing her attention on the board.
“Is she serious?” Luke whispers to his friends, real terror tingeing his words now. Good. Let him stew in the consequences of his own actions.
“I’ll start off by introducing myself and give you a rundown of what we’ll be going over this year,” Professor Pierce says. His gaze sweeps the rest of the class but I don’t miss how it skips over me.
My chest deflates at the dismissal, and I work to keep the look of disappointment off of my face. The connection I felt when I first entered the class, when I first locked eyes with him across the cafeteria, had felt real, palpable, like I was being drawn to him with a force greater than myself. But now a hollow pit opens up in my chest at his refusal to even glance my way.
“I’m Professor Landon Pierce, but I’d rather you just call me Landon,” he says, the marker writing his name out in flowing cursive letters.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, needing that bite of pain to keep my mind focused and alert. There’s no way I’m going to let my mind wander off on a tangent wanting to see how his first name would roll off my tongue.
“It hasn’t been long since I was in your shoes, sitting in those very same seats, so you can come to me if you need any advice or have any worries along the way,” Landon continues with a small, sympathetic smile as he looks back at the class. “I did my two years here at the academy and my five years as an active hunter before I moved over to the academic side, and this is my second year as a teacher. I know what you’re going through and what you’ll face ahead as witches and warlocks, and it’s my job to ensure you’re prepared.”
Excited murmurs sound around the room, and I grit my teeth at the few words I catch from the women behind me. Judging by the timeline he just laid out he should be about thirty years old, hence the excitement from the class. The admission age for the academy is twenty-two years old, which means he’s eight years older than me, but that sort of age gap is completely normal in supernatural society, especially with our extended lifespans. It’s difficult to truly know someone’s age for sure, since we stop aging around our mid-twenties, thus the excitement bubbling up from the women.
Carter wasn’t wrong when he said that the students flocked to him. I suppress the urge to cast a vision enchantment on them and disguise his handsome looks with something they’d find far less appealing, and instead tune out their giggles and chatter. My nails press into the palms of my hands, just enough to send sharp jolts of pain radiating up my arm while I keep my mind focused on the room around me. My magic sometimes has a mind of its own and I have to keep it under control, otherwise it might just create chaos on its own.
“As witches and warlocks we’ll be working together to strengthen both your knowledge and skills in your first year. Our goal is to make you the best team member you can be before you learn to work with other supernaturals,” Landon says, the marker scrawling the words on the board as he gets into the lesson. My own pen follows along, writing down the important points as he goes. “The others, shifter, fae, vampires, will all work on their specialties too in preparation for next year. We all have our strengths and weaknesses which makes a mixed supe team the best course for success when hunting monsters.”
The excitement quiets behind me as Landon begins speaking, the students apparently clinging onto his every word just as much as I am. I’m not sure how I feel about that though. For some reason a protective flicker of jealousy lights within me, despite not even knowing the man. It’s irrational, but I can’t help but want to turn around and bare my teeth at anyone looking at him with far more intrigue than they should.
