Page 126 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

There's nothing hesitant or restrained about it. His lips claim mine with passionate intensity, shadows coiling around us like a protective cocoon as his tongue slides against mine in a dance that sends heat racing through my entire body.

I respond instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to steady myself against the unexpected onslaught of sensation.

"Is this the new way of...saying goodbye?" Zeke asks, genuine confusion evident in his musical voice.

Mortimer's scholarly chuckle provides background to Atticus's irritated mutter.

"No, he's just being a selfish prick of a Duskwalker who wants to find out what it's like to get his ass kicked by a Pureblood."

The comment breaks through the momentary spell, drawing a deep chuckle from Cassius that vibrates against my lips before he slowly pulls away. His thumb traces my lower lip, a shadow tendril following the same path to wipe away the evidence of our connection.

"You won't get more of that unless you survive," he warns, silver eyes gleaming with equal parts mischief and genuine concern. "So do what you clearly do best and escape long enoughfor us to be reunited, Little Mouse. I know you're a pro at escaping."

I groan, pushing him away despite the lingering warmth his touch has left behind.

"Just go already."

"They're just deeply in love and like to share it in times of peril," Mortimer observes with a scholarly detachment that doesn't quite mask his amusement.

"Fuck off," Cassius responds without heat, shadows settling into more conventional patterns as he moves toward the door.

Mortimer approaches next, scholarly reserve momentarily abandoned as he wraps me in a surprisingly warm embrace.

"Thank you for having such a vibrantly kind heart," he says, sincerity evident in every word.

"If that were true, you would have let me bond with you," I counter, unable to completely hide my disappointment at his earlier refusal.

His smile carries wisdom beyond mere academic knowledge. "I'll take you up on that offer next time," he promises with an unexpected wink.

"There better not be a next time," I huff, crossing my arms with mock severity. "We shouldn't have to deal with this cyclical nonsense in Year Three. That wouldn't be creative enough of them."

"Agreed," he chuckles, scholarly facade softening into genuine warmth before he follows Cassius toward the exit.

Zeke approaches last, his newly formed bond with me creating subtle golden threads visible only when he moves into direct light.

I wrap my arms around his slender frame, still concerned by how fragile he feels despite the slight improvement following our connection.

"Make sure I can see you when we're departing for the throne," I instruct, protective instinct rising despite knowing he's survived far longer in this environment than I have.

He nods, those extraordinary eyes meeting mine with unguarded emotion I haven't witnessed in him before. He leans closer, lips nearly brushing my ear as he whispers.

"Thank you for being my friend, Gabe."

I pout at the masculine nickname.

"Gabe is kind of cute, but I swear you have to say Gwen when I'm in female form."

His smile transforms his features completely, joy replacing the careful caution that typically guards his expressions.

"I'll keep that in mind for Year Three," he promises before following the others through the doorway.

The moment the door closes behind them, sealing the temporal spell that protects this space from normal flow, I turn to ask Atticus what he wants to discuss.

At least try to turn.

The words never leave my mouth.

His hand wraps around the front of my neck with deliberate pressure that somehow manages to be both possessive and gentle simultaneously. He pulls me backward against his body, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against me with insistent heat.

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