Page 27 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

Every instinct for self-preservation should be screaming at me to retreat. To put distance between myself and this creature of shadow and death who looks at me like he wants to consume me whole.

Instead, I curse under my breath.

"Fuck you, smartass."

My hands fist in his shirt, yanking him down those last crucial inches until our lips come crashing together.

No one survives a Duskwalker’s touch, and here I am, having every intention of getting drilled by him if it’s my last breath.

5

BURNING FROST AND SOOTHING FLAME

~CASSIUS~

The moment her lips touched mine, the world stilled.

For centuries, I had walked the desolate path of shadows and frost, untethered and unfeeling. I had long accepted that my existence would never know warmth — never know fire.

Yet here she was.

A reckless hybrid with the audacity to crash through centuries of carefully constructed barriers.

She’d initiated this madness, and I had every reason to pull away. Every logical thought in my head screamed to stop, to sever this tether she was attempting to forge between us. This connection was forbidden; an affront to the natural order.

And yet…

I couldn’t stop.

My hands rose of their own accord, sliding along the curve of her waist and drawing her closer. The soft heat of her body pressed against mine, a tantalizing contradiction to the icy shadows that had always cloaked me.

My fingers roamed her sides, mapping the exquisite lines of her form as if she were a secret meant only for me.

So soft. So warm.

How could someone like her exist in my world of cold, unyielding darkness? The warmth of her skin seeped into my fingertips, spreading through me like wildfire. It was a dangerous, addictive sensation, one I hadn’t realized I craved until now.

“This is wrong,” I murmured against her lips, even as my mouth betrayed me, moving with hers in perfect sync. She tasted of forbidden things—of blood and danger, of fire and rebellion.

“Doesn’t seem to be stopping you,” she retorted, her voice breathless, teasing. Her hands slid up to tangle in my hair, pulling me deeper into this madness.

I groaned, the sound torn from deep within my chest. She was right,damn her.Every argument I had dissolved the moment her tongue brushed against mine.

My control, honed over centuries, splintered like glass.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Duskwalkers didn’t succumb to mortal lust. We didn’t give in to the primal needs that plagued lesser beings. We were creatures of death and frost, beings beyond the touch of warmth or desire.

And yet here I was, drowning in her fire.

My hands moved of their own volition, trailing down her back, memorizing every dip and curve. She was impossibly soft beneath my touch, her skin like silk warmed by the sun. My fingers brushed the bare expanse of her thigh, and a fresh wave of heat surged through me. It was intoxicating, maddening.

I wanted more —needed more.

She tilted her head back, breaking the kiss only to gasp for air, her chest heaving against mine. Her lips were swollen, her eyes glazed with a mix of defiance and desire.

The sight of her, so utterly undone and yet so resolute, was enough to drive me mad.

---