Back in the day, when vampires still attended the academy, a vending machine dished out sachets of blood for vamps who didn’t have a blood source.
Not anymore, though. The vampire dorm had been empty ever since the last vampire students succumbed to the bloodborne virus.
The merman walked a path around the perimeter of the cavernous room, still tracking the witch. His troll friend wasn’t with him for once, which surprised me. Those two usually stuck together like glue. I guessed there was strength in numbers.
One of the more assholey mages commented loudly about the merprince but he ignored the dickhead. I made a mental note to hit that mage with a lightning bolt the next time we had an outdoor class. While my father loudly and proudly flaunted his disgusting ideology, his views weren’t my views. When I heard mages and witches mouthing off about their superiority, I added their names to a list. So far, rather a lot of them had met with unfortunate accidents during bad weather episodes.
It was a wonder Montgomery hadn’t called my father to complain. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising, given how much blackmail material I had on the old bastard.
I drained the last of my coffee and headed outside, taking a seat on a bench against the wall while I pretended to stare at my phone. A few minutes later, the little witch appeared with her friend.
They talked together in low voices and hurried off toward the library. From the witch’s sneaky glances left and right, I had a feeling she was up to something. The merprince appeared a few minutes laterand trailed after the two witches. The pathetic expression on his face told me the idiot was crushing hard while doing his best to hide it.
Did I look like that when I watched her?
Fuck, I hoped not.
I stood, intending to go back to my dorm, but the incubus blinked into view next to me. Before I could blast him with lightning, he’d grabbed me and teleported us away.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled when Zane released me. He’d dropped us in a clearing somewhere in the forest. I couldn’t hear voices or see much of anything in the murky gloom. Densely packed trees and a thick overhead canopy blocked out most of the light. The faint whiff of sulfur lingered above the smell of ozone and tree sap, which concerned me.
My father had mentioned in passing that demon activity had risen in this area. Dealing with a fucking demon attack was the last thing I needed right now. My head still hurt from the moonshine I’d consumed last night, and having some disgusting creature trying to kill me would not help my hangover.
Zane grinned, unconcerned about the murderous looks I threw his way. “I wanted a chat with you.”
“And you couldn’t have fucking sent me a message on Magigram like a normal person?”
“Why would I do that?” He seemed genuinely confused by my question. “I don’t want the Mage Council to know what I’m up to.”
I scoffed. “They don’t read our messages.”
“Really?” From his arched brow, he didn’t believe me, but whatever. I wasn’t about to get into a conspiracy theory about MageTech companies illegally harvesting data.
“Look, it’s getting late.” My jaw ticked in irritation. “Why are we here? I have shit to do.”Like finish the moonshine and smoke some witch weed.
“Raven needs help with a spell.”
My eyes rolled so far back in my head, I nearly fell over. “No change there, then.”
“It’s a very important spell.”
I tried unsuccessfully to stifle a chuckle. “Does she want to dye her hair pink? Or maybe she wants to make her tits bigger? I’m sure the witch she hangs around with can do the honors. Or you, seeing as how you’re so invested.”
“Her tits are perfect and pink isn’t her color,” Zane said, still grinning in his customary disconcerting way. He had a point. Her tits were fucking perfect, but I kept that opinion to myself.
“Why are you interested in the witch, anyway? You’re a third-year and leaving soon. I didn’t think you gave a shit about anything here.”
“I don’t usually,” he agreed in a breezy tone. “But she needs help with a tier-ten spell, and you’re the best mage for the job.” Before I could think of a suitable riposte, he had a wickedly sharp blade pressed to my throat.
My defensive magic surged up to protect me… and then… sputtered out.What the actual fuck?
There was no reason my magic would refuse to hurt him unless…fuck.
“You’re her soul-bonded mate.” Of course he was. Mate bonds were tricky. While my father skirted the boundary of what he could get away with without incurring horrifying pain and terrible karma,anyone connected by a mate bond couldn’t hurt each other even if they wanted to.
Not that most bonded magicals would want to cause each other pain.
It was pretty much unheard of for a mated couple or mates linked via a central magical to want to hurt each other out of malice. The bonds enabled everyone in the bonded group to form close, emotionally satisfying links.
