At least I thought we were together... but it turned out I was wrong about that, too.
I looked back and forth before gently pulling on a book titledTrappings of the Fae.
Which I always thought was poetic, considering the tales of the Fae that centered around underground tunnels and pathways...
I swear, if people just looked they’d know where to find lots of secrets.
I hurried into the sliver of opening that was available to me. Time was always of the essence, especially if you were sneaking around.
I’d learned that the hard way too, when I’d almost gotten caught by Professor O’Connor the second time I’d tried to get in with my ex-friend-with-benefits, Wanda Fischman, one of the other legacies. Sometimes, it was just better to be alone.
Especially when the last thing I wanted was to be interrupted during...
My insides twisted as my beast threatened to rise up, the rest of my body fighting the lust that lured it to the surface.
My cockachedin my uniform pants, swelling and thickening to the point I was worried I’d rip them if I didn’t get out of them sooner rather than later.
And I really don’t want to have to submit for a new uniform before the year has even started.
“You’ve got this, Bane, this isn’t your first fucking rodeo,” I said to myself, trying to calm the monster inside of me.
But it was no use, and I knew it.
And I hated that.
In the mildewy, murky caverns it was claustrophobic. Where I needed to go, wasn’t far, but it seemed like an eternity until I’d get there.
Finally, after power-walking my way through the dark, shadowed tunnel, I found my destination.
My Granddad once told me the cells underneath Blackthorn were used to hold unruly students who had gotten too cocky or who were a danger to their peers. Sort of like solitary confinement for the magically inclined. The cells themselves were imbued to keep the magic of the imprisonedin.This way, a student could exhaust themselves and their power until they were blue in the face, but nothing could release them except the caster who’d put them there.
Or if they knew where to find the key...
Again, most things were easy to find if you used your brain to look for them.
I slid into my cell—or rather what I had come to callmycell, if only because it was the one I always went to when I visited the secret underground.
Most people would have assumed this magical prison was much like the prisons of the medieval times, but they’d be wrong. Because the cells down here, despite their properties, were actually quite posh. Though there was an air of elegance to the cells that the main floors didn’t have.
I barely shut the door, leaving it open just a crack, before my demon had had enough of this human form. I threw my books down on the desk in the corner first, as the energy to shift form ransacked me.
I slid off my jacket, ripping my white shirt off as I felt my pecs stretch, my waist thicken. The familiar burning of my markings—the magical tattoo of tribal-like sigils that formed across my chest and shoulders when I was in my true form—pushed forth, bringing with it the sense of pain and relief I’d become accustomed to when I shifted forms. It hurt, it always hurt, but it was agoodhurt. Because it meant I wasfree.
Or the monster in me, anyway.
The seams of my pants started to pull as my thighs stretched, pushing them past their limit. I hurriedly unbuckled my belt, sliding my pants and tight briefs down to the floor, letting my cock spring free as it doubled in size like the rest of me, just in time for my full form to take over.
The rush of my body growing, from my chest to my cock was welcome and full of relief. My cock throbbed with need, all the blood rushing to my thick knot, precum already starting to form at my head in preparation for what it knew it needed to do, but there was no one for me to take my lust out on in the carnal, physical form I needed. No warm, tight pussy to stretch or mouth to fuck. It was just me and my hand. Which wouldn’t be so bad if I had been regularly taking care of my... needs.
But I’d forgone pleasure after Anne’s death, even by my own hands.
Unfortunately, I knew there was no way out of this lust-haze, except through. I was already shifted, the lustful energy running through me like an electrical current.
I grabbed myself, feeling the weight of my cock as I stroked my length. Instinctively, I let out a deep groan of relief. The velvet skin against my heated palm caused an influx of lust energy to ebb and I squeezed myself tightly, my hips rocking forward of their own volition. My knot had already started to form, which made the sensation and instinct both so much better and so much worse. My wings begged to pop, and somewhere in my half-human brain, I knew if I let them extend I’d make a damn mess of things.
But the desire to do what was natural for me was hard to fight. Instead, I focused on the heaviness of my cock, the tingle of my knot as lustful energy and blood fueled my momentary heat.
When I’d gone into my first heat, I was a mess. Every little sight of cleavage, every fantasy I formed, every image or thought my imaginative teenage mind formed, every groan or moan I elicited from my partners, was enough to get my knot swollen. And it happenedoften.
