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“Today we’ll expand on your magical combat skills. I spelled the room so the glass is shatter-proof, perfect for magical deuling,” he informed me. His voice was clinical, void of any of his usual highhanded tone.
“Are you ready to work?” I asked him as I popped a hip, snapping my finger. “Don’t you go easy on me now, hit me with your best shot, Pat.” Desmond looked at me like I was an insolent child.
He crammed my brain with so much knowledge in two hours that I was at a serious risk of abra-cadabraing myself and going poof from mental overload. We worked on more combat skills, including shaping magical energy bursts and reflective combat, which was redirecting the attacker’s magic back at them. Desmond was my target, and he blocked most of my blasts, even redirecting some of them back at me. I blocked all but one, which knocked me back several feet, flat on my ass. After a while, I realized he wasn’t trying as hard as he did at the club. He was taking it easy on me. I sent out a low power attack, aiming it right above his head. When he reached up to redirect it, I created this weird radiating magical cage that reminded me of the prongs on a hairclip, bracketing him inside it. I managed to lift him a couple inches at first, because he struggled to get free. I imagined cuffs on his wrists and the iridescent power extended out from the prongs, wrapping around his hands to bind them together. Once he was secure, I was able to levitate him a whole foot off the ground. It was a huge win for me.
“Yes! I got you right where I want you now. Any last words?” I joked.
“Good job,” he commented flatly.
He didn’t seem impressed, his face remaining stoic the entire lesson regardless of what I said or did. Although he was present and spoke to me, he barely did so unless it directly had to do with the lesson. Ever since our fight at the greenhouse, he seemed purposefully distant, except when we were at dinner afterward. What changed? Maybe he’d had some time to remember hownot his typeI am. His coldness drove me to try and impress him even more, to get a reaction from him, but I didn’t even come close.
“What’s for dinner tonight?” All four of them ate an army’s worth of food at every meal, so this could be a conversation starter.
“Ask Olga, she manages the house, menus, and meal preparation. I’m calling it. Bash should be by to retrieve you soon.”
He left, brusquely walking away without saying goodbye. I still wasn’t familiar with the house, so I was relieved to find Bash waiting for me at the door. He raised a brow at Desmond’s retreating form and faded me to his suite so we could have a half hour break before our lesson started.
We spent it researching how best to fit his knot in my smart mouth. It fit quite well, because I had a big mouth. We found out that squeezing and licking the knot had the same effect as having it shoved deep inside me. Then we researched how long it would take for him to make me come if I rode his face. He finished at just under eight minutes, which was an impressive feat. I’m sure we would find a use for this information somewhere in my magical education.
The half hour rest ended up taking forty-five minutes. I finally dragged him over to his sitting room, so he could teach me about the magical community. He started out by explaining magic versus a power signature to me, since I wasn’t clear on the topic.
“Your magic is your ability to be supernatural.” He handed me a notebook and pen from the table. “Your power signature is the level of magic. Think of it like a video game–you’re always going to be a witch as your avatar or whatever–but as you move through the game you level up, becoming stronger and more skilled. That’s a power signature. Your signature, Birdie, is off the charts and makes you a target.”
Obviously, or why else would I be here?“Okay, that’s fair. No wonder you’re so obsessed with me and stalked me for so long. I knew it wasn’t just my ass and wit,” I chuckled, snorting at the salacious grin on his face. His canines were just a tad longer than normal, and most people wouldn’t notice. The way they paired with his dark hair, midnight eyes, strong jaw, and overall dangerous air made me melt into a puddle of want.I can’t fuck this entire lesson away, I have to focus.“Tell me all about the magical community, please? Teach me, Professor.”
“You’re such a good student, the perfect vessel to be filled…with knowledge. How could I say no to such an eager student with such pouty, kissable lips?” He tried to kiss me again, but I blocked him. We had to keep our hands off each other so I could get my training in. Then maybe tonight we could spend time in the conservatory, doing naughty things under the stars.
Bash taught me about all kinds of magical beings that existed in the world. There were witches and warlocks, a million kinds of shifters, vampires, cyclops, mermaids, banshees, werewolves, soul-tamers, and hundreds of others. NYC served as a melting pot of culture for the magical population too, so most could be found in the city. Just like humans, they clustered in neighborhoods and had their own businesses and services they patroned, with some choosing not to use human-run establishments unless they had no other options.
“The majority of magical folk can blend in with the human population because they either look human, can shift, or use glamours, which are magical disguises. Those that are unable, or chose not to, are either restricted to sparsely populated areas, or live underground.” Turns out, rats were not the only creatures living in the sewers and subway tunnels beneath the city.
“Who enforces that though? Like who’s making them separate themselves?”
“The Princeps, a magical council. Every century they vote on the members, and they're tasked with making laws, upholding them, and keeping our secrecy. Desmond was actually a member at one point. Satan and God both have representatives on it and had direct input over the creation of the laws.” I made a note to myself to ask about the council later. “But basically, you need to remember three laws until we can educate you on them properly. One, do not let the human population discover the magical community. We stay hidden because as history proves time and time again, they can’t handle us. Two, do not out another person’s magical ability. That’s punishable by death. And three, the magical council is corrupt. The laws are applied and enforced at a whim. It’s verywild westin our world. Be careful and always watch your back.”
Seems pretty on par with what I’ve experienced so far.I was sure it was illegal to put a hit on a random woman you’ve never met, and to employ a team of supernatural hitmen to bag and tag her.
Bash went into more details about witches and their powers. “Witches and warlocks make up about half of the magical population in the United States, with a lot of communities of witches and warlocks across the country. As far as power signatures go, they’re middle of the pack, not the most powerful, but not at the bottom of the totem pole.” Bash went on to explain more about the common powers witches had. As he continued to lecture, I realized how different I was compared to others of my kind. “You’re actually one of the most powerful witches I’ve ever met. I’ve never met one with heightened speed, superhearing, and the ability to glow.”
Like we had summoned him, Ares burst into the suite, insisting all three of us come to the dining room for lunch during his lesson. Olga made us a Greek inspired salad with grilled oregano chicken, kalamata olives, red onion, feta cheese, halved cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, bell peppers, and mint. The dressing was an olive oil-lemon blend, and it was the best salad I had ever had. I thought the absence of lettuce made it more filling, because fuck lettuce.
We spent the majority of the meal talking and goofing around, but it felt so good. I wasn’t thinking about how distant Desmond acted, how much I missed my family, who powerblocked me, or why I landed in this mess in the first place. Peering between both their handsome faces across the table made all of the anxiety of the past week melt away. I felt as if I’d known these men my entire life.
To Ares’ credit, lunch was technically a lesson because he taught me something. I learned to localize magic in smaller amounts, which, surprisingly, was harder than projecting fireballs at a target. Halfway through the lunch, I was able to push my magic to my fingertips instead of my palm. My index finger looked like a flickering candle, and I was so proud of myself for being able to light the votive on the table.
“Atta girl,” Bash praised in a deep, raspy tenor. His voice alone made my stomach clench.Holy shit.
“They learn so fast!” Ares clutched his shirt over his heart and dramatically fake cried at the ceiling. “MY LITTLE GODDESS IS GROWING UP!”
“Yeah, I’m a big girl now,” I joked. “How do I know I won't burn myself if I hold the flame too long?”
“Babe, it’s impossible to burn yourself with your own magic, because it’s an extension of you. But I can burn you with my fire magic, because you didn’t make it. Desi, Bash, and Mal are impervious to any fire, natural or made via magic, because Hellish creatures are born in it.”
That made sense. If you’re from the fiery pits of Hell, I guess you would be resistant to burning.
“So the reason you can’t burn me with your heated tongue and fingers is because it’s not fire?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m using my inner fire magic to warm myself and make your pussy feel good. If I shoved a flaming finger”–he lit his entire finger on fire as an example–“inside you, that would not make you feel good. You’re more protected against regular fire because of your magic. Think about it, even before your powers started coming in, have you ever burnt yourself, or gotten sunburn on those perfect titties?” he inquired with the goofiest grin as he unabashedly ogled them.
