Strange Academy (Hot Paranormal Romance) (29 page)

“Henry, here’s a hall pass.” She passed it to him. “The rest will have to wait.”

Words rushed out of Henry. “It doesn’t have a name.”

What the crap? She stared at him, bewildered.

“The raven,” he said. “The raven doesn’t have a name.”

The raven...She looked at the chalkboard. Someone had drawn a crude box around the question she’d written there three days earlier and added the letters ‘P.L.O.’ for Please Leave On.

In her seat near the door, Dot raised her hand, the black paperback still in it. When Sadie read the title, triumph coursed through her. A desire to pump her fist in the air came over her.
The Collected Works of Edgar Allen Poe
.

“Well,” she said. “Does anyone else have an opinion? Dot?”

“The raven says its name is ‘Nevermore,’” Dot said.

Henry nearly leapt from his chair. “That’s what—”

“Henry.” She used her best authoritative tone. “Raise your hand if you have something to say.”

He blushed to the roots of his ginger hair. Whom did he remind her of? It really bugged her now. “The raven says ‘nevermore’ to everything.”

She nodded to Carmina’s raised hand. “I like this poem. It scared me a little, but there is nothing scary in it.”

“The unknown can be scary. Poe leaves us to imagine the worst.” They seemed to want to talk about it. “What happens in
The Raven
? Shakti?”

The red dot between her eyebrows crumpled as her forehead furrowed. “A man sits alone in a house, a talking bird flies in a window and will not leave.” Shakti shrugged. “Nothing more.”

“Right,” she agreed. “But the bird reminds the narrator of Lenore.”

“What happened to Lenore?” Anita asked.

“Ah, it’s a mystery.” Sadie walked between the desks.

“Mystery?” Nikkos asked. Iffie sat on his lap and nipped at his school tie.

“Edgar Allen Poe wrote the first detective story, you know. This poem makes me curious. I find myself looking for clues.”

“What clues?” Lee Sun asked.

“Let’s look at the second stanza,” she suggested. “What words jump out? Just say them. Don’t bother raising your hand.”

“Dying,” Althea said.

“Ghost,” Findlay said.

“Lenore’s dead.” Anita bit her lip.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sterling clutch his stomach. “Sterling? Does your tummy hurt?”

He nodded, radiating misery.

“Henry, see if Mr. Gray is in his classroom. Nikkos, have the office call his cell phone. Put your head down, Sterling.” She moved over to his desk and whispered to him, “Your uncle will be here soon.”

As worried as she was, she couldn’t stop the class. After ten minutes about the mysterious Lenore, she asked a question. “What about the narrator? What do we know about him?”

“The raven is his guilt.” Sadie started at the deep voice and turned to see Gray in the doorway. “He murdered Lenore.”

In a few strides, he was at Sterling’s side, his hand on his nephew’s hair. He whispered something in Sterling’s ear and guided him out of the room. If only Gray were that devoted to her, but she’d be lucky if he ever said hello to her in public.

Gray and guilt. A raven and a stress knot. Something bothered her, but she couldn’t make anything of it.

She shook off her dark thoughts while her class discussed Gray’s opinion. She gave up the hand-raising thing and let them talk. It wasn’t too chaotic.

The bell rang. Hadn’t the period just started? Sadie blinked at the clock. No, class was over. Time had flown like a raven through the night’s plutonian shore.

The students still sat at their desks. “Don’t you guys have to go to your next class?” she asked.

“Am I right?” Henry asked. “What’s the raven’s name?”

“No one’s right or wrong when it comes to books, Henry. We can only look for clues the author left for us,” she told them.

A murmur went through the class as they considered this.

Nikkos had his pen poised, hovering over his notebook. “Miss Strange, what’s the next mystery?”

“Oh. Right.” Crap! They wanted another one. Well, why not? It made the class go faster.

She raised the chalk to the board. She heard the scritch of pens on paper behind her as she wrote, and smiled.

*

***

******

****

*

The road was a ribbon of moonlight...

That night, sitting in a circle of artificial light cast by her aunt’s amber lamp, Sadie ran her finger over the words in the thick poetry anthology.
The Highwayman
. Alfred Noyes. A great poem. She could find a mystery for the kids here. She concentrated on the poem as a kind of escape from memories of Gray in overprotective-uncle mode, taking care of Sterling.

The highwayman was a terrific hero, and a snappy dresser to boot. She closed her eyes as she pictured him astride his horse in the moonlight, his rapier-hilt a-twinkle.

Her ears pressurized.

Her lover’s trousers fit with nary a wrinkle, sending quivers through her own thighs. She caught the scent of cinnamon and musk as he rode up to the window where she braided her hair.

A Roman nose dominated his face. Waves of black hair cascaded onto his collar. The highwayman cupped leather-covered fingers around the back of her skull. Her heart skipped with anticipation of the kiss. The reflection of her candle danced in his unflinching gray eyes. He pulled her to him and buried his nose in the soft hair of her nape.

“Come to me by moonlight.” His deep voice caressed the skin of her throat. His breath sent shivers through her.

“Though Hell should bar the way,” she answered.

Sadie opened her eyes, but the voice...
Come to me
, it demanded. She shoved back from the table. She needed Gray.

 She slipped out her door into the darkened hallway, her heart thudding in her chest. She ran down the hall, not caring who could see her. Her kimono whipped at her legs and threatened to trip her. Every second she wasn’t with him was agony. Her need to be with him overwhelmed her aching body and drove her down the stairs to the third floor.

Though Hell should bar the way.

The minutes dragged until she finally reached his door. Sadie saw Thalia and cursed the muse for being in the way. She ducked under the muse’s crook and wrenched the door handle. It swung open. Only after she shut it did the ache inside her stop.

Shadows played in the corners of the room. Flickers of candlelight skittered around the ring of white powder in front of her. Smoke from the candles weaved upward. A fierce power charged the atmosphere.

Gray sat in a magic circle, candlelight playing on his skin. His dark body glowed. His broad shoulders, lean belly, and brawny thighs were naked except for a slip of royal blue silk shrouding his lap. The ribbon from her panties lay on top. Sweat beaded on his impressive chest. Dark lashes rested on his cheeks. This wasn’t like his potions. It was more like...voodoo.

He was still, except for silently chanting lips.
Come to me. Come to me. Come to me
.

Her body dampened. Weakness overcame her and her legs gave out, sending her crashing to her knees. She crawled toward him, desperation straining every muscle.

She burned for him. Only he could douse the fire. She reached toward the circle. A spell. He was making her want him with a spell.

“Gray,” she begged, “please touch me.”

The chanting stopped. His eyes opened slowly, as if he were coming out of a deep trance. Gray rose to his full height. The silk from his lap fluttered to the floor, revealing his sex, thick and half-hard. He towered over her.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice croaked. “I want you.”

He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a piece of paper. The floor dropped away. She threw her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his silky black hair. She shivered at his touch and burned deep inside.

A love spell. He’d threatened it before. She felt her inhibitions draining away under his spell—and his touch. She let them go. She wasn’t responsible for her actions. Her tight control fell away and she let her hands roam his skin.

Gray kicked open the door of his bedroom and flung her onto his hotel-crisp sheets. He tumbled on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. While she was still breathless from the fall, he caught her in a deep, searching kiss that lanced heat through her body.

She moaned and arched as he slid his head inside her kimono. Nothing mattered but the heated sensation of moisture on her breast. His tongue licked and flicked one tight nipple while the rough pads of his fingers pinched and teased the other. Both sent snaps of pleasure to the growing need between her thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, peeling her kimono off her shoulders and tasting the exposed skin with his tongue.

He was gorgeous himself, she thought as he peppered kisses along her hairline. Unbelievable. Wide chested and slim hipped, he was built like one of the superheroes in her comic books. A million years could pass and she’d never tire of touching him.

He reached into his nightstand and pulled out a glass vial. He flipped off the stopper with his thumb. The scent of lemons filled the room.

The prophylactic potion. “You kept one,” she said.

“I figured you’d probably throw yourself at me like this.”

She ignored his joke, safe in the knowledge she wasn’t responsible for the way she was feeling toward him. He reached between them and she felt the wetness of the potion slick her already-moist sex.

He followed seconds later, sliding deep inside. She arched her back, pushing her stomach against his flat abs as her insides stretched around his cock.

As he stroked her body, inside and out, the love spell worked its magic on her heart. She imagined his strong arms holding her forever, protecting her from the unknown.

She squeezed his shaft with her inner muscles, wringing a wordless cry of appreciation from him. The tension built inside her until a single thrust put her over the edge. His climax came with hers. They shattered together. Gray collapsed next to her, breathing as hard as she did.

Not long after, she felt the love spell wither. Reality smashed back like a sumo wrestler walking through a paper wall. With effort, she lifted her jelly legs from Gray’s bed. Burana had warned her to be careful, and she’d ignored that great advice. He could bend you to his will, the count had said.

Yeah, no shit.

“What are you doing?”

What do you think?
she wanted to scream at him. “I have to go.” She searched the floor for her kimono, suddenly ashamed of her naked body.

“It’s early. No one knows you’re here. Stay.”

“Stay?” Repressed anger came bubbling to the surface as she slid her arms into the kimono. “With a man who uses a love spell on me when I say no?” It took effort not to shout. How could she be around someone who took away her choices so casually, as if she’d never had a choice in the first place?

He vaulted across the bed and caught her wrists. She turned her gaze to the floor. “I’d never do that. You have to believe me. The spell draws your lover to you. Everything else tonight was you.”

Her eyes went hot. Damn. It was worse than she thought. Instead of being betrayed by a man she didn’t care for, this meant she had betrayed herself.

“What’s wrong with me, Gray? Why do I choose men who treat me like crap?” She barely whispered the words. “Do I hate myself?”

He swallowed as if he had something in his throat as he wiped the tears on her face with a rough thumb. “It’s humiliating to think that realizing you want me makes you cry.”

“I can imagine.” She let him fold her to his chest and wrap protective arms around her.

“I don’t think you can.”

“Does it feel like being punched in the stomach?” she asked. “Because that’s what being shoved in a closet feels like.”

He dropped his head into the hollow of her neck. “I’m not doing this to hurt you. I have enemies, Sadie. If they knew we were together, you’d be vulnerable.”

She knew she should go. She knew the last thing she should do was let Gray draw her back into his bed, spoon her to his side, and stroke her hair. But her need for comfort overruled what her brain knew and she ended up lying in Gray’s arms, even though he was the reason she needed comfort.

For a time, the only sound in the room was their breathing. Sadie imagined the rest of the world didn’t exist. That Gray wasn’t engaged to a woman who could give him babies with superpowers. That she herself was actually a decent teacher. That Chloë had forgiven her and would bring Moira to visit.

Good dreams. But dreams, still.

She heard the slide of a drawer, maybe from his bedside table. “Here,” he said. “Take this.”

She opened an eye to see a small cloth bag dangling in front of her face. Part of the pink ribbon from her panties dangled out of it.

The fabric was rough to the touch, and she felt various mysterious lumps inside it. By the way her ears popped, she had a feeling she didn’t want to know what they were. “It’s a charm?”

“A
gris-gris
. Don’t take it off,” he said.

And don’t let anyone see it, he didn’t have to add.

The drawstrings of the bag were long enough to go around her neck. She put it over her head.

“Alchemy is from my father’s side,” he told her. “Voodoo from my mother’s. This should help guard you against any more wandering bad luck spells. Just in case you’re right and someone is using you for spell target practice.”

Did he really believe her now? She decided to pretend that he did. “What will it do?”

“General good luck. Plus, if there’s trouble, I’ll know it.” The look he gave her made her breath catch. “I’ll come running.”

“Thanks,” was all she could manage. “What did Danial say about Sterling’s stomach?”

Gray became very interested in the ceiling.

“You
did
take your nephew to the nurse,” she said.

“It’s just a stomach ache,” Gray said dismissively. “He’s a strong kid. He’s from the Gray House.”

“Right.” She fought to keep the anger out of her voice. “Your stress knot’s back. Want me to massage it?”