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“Alright, I’m ready.”
Dylan merely quirks a brow at me and follows me out the door.Goddess, please let this lesson not be as awful as I’m pretty sure it’s going to be.
Chapter Fifteen
Nessa
Ipausemidstepin the doorway to our potions class when I get a proper glimpse into the room, doing a double-take when I see not only Corin, but Oscar as well. I blink rapidly, processing for a moment and Dylan slams into my back, sending me stumbling forwards with a loudoof.
I have a moment to realise that I’m about to hit the ground hard and squeeze my eyes closed, face scrunching up as I brace for impact. Strong arms snap around my waist, and a hard body presses against my back as someone saves me from my impending doom. I brush my hair out of my eyes and peer over my shoulder, meeting Dylan’s eyes, a sheepish smile tugging at my lips. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, completely aware that we’ve become the focus of the class.
“It wasn’t your fault.” I hold his blue eyed gaze for a moment longer, my eyes darting between his—searching for something, what exactly, I’m not sure—before I drag my focus to the other two that round out my odd group of friends, minus Lexi.
Their reactions to what just happened are similar yet so different. Both are now standing, braced over their benches like they’re ready to race over to help me if they need to, but their expressions are…interesting.
Corin’s eyebrows are drawn low, those colourful eyes swirling with intensity as they stay locked on me. Body coiled tight, his fingers spread wide on his bench, like he’s ready to burn down the world for me if I say the word. A shiver rolls down my spine, heat blooming between my thighs and I swallow roughly.
I force my attention to Oscar before I can get lost in the feeling and my brows furrow as I try to decipher the complex mix of emotions he seems to be struggling with. His head is cocked to the side, nose scrunched up, brows drawn together as he blinks at me slowly, as though he’s trying to examine his own emotions. He bites down on the inside of his cheek, his lips pursing before his gaze clears and he blanks his expression like he’s only just realised I’m watching him.
I suck in a breath and slowly disentangle myself from Dylan, squeezing his shoulder in thanks, before moving towards a free bench in the back. It happens to be the one behind Oscar and Corin, who each give me a smile before turning back to face the front of the room. The benches each have a few feet between them so their stools aren’t squished against the bench I’ve chosen in the back. I shake my head to myself. I don’t know why I’m trying to examine their emotions when I have no idea what the hellI’mfeeling.
So I distract myself—one of my favourite coping mechanisms. It’s my first time in a room like this and my eyes widen. Unlike the lecture-room-esc type setups that most of my other classes are, this one is set up similarly to that of a human highschool science classroom. Long benches run along the sides of the room, branching out intermittently in the place of where desks would usually be, creating four rows on either side of the room with an aisle down the middle separating them. Each bench is allocated four stools and has individual hotplates spread out across it. I tilt my head as I look at the benches setup. With the size of supes like Corin, Dylan and Oscar who have broad shoulders, it would be an uncomfortably tight squeeze to fit more than two people spread out per bench. Even me, who is quite broad shouldered for a woman. If all four hotplates held cauldrons at the same time it would take up a lot of bench space, too. Yep, we still brew potions in cauldrons most of the time.Cliche?Yeah, but then again so are a lot of supernatural things.
The room itself is pretty big, which makes sense because for safety reasons each student needs their own workspace. Or so my theory research of this subject has told me. I grimace and set my books down, Dylan doing the same in the place beside me, leaving a seat between us though. I think it’s best that I try to keep a little space between me and the rest of the class if I can—hence sitting in the back row. Me and potions never go well together. Great, he’ll have a front row seat to me failing. Justsogreat.
Already knowing how this is going to end, I start mumbling a shielding spell under my breath.
I add the ground-up Rainbow Root into my cauldron and grimace, sucking in a breath through my teeth. When all the liquid does is bubble angrily, I count that as a win. Rainbow Root is commonly used in potions to help make it easier for magic to mix into the potion. “Maybe this isn’t so bad after all,” I mutter under my breath.
Eyeing the potion, I debate whether I’m ready to add my magic or not. When brewed and activated correctly the potion is supposed to change to a pretty light blue colour. Then it’s ready to be drunk. It is supposed to make the person who drinks it find everything hilarious for the next 10 to 20 minutes depending on the strength of the potion maker’s magic.
Having reached the moment of truth, I hover a hand over my cauldron and whisper the incantation. Usually my magic moves at a reasonable pace when I call on it, but this time it rises up only to be eclipsed by another more forceful magic inside of me, one that crashes over me like a tsunami, and I gasp, eyes fluttering against the wave of pain as I try to hold it back.BOOM!
The potion explodes with a god awful sound that mixes with several screams that erupt around the room. The hot blast radiates through the air, glancing over me and clashing into the shield I have up around my station. When it hits my shield it rebounds back at me in a cycle that repeats until my ears are ringing and the singed stench of everything is so thick I can taste it.What the hell just happened?My magic has acted up before, but it’s never felt soforeignto me before. It’s almost as though there issomething elsewrithing in my chest.
I don’t realise I have my eyes pinched shut until an incessant tapping pushes through my still ringing ears and I pry my sticky eyelids open, finding Dylan’s wide eyes staring back at me through my barrier.Holy shit, he mouths.
I don’t reply, just sigh, my shoulders sagging. Despite the protection I placed on myself before starting, my skin is stinging and a warm feeling is running down the sides of my neck. I must look a fucking fright. Note to self, avoid mirrors for a few days—or possibly forever. My brows furrow as I throw a glance at my work station. Potions have never reacted to my magic well, but I don’t understand why my magic performed that uncontrollably.Thathas never happened before, or at least not to this extent.
My attention slides to our professor’s pale face and I grimace harder, dipping my chin as a flush creeps onto my cheeks. She makes a sweeping motion with her hand, indicating for me to lower my barrier and I do as she asks.
“Are you alright?” Her voice is threaded with panic and I can see she really wasn’t expecting that. Which I suppose makes sense when she’s teaching a third year class and this was a basic introductory potion. Incidents like this when it comes to potions have always been a knack of mine. One that I wish I could shake.
“Yeah, I’m alright.” I scratch at my hairline and glance away, not meeting any of the guy’s eyes.
“You need to head to the infirmary. Dylan, dear, if you could escort her please? Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll have it fixed up in a jiff.”
“Of course,” he replies. He’s hanging off to the side now and blinks rapidly when I meet his bright blue eyes.
I grab my bag from Dylan’s section of the bench—I was smart enough to think ahead when I was setting up—briefly making eye contact before moving towards the door. I blockout the whispers and other eyes on me, keeping my shoulders back and chin held high.Fuck them.No one is perfect.
I know the way so I head in that direction, not waiting for Dylan to catch up. I huff out another breath and bite the inside of my cheek trying to ignore the way my skin is stinging. It seems to be getting worse. Footsteps sound behind me, alerting me to Dylan’s presence before he appears at my side. My eyes slide to his face and I can tell that he’s snapped out of his shock. “Holy shit, Nessa. Are you okay? Here, let me take your bag for you.”
It’s my turn to blink stupidly, not releasing my bag when he reaches for it. I was expecting more along the lines of,‘What the hell was that Nessa, you could have killed someone?’.Then again, Dylan hasn’t really been one to scold me before. “I’m fine,” I blurt out after a few long seconds. I clear my throat. “And don’t worry about it, I can carry it.”
The vamps' eyes narrow before scanning my body. “No.”
“What?” I ask, tone incredulous.
