Page 123 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

“Do you feel it?” My voice was rough, the words barely audible over the pounding in my ears. “The way you call to me? Tous?”

I doubt she understands my emphasis on “us” and right now, that’s not important.

Nothing is really important but her right now.

Her lips parted, a faint tremor passing through her as the golden light of the bond mark flared brighter.

“I feel it,” she whispers, her voice shaky but resolute. “It’s…overwhelming…but good?” Her hesitation isn’t subjected to what is obviously going to occur if I fail to delay this any longer, and how that simply further riles me up with need.

I let out a low growl, my fingers tightening on her waist as I fought the urge to give in completely.

The power of the bond wasn’t just overwhelming; it was consuming. It demanded more than touch, more than connection.

It demanded everything.

Whenever my friends and comrades used to speak of their bonds, they could speak hours of this gravitational pull that made it seem impossible to concentrate unless confronted and tamed.

I’d roll my eyes, the commentary but fairytales in my standpoint, but here I am, finally experiencing what they had spoken of many years ago.

Leaning down, I brushed my lips against hers, soft at first, testing the waters. Her sharp inhale was all the encouragement I needed — my lips claiming hers in a heartbeat, sending hums of bliss through me.

This isn’t a reaction I’m used to.

To feel alive and untouchable with her in my arms.

The kiss deepened, growing in intensity as I poured my magic into it, unable to hold it back any longer. My arms wrap around her waist, pressing her against me, feeling how small she is against me.

The air around us crackled with energy, the kitchen lights flickering as my power bled into the space around us.

Her hands slid up my chest, her fingers grazing the glowing runes etched into my skin. The contact sent a shiver through me, and I groaned against her lips, my control slipping even further.

Fae aren’t used to physical touch. We’re the type that everyone enjoys viewing from afar. Witnessing our perfection and acknowledging how being accepted into our space is but a privilege.

I wouldn’t consider a hybrid as unique as a vampire witch would be able to cross that boundary so quickly, and yet here I am, lost in the sweet taste of her mouth that doesn’t hesitate to affirm what she wants.

To kiss me back with as much vigor as me.

Each brush of her fingertips ignited a fire that spread through my veins, burning away the last vestiges of restraint.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to rest my forehead against hers. My voice is thick with emotion, my breaths uneven. “This bond…it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. So powerful…and dangerous.”

To be fair, I never paid attention to how exactly such a connection can benefit us. How being connected to another could push us to the next level in our paranormal world.

Many flaunt their bonds, but there’s very little spoken about the fruits it bears.

Pulling back enough when we’re both breathless messes, I watch the way her eyes narrow as she lifts her chin slightly, the trembling hesitation in her expression giving way to something fierce.

“You know…I have no clue what these bonds entail at all,” she confesses, her voice steady despite how breathless it seems we are after that heated exchange. “But I’m not some fragile weakling, Nikolai.”

I can’t even try to fight the smile that grows upon my sinful lips, surely making my eyes twinkle with hints of mischief. I love defiance when I see it. That stubborn uncertainty in the depths of those pupils that don’t want to back down.

That don’t want to be deemed weak and pitiful.

“Stop treating me like I’ll break.”

Her words struck me like a blow, the challenge in her tone sharp and unyielding. It was enough to make me pause, to see her not as the fragile, radiant creature I’d been observing like a fascinating pet but as the warrior she’s attempting to project.

Normally such turns me off, and yet her way of executing such control only lights that burning fire. Her magic surged, brushing against mine in a way that felt like a spark catching fire.

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