“I already have,” Alyssa mutters.
“We’ll do fine,” I assure her. “We can study together.”
“Advanced Spellcrafting will bethe most difficult magic you’ve learned in your time here at Fairhaven,” Professor Grafton says by way of introduction. “You’ll be using more intricate transmutation circles, and you’ll be expected to memorize them all. You’ll do well in my classes if you pay close attention in Spellcrafting Theory and do the assigned readings. Everything you learn in my theory class will aid you in Advanced Spellcrafting. You’ll be drawing on casting mechanics, plus words of power. Difficult magic. If you struggle—and you likely will—come to me immediately, and we’ll resolve your challenges. I take no issue with explaining myself more than once; indeed, many of my former students have dropped in for brief tutoring sessions. Don’t be afraid to take advantage of my office hours.”
Alyssa grips her pencil so tightly it nearly snaps.
Thank the saints I read ahead in this class, too.
In Cadigan’s absence,Professor Hayes has taken over teaching Magical Theory. I’m glad to have him in another class this year after having him for Foundations in Magic and Applications of Magic in previous years.
“Miss Rose,” he says after Marcus and I step into the classroom after another earth-shattering kiss. Saints, I hope I’m not blushing. “Good to see you. I trust you had a pleasant summer. Well, as pleasant as possible given recent events. Regardless, I’m glad to have you in class once more.”
I thank him and take my seat, noticing that the beta professor looks a bit ragged. Nevertheless, he brings his usual energy to our class. The class itself is a bit like Foundations, but a much deeper dive into how the elements ofmagic work together to create spells. It lacks the biological component of Foundations, and I’m grateful for that. Learning about the number of omegas and betas killed by having their maginaluses removed was eye-opening and harrowing.
And now, omegas are undergoing the same horrors at my father’s hands. Saints, I have to read him. Have to hope that all my training with Marcus will bear fruit and that I’ll even beableto read him.
I send a prayer up to the saints. Omega lives depend on my ability to read my father.
It’smy Friday class I dread. Magical Medicinals, taught by Redwood Rose, my father, who has no business teaching young mages anything. I’m silent on the drive to campus, and Marcus doesn’t push. He knows where my thoughts have strayed to.
He knows how afraid I am of my father and his experiments.
When we park in the parking lot near the Omega Residences, he closes the space between us, dropping his forehead to mine. He nuzzles my nose with his, breathing in my scent just as I draw his into my lungs. “It’s going to be all right,” he promises. I want so desperately to believe him, but he doesn’t know my father like I do. To drive his point home, he gives me a light kiss, no more than a quick capturing of lips, stroking my cheek and marking me with his scent. It’s like a winter breeze blowing over my cheek, and the scent of pine in my nose slows my racing pulse.
“I promise I will always keep you safe, Juniper. Always.”
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat. If only Marcus knew how his kisses gave me courage, that his touchstrengthens me when I’m frightened. He will keep me safe, in more ways than he knows.
I grab him and kiss him back. For courage and strength.
“Good afternoon,class. I’m Professor Rose, and I’ll be your instructor for Magical Medicinals—the fusion of magic and science that’s making the world a better, healthier place. This blend of scientific knowledge and practical spellwork makes doctors and healers better at fighting diseases. It speeds our healing when we’re injured and draws as much on magic as it does science. Let us begin.”
He starts his lecture, and I diligently take down notes, determined to give him nothing. Not fear, not a demure mask. Nothing.
We spend the second half of class looking at slides of potions through powerful magic-enabled microscopes, noting the composition of the potions we examine.
My father comes by the table I’m sharing with Alyssa, and his thoughts bombard me.
He envisions me fighting against Soldiers in a hospital gown, a needle puncturing my neck. My body on a metal slab table.
I look up quickly with a jerk of my head, my eyes landing on my father’s. They’re blue, like mine. Our coloring couldn’t be more similar. There’s no question that I’m his daughter. The daughter of a monster. A monster who wants to see me laid out on a surgical table, at his mercy.
“Is there a problem, Miss Rose?” he asks archly.
“Nothing, sir,” I reply, notching my chin up. I can’t show any fear in front of this man, this predator. It’s what he expects: a weak, submissive omega, baring her neck to a strong, dominant alpha. I’ll never bare my neck to my father,not ever again. He can expect me to be meek and demure as much as he wants; I’ll never bow to him again. I may be the Rose omega, but I have thorns, damn it, and I’m not afraid to use them.
When class is finally overand we’re heading to the omega residences, I take Marcus’ hand. “Can we go back to the cottage?” I ask, my voice shaking. While I didn’t show fear in front of my father, it pounds through me now, as loud as my pulse drumming in my ears. I can’t end up on a metal slab like that again, not at my father’s mercy once more, because I know now that he won’t just lock my magic; he’ll steal it, my life be damned.
Marcus pulls me close and kisses my temple. “Of course, sweet-tart.”
Inside the cottage, I kick off my shoes and crawl into the nest on the couch, Marcus taking the spot beside me, and wrapping me in a blanket before taking me into his arms. But I need more than just this closeness from him. I capture his lips in a desperate kiss, hands slipping into his short hair. I fight to hold back my tears with kiss after kiss, needing so badly to stay strong, to not fall apart at the slightest provocation, no matter how grim.
He breaks our kiss to nuzzle my cheek. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re okay. You’re here with me, and you’re okay.” He kisses me again, sweetly, tenderly. Saints, he’s so gentle with me. Until he deepens our kiss, his tongue dancing with mine.
I whine into his kiss, and that only incenses him. He drags me onto his lap just as he did during our picnic, his hands on my hips. He’s hard and ready beneath me, and I wonder howfar he’ll let this go. If today’s the day we’ll finally make love. But no, Marcus is a gentleman. He’ll take this slow.
Not so slow, though. Not so gentlemanly as he traces a finger down my neck before taking one of my breasts in his hand. I arch into him, feeling every hard inch of him. Saints, I need to feel him against me, heat to heat, skin to skin. I need his touch like fire needs oxygen to blaze, and Marcus is already burning me up. I awkwardly throw off my uniform jacket, yank my tie loose, and then fumble with the buttons of my pressed white shirt. He steadies my hands, taking me in, his eyes intent on my breasts. He undoes the rest of the buttons slowly, his gaze only leaving my body to meet my eyes.
