Spellcaster (Weatherstone College, #1)

by Jaymin Eve

In the doorway stood my enemy. But tonight I needed him. To fight a monster, I needed a monster.

His cold gaze traced over me, and that perfect face that haunted my dreams grew harder. I opened my mouth to explain, but I had nothing left to give. Swaying forward, I fell, expecting to hit the floor. Instead, strong arms wrapped around me, crushing against the wounds on my side. Even beyond pain, I still felt the weight of his hold.

“Precious?” he murmured, that one word dripping with fury. Maybe it was my sanity failing with my life, but it didn’t sound as if his ire was directed at me. For once. “Who hurt you?”

I’d found myself pressed into an alcove by a guy who’d been frequenting my darker thoughts lately. I never saw his face, but I knew it was always the same warlock, built like sin, with a very talented tongue and . . . Yep, it had been shaping up into an extremely nice dream.

The hot-blooded part extended to more than just sex, it was an all-encompassing possessiveness that demanded warlocks destroy anyone who upset their mate.

Conquester livara incidium morando. The ancient language of magic users was no longer part of our day-to-day speech, but we still used it in spells. Everyone knew the rough translation of the motto: “To conquer life you must first accept death.”

Alice cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. “You’re not making it up. Logan looked exactly like that, and you two were inseparable. Even though he’s Trevor’s age, he just gravitated toward you and was überprotective.” “Even against us, right?” Trevor said, brow furrowing. “Little shit was always sneaking Paisley away, and beating us up for teasing her.”

have everything I want, Paisley Hallistar.” His repeated use of my full name was crashing into my system, sending it fucking haywire. Bastard was aware of it too, if that knowing smirk was any indication. “Don’t you remember our last days?” Swallowing hard, it was a real effort to keep my voice neutral. “I don’t remember you,” I said flatly. “I was only four when we were—” “Torn apart?” he suggested. I found those words odd, and that heat in my veins surged again; my cheeks had better not look as flushed as I felt.

“See you soon, Precious.” Precious? Did that fuckwit of a spellcaster just call me—?

Marcus shot me a nice smile. “The mystery is half the fun. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Paisley. Something tells me that you might surprise us all.”

Lifting my head, I turned to see who had saved me, expecting it was the teacher—awkward, as I was pressed along the hard lengths of his body to stay afloat in the water—only to meet icy green eyes.

Everything slowed. The noise around me faded to silence, and I was drowning again, only in a completely different way. Logan’s glare was as heated as his eyes were frosty. “Trying to kill yourself before I get the chance, Precious?” Weirdly, I expected him to sound smug or satisfied at my almost drowning, but that snap of words indicated he was pissed.

“I saved you.” His voice was inflectionless, and his expression smoothed into neutral lines. “I’m not like your mother. I don’t leave people to die.” I opened my mouth to protest that, but he was already leaving. “And you owe me one now. Don’t forget it.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he said conversationally, sounding less deranged than he looked. “A distraction. An annoyance. And I’m sick of seeing your fucking face. Kingston will thank me for this.”

In my drowsy state, I was almost asleep when I felt a power brush across my skin. It wasn’t the power of the healers; it was much stronger than anything I’d felt tonight, forcing my blurry eyes open, I searched for the source, and found a hulking shadow to the side of my bed. I thought I caught a glimpse of green eyes, but when I focused again, the room was empty of shadows and scary spellcasters.

“Logan, I’m tired and hurt, what do you actually want?” He might terrify me, but I refused to let him know that. Moving faster than I could react to, he grasped the edge of the flimsy pajama top, and slowly lifted it. Maybe it was shock or curiosity, but I found myself frozen and watching as he examined my ribs, which were still painted in faded yellow and green bruises.

“Walter is no friend of mine.” His voice was flat, that flare in his eyes from before as strong as ever.

He yanked his dark hoodie off, leaving him in a nicely fitted black shirt that hugged his muscled chest, and I choked out a surprised gasp when he gently dropped the warm material of his hoodie over my head, the length falling down my body. “You’re cold and still healing,” he said as he stepped back. “Don’t leave your room again tonight.”

Feeling quite pleased with myself, I was returning to my table when a shadow loomed over me. Strong hands wrapped around my arms, and I was hauled deep into the stacks before I could utter a sound. Screams built in my throat, as memories of that bag being jerked over my head pressed in on me. “Breathe, Precious.” His low voice broke through my ragged breaths, and for some fucked-up reason, I calmed. As I lifted my head, I found Logan staring at me.

I started to sidle down the aisle, only for him to growl and slam his hands on either side of my head, effectively trapping me. “Explain,” he gritted out a repeat of his last statement.

“I am not your bro,” he seethed. “And you better stop lying to me, Precious.” He brushed a strand of my hair back, grazing his fingertips over my ear and sending tingles through my energy. “I abhor liars.”

Expecting more anger, all I got was a slow smile as he played with the ends of my ponytail, running it through his fingers. “If I wanted to murder you, Precious, you’d be dead.”

I’d show him who was weird. “No, I didn’t hit my head. I don’t have to injure myself when there’s someone else out there ensuring it happens. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” I tried to wrench myself free, but his grip tightened. “Who?” he asked, in a softly dangerous tone. “Who injured you?”

No change in expression. “Walter was taken care of long ago, and if Noah wanted to hurt you, you’d be in much less—” he eyed the long expanse of leg exposed by my shorts “—pristine condition. So, I repeat, Precious, who the fuck hurt you?”

Pulling my body along the floor, leaving an impressive bloody slide that would get a serial killer hard,

In my haste to escape one monster, I’d found myself in the lair of another.

In the doorway stood my enemy. But tonight I needed him. To fight a monster, I needed a monster.

“Precious?” he murmured, that one word dripping with fury. Maybe it was my sanity failing with my life, but it didn’t sound as if his ire was directed at me. For once. “Who hurt you?”

Logan’s unamused laughter rasped over my sensitive and burning skin. “Your life has been in my hands for years, and I’m not ready for it to end yet.”

When my insides started to knit together, I jerked and caught myself on one strong, inked forearm. His eyes snapped to meet mine, but I couldn’t let go. It was an anchor stabilizing me in the storm of his power.

Unsure if this was blood loss, or the pure presence of Logan, I tried to shake off the need flooding me. Shake off the familiarity that had me wanting to lift my head and press my lips to his. His perfect full lips that haunted me. An animalistic rumble shook his chest, and when my hand on his arm started to glow, I was close enough to see his eyes darken. “Logan,” I mumbled, lifting my other hand toward his face.

“What are you doing, Paisley?” The way he asked that question, it was as if he already knew the answer. An answer that was carved into our bones, as permanent as the power within us. Later, I’d blame my next actions on almost dying and being hopped up on our combined powers, but for now I was beyond such rational thought.

“Fuck it.” I lost my mind and thrust myself forward to slam my lips to his.

this was big shame—I was about to stammer out an apology, when another low rumble escaped his body. His hand shot under the back of my head faster than I could track, pulling me against him as his tongue parted my lips. The kiss deepened so fast that my head spun, and without conscious thought my fingers tangled in his shirt, desperate for more.

“You’re injured,” he bit out. “More,” I demanded, mindless with the sensations filling me. “This is healing me.”

Precious?” he asked. His power. Him. Every fucking part of the spellcaster. “I need it,” I admitted.

His teeth scraped over my lower stomach muscles and I arched against him, and almost sobbed when his power dissolved my underwear, leaving me bare.

Grasping the sheets with both hands, my cries grew louder, but I was past caring who might hear us. Logan groaned into me as he plunged his tongue inside. When he pulled away, he licked from my ass to the top of my pussy, and I could hear how wet I was.

He waved me off. “I’ll ignore those hurtful words for now, but I expect an apology when your memories return.” What the fuck was he talking about?

“Cute that you think it was a request—you will train with us. I’ll be in touch soon, so until then, no wandering the halls at midnight.”

Logan arched an eyebrow in my direction, and this time when he leaned closer to look out the window, he spanned his arms on either side of me, trapping me in front of him against the windowsill. Fuck fuck fuck. “Show me them, Paisley.”

A squeak was the best I could manage, and his laugh was husky. “If you wanted me in your dorm to finish what we started the other night, you only had to ask, Precious. No need to make up stories about monsters.”

The unflappable asshole shot me a slow burn of a smirk. “Wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole, hey. That’s not what you said when my tongue was buried in your pu—”

He pushed into me again, and this time I took a step back. “You’re haunting my dreams, Precious,” he rumbled, like a legit rumble spilled from the wide expanse of his chest. “When I close my eyes, you’re there.”

Logan rested his hands on the windowsill on either side of me, caging me in as he’d done the other night. He hadn’t touched me yet, but I was surrounded by the heat he naturally exuded. I had to clench my fists to stop myself from grabbing him and dragging him between my thighs.

One of his hands slid down my ass, and I gasped when he lifted me with ease, resting my butt cheeks on the ledge of the sill, my poor herbs shoved to the side.

I gasped when he slid his hands under my ass, gripping me and lifting me into his big body. Logan was a monster of a warlock, huge everywhere. Even with his pants on I could feel his long, hard length pressing into me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, that orgasm barely taking the edge off. We had months of pent-up dreams between us, and there was no stopping what needed to happen tonight.

This time the rumble from his chest was primal. “I’m free also,” he said, and with that one sentence, the barrier of his pants disappeared as he thrust inside me.

“Ready, Precious?” I wondered what would happen if I said no. Not that there was much chance of that, since I was already nodding. “Say it,” he growled. “Fuck me, Logan.”

“Why are you haunting my dreams, Paisley Hallistar?” When he locked me in his focus like this, I couldn’t remember my fucking name, let alone answer questions. “Tell me why?” “I don’t know,” I sobbed, unable to handle this feeling. “I can’t expl—explain it.”