Chapter 1
As it turned out,being one of the most renowned necromancers in Daosbor did not preclude me from first-day-of-class anxiety. I was thirty years old—going back to study and hone my craft further should not be this distressing. The butterflies were there, though—uninvited guests as I walked through the halls of the Royal Academy of Necromancy in the Dead City.
All of the Dead City was beautiful, but I'd always loved the Academy the most. Its dark, winding halls were full of shadows and deep, brooding colors. The massive library housedsome of the oldest tomes in Domhan na Rùin, and I couldn't wait to get my hands on them. Carefully, of course.
My heels clicked on the marble floors as I made my way down yet another corridor. The schedule the Academy administrator had given me hadn't been particularly clear about where I might actually find each of the classrooms, unfortunately. My eyes darted down the hall searching for the right number above one of the doors. Just my luck, the furthest one appeared to be correct. I glanced at my pocket watch—I'd be exactly on time.
I lengthened my steps, hurrying for the door, and strode into the classroom. It was full of chatting necromancers. No one even looked up as I came in, thankfully, and I slipped into a seat at one of the long tables at the very back of the room.
It had been years since I'd last been in school, and even then, I had attended a smaller mage college on the southern coast. Now I found myself here to pursue a master's certificationand take my career in a more academic direction. I was a gifted battle mage, and had served in Daosbor's royal guard for nearly six years. I'd even earned myself the title "Flame of the South" because of my ability to leverage necrotic energy as fire. My heart, however, was always with my books, and I longed to write and study and research.
Just as I settled and pulled out my notebook, quill, and ink pot, the sound of a throat clearing at the front of the room caused me to look up.
The man that stood at the lectern was…striking, to say the least. His silver hair was perfectly smooth and tidy, and his cheekbones were dramatically sharp with a pronounced jawline. He was tall, leanly muscled, and looked out at the gathered necromancers with an air of confidence and command that had heat rising to my cheeks. Old gods save me, I could not possibly be immediately lusting after my professor. He looked to be at least fifteen years my senior, if not more.
He also looked…very good.
He surveyed the class coming to order as I openly ogled him, and—to my eternal mortification—his eyes flicked to mine. I looked away as quickly as possible, but I knew he had seen me staring. I needed to find a hole somewhere to crawl into, it would seem. Or a puddle to melt into.
"Hello, all, and welcome to your first day of Advanced Necrotic Battle Magic. I am Professor Benedict Excidium. I know this is not the first class at the Royal Academy for some of you, but for those just joining our ranks, we extend a warm welcome. I am excited to embark on a season of learning about the intricacies of our magic with you all. We will begin our studies primarily here in the classroom, but we will spend some time on practical applications later on. Does anyone have any questions about the syllabus I provided?"
I knew he was talking about something important to the class, butI was so transfixed by his lovely accent that I barely processed the words he was saying. The rustling of pages finally snapped me out of it—everyone around me was turning to a specific page in their books.
I somehow managed to focus during the rest of the class, mostly by keeping my eyes down on my notes. Every time I looked up at him, my mind veered off into fantasies that were truly delusional. He was my professor. Despite the fact that I was a grown adult, I highly doubted someone as distinguished as the professor would have any interest in me.
I supposed it didn't meanIcouldn't have interest inhim.
The rest of the day, my nerves stayed relatively calm, my thoughts instead occupied with daydreams of what someone with his…experience might be like.
Chapter 2
Amonth of classesat the Royal Academy had made me feel settled into my new life, but unfortunately, my silent little infatuation with Professor Excidium had only gotten worse.
After the first few days, I felt confident enough to sit further up toward the front of my classrooms generally, and that included Advanced Necrotic Battle Magic.
I was already rather an expert in this area, but it was a required course of study for those pursuing arcane certificates. The book learning portion of this class was all very familiarmaterial to me, which left me plenty of time to stare at Professor Excidium and pretend like I was listening. I was not, in fact, listening, but was rather undressing him in my mind, imagining all the things he'd do to me. I needed to find a hobby.
As time went on, though, I started to see small things that almost made me wonder if he'd taken notice of me, too.
I convinced myself that it was just wishful thinking—catching him staring back at me while I bent to pack up my things after class, a particularly intent look of interest when I raised my hand to contribute to the discourse, even a smirk when I said something witty. I almost thought his eyes flicked down to my mouth a few times as he spoke to me. I must be losing it, right? Wishful thinking and all that?
It was enough to set my imagination truly on fire, though.
One night, as I lay awake unable to sleep, images of him making my body sing, seducingme, flooded my mind. I snaked my hand down between my legs, my eyes squeezed shut, and began to gently stroke myself. I was so wet already from my filthy thoughts, my fingers slipped easily over my clit.
My other hand found my breast, and I lightly pinched my nipple until it was pert and sensitive, imagining Professor Excidium's hands on me instead.
Images of him pinning me down, whispering in my ear, pushing my knees apart, pushing himself into me…I kept circling my clit, and my orgasm began to build in my lower back. I shifted my finger, rubbing the pad against the spot to the side of my clit that always sent me over the edge. I pressed down, imagining what sorts of dirty things the professor would say to me, and my pleasure crested.
I came with a moan, breathless. I lay there, determined not to feel too pathetic for what I'd just done. After what might have been an hour, I rolled myself off the bed and went totake a hot shower, hoping the steam could bring me some sleep—and some relief from my infatuation.
Chapter 3
Not long after myfirst (not only, mind you) foray into touching myself to thoughts of my incredibly attractive professor, our class was ready to begin some of the applied techniques that had been mentioned in the syllabus.
We gathered in one of the training courtyards of the Academy, a large, open space made completely of stone blocks to prevent any major damage. Daosbor was rather temperate, but the air held early winter's crisp bite. I wore my mage's armor to class that day. I was a seasoned battle mage—I may as well act like it. I was definitelynotdressing to impress anyone in particular.
I joined my fellow students on the far side of the courtyard, and we all chatted, waiting for Professor Excidius to arrive and begin our lesson. He strode out into the courtyard only a moment after I'd taken my spot and he…had also worn his mage armor. My lust raked its claws down my back and a pulse of arousal hit me in a wave.
