Every Shade of Shadow: A Dark Magic Academy Romance, page 31
He nods, but it’s resigned, almost mournful. “This is a spell that must be fed to maintain. The energy required is astounding. It only exists naturally in one, singular source. I have brought this source to us tonight.”
The thunder booms again.
He lifts his hand, a shimmering portal opening up to his left, but I can’t see what’s beyond it. Could be Nirvana. Could be a pit of needles.
But the trust between us has come so far. Tonight is nothing like the first time I met him in his chambers. Back then I was shivering with fear. Now that fear is gone. Whatever this is, I must ascend if we are to have any chance against Mortis.
“After you,” he says.
I pull in a tight breath, walking to the portal and stepping through.
I emerge into something cold and wet.
The Professor comes through behind me, the portal dissipating.
It takes me a while to get my bearings, but it soon becomes obvious where we are.
I lift my hand to my brow to shield it from the needling rain.
We’re on the roof of the castle.
A bolt of lightning dances, hot white, across the sky, illuminating gray clouds overhead.
The clouds swirl above us, dark and heavy.
The thunder comes again, far more present now.
Another bolt of lightning cuts down into the distant forest, the flash lingering.
The Professor leads me to the center of the roof, my naked flesh protesting in the rain.
"Are you certain you wish to proceed?" He has to raise his voice to be heard over the storm, rough with barely contained desire. "This could kill you, Ana.”
For the first time I see fear in his eyes. Perhaps the elements are out of his control. The other trials were dangerous, yes, but he has always been in control of every single detail.
I lift my chin, squaring my shoulders and blinking out the sheeting rain.
"Shall we begin?" he says.
More lightning cracks the sky, illuminating the shadows that cling to his harsh features.
My core clenches, arousal and fear twisting into a molten heat between my legs. “Yes,” I reply.
He grabs my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. His teeth graze my skin, a sharp sting that makes me gasp. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, Master." The words spill from my lips, raw and wanting.
"Good girl." He releases me, eyes gleaming with dark promise. "Now, the spell."
His wand materializes in his hand, the same he once pressed into my ass. He gives a single nod, raising it to the sky. “Tempest Umbramortis. Repeat it”
I close my eyes, heartbeat thundering in my veins as I chant the forbidden words of magic. The air around us crackles and burns, energy building with each syllable.
The rain on my skin sizzles and for a moment I feel horribly, desperately ill, but it passes. When I open my eyes, a shimmering veil of purple light surrounds our bodies. I marvel at it, completely lost for words.
My hair is matted to my face, the rain streaming down my body, but I feel Damien. I feel all of him—the pain, the relentless pursuit of it, of justice and the horrible mechanics required to bring it. I see things of such depravity, such pure, unfiltered evil it’s hard to believe.
But that vulnerability I have been sensing, it’s wide open here. And it’s me. I am his weakness. His thoughts of me, his protectiveness, at all costs, speak volumes.
He’s watched me for so long, waited…and here I am.
“Now you see,” he says, taking my hand.
The Professor looks to the sky as lightning arcs across it, webbing its way over the clouds. "It’s time."
He lunges forward and shoves me to the ground.
I hit the stone tiles hard, breath leaving my lungs in a startled gasp. Before I can react, he’s on top of me, pinning my wrists above my head and staring down into my eyes.
I feel it—that insatiable need for control and the dopamine hit that follows. This is different from the gender swap. This goes far beyond that.
I am him. He is me.
We are one.
"Did I not warn you this would push you to your limits?" His voice is a low growl, hips grinding into mine. The rain stings my eyes and I have to blink away the droplets just to maintain eye contact with him. "You belong to me now, Ana, and I to you, my Shadow Queen."
I arch into him, my legs spreading desperate for his touch. The energy surrounding us intensifies, crackling over my skin in waves of sensation. Our thoughts and emotions bleed into one another through the spell, lust and power and something deeper still, an all-consuming need that threatens to devour me whole.
He claims my mouth, biting my lower lip. I cry out at the bright flare of pain, and his thoughts surge into mine. The pain loops back, feeds into itself.
“You're mine now,” he says, “mine for all eternity. I will break you and remake you, bind your power to my will. You will surrender everything to me, your master, as I take my pleasure from your willing flesh.”
The words sear into my mind, dark ecstasy and promise of sweet corruption. I am lost, adrift in the cyclone of our joined consciousness. There is no Ana, no Damien, only pleasure and power, pushing the limits of what our mortal forms can endure.
He latches onto my breast, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, that luminous, purple haze drawing across my skin.
I scream. But it is not a scream of protest. It is the scream of a woman surrendering at last, embracing her own darkness, her own desire.
Another bolt lights up the sky, the Professor backlit in a ghoulish silhouette.
"Yes," I moan, twisting to grant him better access. "Take everything.”
Triumph flashes through our connection, a surge of pure dominance that makes me whimper.
With a click of his fingers, his clothes are stripped away until he is as bare as I am, that beautiful body in wait, cock fiercely erect.
“Now,” he says, let us see how much power you can channel before you break.”
The sky cracks open above us, rumbles in communication with its master.
He turns to me, eyes burning into mine.
My heart pounds. I am ready to face the unknown. I am ready to be consumed by magic and passion until nothing remains of the poor, weak girl I once was.
She’s gone.
Dead.
I nod.
The Professor begins the second part of the spell, his voice rising and falling in a hypnotic cadence. The air around us is lit with energy, lightning flashing across the inky sky above.
A current races over my skin as the spell intensifies, setting every nerve ending aflame, chasing away any hint of moisture there. I gasp at the sensation, pain and pleasure twisting together until I can no longer tell them apart.
The rain falls harder, a million pinpricks that land on my charged skin and evaporate just as fast.
Our bodies press together, heat and magic radiating between us. He enters me in one swift thrust, stretching and filling me.
A strangled cry escapes my throat. The spell has made me hyperaware of every sensation, magnifying it a thousand times. I feel the ridges and heat of him inside me, the scrape of the wet stone against my back, the hot burn of energy in the air.
Overwhelmed, I cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders. He begins to move, slowly at first before gaining speed and force. Each stroke sends a shock through me, as if electrified. His body gluing to mine, his groin rubs into my clit. My eyes stay open, my brain struggling to accept the immenseness of my arousal. Darkwood is plunging in and out of me, groaning in my face as he stimulates my clit.
But stimulating? No. That’s not it.
He’s setting me on fire.
The storm rages above, wind and rain lashing at our bare skin. But I am only aware of him, of the relentless, punishing rhythm that drives me ever closer to the edge.
Suddenly, he rises, lifting his head. “I’m sorry,” he says.
I lift my own. “For wha—”
But I never get the word out. The whole world goes white, an intense, impossible heat following. I’m momentarily blinded and deafened—stripped of sight and sound. My entire body goes stiff, a searing pain starting in my legs and making its way upwards until the pain is pure and sickening.
I go to scream, but my jaw is locked in place. Whatever heart I had, it’s been burnt to a crisp. I’m sure of it.
But when I open my eyes, when my heartbeat finally kicks back into motion and my lungs do what they’re supposed to, I see Damien smiling.
And the power…
Holy fucking hell.
The power is incredible.
“How am I not dead?” I whimper.
Darkwood reaches down, pushing a wet tendril of hair from my eyes. “The spell. Each strike will only add to your power.”
The thought of taking another hit like that fills me with a sick dread, but there’s a deeper longing for it—a desperation.
I claw into his back. “Again.”
“Not so soon.”
I press harder into his flesh. “I can take it.”
He speaks again.
This time I see it—the bolt of lightning as it drives down to us, the blinding column of it before it strikes.
The pain is indescribable. It’s a solid, churning, molten core of fire and heat that goes to the very center of my body. A pulsing, throbbing web of pure pain funnels out. It’s like being on fire from the inside out.
It’s like I’m being burned alive.
I will it to end, the pain all I know, but it slowly filters away until all that’s left is a lingering discomfort. In its wake the shadows return energized, more powerful than ever.
Darkwood growls, lips pressed to my ear. His thrusts become savage, nearly unbearable. "Do you feel it, little lamb?”
I gasp for air, for mercy, for release. "Yes," I choke out. "I feel it."
Damien slams into me, hard and fast, rubbing my most sensitive flesh raw with each punishing thrust. At the same time, lightning strikes my body again, jolting my nerves with agonizing pleasure. I scream silently again, the line between pain and ecstasy obliterated, my spine kicking off the stone so hard I worry it will snap in two.
It’s hard to breathe, to find the air my body so desperately needs.
Endure, my head says. Go all the way. You can’t give up now.
Our hips grind together, magic and flesh fused as one. The lightning intensifies, another bolt tearing through me, but I only beg for more. "Harder," I moan. "More.”
Damien obliges, quickening his pace and sending another burst of power through the connection between our minds. My back arches, muscles locking in spasms of bliss and anguish. I hover at the brink of oblivion, clinging to the fraying thread of my consciousness.
There’s an inorganic, ozone smell in the air that’s thick and cloying. It’s that clean, crisp smell of springtime rain, but more concentrated, focused.
"You're close," he rasps, eyes glowing with demonic delight. "Let go, my love, and give yourself over."
I stare up at him, trembling and dazed, but defiance still flickers within me.
I’m basically deaf, can barely breathe or have the energy to remain conscious, but I manage two words.
"Make me."
A fierce grin follows over his face.
The next bolt of lightning steals my breath and shatters my senses. For a single, endless moment, I know nothing but the scream tearing from my raw throat and the agony rending my body and mind.
Then…bliss.
Rapture unlike anything I've experienced before floods my veins. Our magic, our bodies, our consciousness—all fuse into a single point of perfect ecstasy.
His cock runs deeper, bottoming out inside me.
I am no more, adrift in sensation, in power, in him.
Distantly, I sense Damien finding his release, exploding inside me.
“More,” slips from my lips.
A final, blinding flash—and the world goes black.
*
I come awake with a gasp, bolting upright.
I'm back in my room. I’m alive.
There is no sign of the storm, no thunder…I’m sore, kind of feel like I’ve been left in an oven for too long, but I’m in one piece.
I touch a hand to my chest, wincing at the tenderness of my skin.
I see myself in the mirror on the wall.
My chest, arm…
There’s a fern-like pattern running down it right to my wrist. Fresh scarring. I trace my fingers over it, wincing as they make contact with my singed flesh.
“A Lichtenberg scar, from the lightning,” says a voice from the corner of the room. “I’m afraid it’s permanent.”
Tears escape me. “It’s beautiful.”
The Professor steps forward. “How do you feel?”
I do a mental check. Whatever connection of consciousness we had on the roof has faded, but I feel no pain. Only power—raw, dark energy that thrums beneath my skin. I have never felt so alive, so attuned to the magic around me. I can sense each flicker of energy in the walls, feel the flow of power as students cast simple spells downstairs.
A slow smile spreads across my lips.
Damien moves to seat himself beside me on the bed, taking my face in his hands.
"I knew you were ready," he says softly.
I meet his gaze, spine straightening. "I was." My voice emerges stronger, laced with authority. "And now no power is beyond my reach."
Darkwood's lips curve. "Is that so?" he laughs, pulling me into an embrace.
I nestle deeper into it, savoring the quiet intimacy. His heart beats steadily under my ear.
Exhaustion seeps into my bones, the aftermath of our magical and physical exertions combining to drain what little strength I have left. My eyelids droop, too heavy to remain open.
"Rest now," he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You have more than earned it, my pet."
I don't protest. For once, the insatiable curiosity and ambition that constantly drive me have been satisfied. There is nothing left but the peace and the solace of his arms.
Within moments, I drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I’m alone when I wake, but I can still feel the echo of Damien's presence, like a brand seared into my soul. I stretch, wincing now at the soreness between my legs and the faint ache in my muscles.
Struck by lightning.
I don’t recall seeing that in the brochure.
I get out of bed and stand in front of the mirror.
My skin is mottled with bruises in the shape of his fingers and mouth.
A surge of heat races through me at the sight, desire, and possession warring for dominance. He has marked me, claimed me so completely that I will never be free of him again.
One man, twice my age, scarring me like this? The thought should frighten me. Instead, it only makes me crave his touch more. I want nothing else but to give myself to him, again and again, until there is no part of me left unclaimed.
For a moment, I don't recognize the woman staring back at me. Gone is the uncertain girl who first came to Lumina, so naïve and pathetic. In her place is a sorceress awakened, heavy with power.
I meet my reflection's gaze and smile. I raise my hand up to my neck and trace the love bites, down to the new scarring that runs from my breast right down my entire arm.
Damien Darkwood has given me a gift beyond price, one that has transformed me forever.
I will spend the rest of my life proving I am worthy of it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It’s the day of the witches’ ball, a certain flurry of activity overtaking the Academy. With the promise of flowing alcohol, terrible dancing, and drunken sex to follow, the gloom that has fallen over the Academy these last weeks is all but forgotten.
Frankly, if Isadora is Mortis or not, I intend to enjoy myself tonight—something I’ve done very little of since I arrived, my encounters with Damien aside.
As for my suspicions about the Headmistress, I’ll take them to the Professor after the ball. If he decides to reward me with that expert tongue of his, so be it. For now, I think there’s a certain safety in numbers.
Lily arrives at my door an hour before the ball looking far from the carefree girl I first met. Even the once vibrant pink in her hair seems dimmer now.
“What happened to you?” I ask, ushering her in. “Shouldn’t you be with—”
Ava walks in behind her.
Lily gives me a loose smile. “So here we are, the three amigos.”
I have to smile at that. “Belles of the ball.”
Lily gives me a light snort. “You’ll have to fight Cassandra for that honor, and no, I don’t mean actually fuck her up again.”
I raise my hands. Power prickles to my fingertips. Since last night I’ve felt fucking electric—untouchable. “It’s fine. I’m done with Cassandra.”
“You sure?” questions Ava, picking at something on her shirt, which reads ‘Who Killed Marilyn?’
“If the Headmistress is Mortis, we’ll deal with her. I’ll go to Darkwood after the ball and come up with a plan.”
“I thought we weren’t sure?” asks Ava.
I pull in a breath. “When we were leaving her office the other night, I touched her robe on the way out, and I felt something.”
“Rabies?” Lily offers.
“No, but something seriously, seriously dark. Add that to the lock, seeing her after the second murder…”
I recall something else from touching her robe, something I’ve been unable to recollect until now. “I don’t think these murders are Mortis eliminating threats; I think it’s a way for her, him, whatever, to grow their power. Each kill makes them stronger.”
“Fuck,” exclaims Lily.
“So if the Headmistress is Mortis,” I continue, “we need to find a way to take her out before she becomes too powerful. Who knows how long she’s been at this, how powerful she has become.”
Lily laughs. “You can’t be serious. I thought we were all about defense, not offense.”
I shrug. “Well, not alone, no, but I might have picked up a thing or two with Damien.”
“Like how to gobble cock?” Lily says.
