“Excuse me?” I interrupted his rudeness.
Orion's eyes flicked up. “Yes?”
“Well, it's just that apparently I'm standing in your office looking like a swamp monster and watching you get drunk.”
“That does appear to be happening, yes. Very observant, Blue. Or perhaps I should call you Brown now?” He nearly choked on his laughter at his own joke.
God this guy was a piece of work.
I placed my hands on my hips and he tried to rein in his laughter as he stared at me – he did not manage it.
“Right, screw this.” I marched toward the door, done with this day and every bastard I'd encountered during it. How could I have thought for one second that this teacher would help me? I had to remember the faculty in Zodiac were as heartless as the students.
As I grabbed the door handle, the mud on my skin heated with a punishing warmth. I winced as it was scraped off of me inch by inch then washed away by a stream of water that wrapped around my skin like a film. The combined magic dragged the mud from my flesh and it sailed right out of the window.
Relief swept through me as my body was cleaned of the muck and my hair fell about me in a soft fan of blue and black.
As I turned to Orion to thank him, a harsh wind forced me back against the door. I had to shut my eyes against the onslaught of air and my heart raced as I was held in place.
When the wind died away, I blinked a few times and found Orion standing before me. The scent of bourbon floated from him. He was frighteningly tall and all those muscles made me weak, but he was still just another asshole with a pretty face.
“Thank you,” I forced out.
“Your gratitude isn't what I want.” He snatched my arm and in one, single heartbeat I knew what he was going to do. My thoughts went haywire and my body tumbled into panic mode. Before I realised what I was doing, my hand smashed against his face and a loud clap filled the room.
Oh holy shit I just slapped a teacher.
The moment following my strike lasted for two whole eternities. Orion stared at me and I stared right back. His cheek was pinking with the imprint of my hand and he lifted his fingers to touch the mark as if he was unsure whether it had actually happened.
My tongue was a desperately dry lump of flesh but I managed to speak in a hoarse voice. “Don't bite me.”
He leaned down so he was nose to nose with me and the heavenly scent of cinnamon sailed from his skin, tangling with the sharpness of bourbon on his breath.
His lips pursed and all amusement fled from his expression. “How are you going to stop me?” he asked as if he genuinely wanted an answer out of me. I suddenly felt like I was in a quiz.
I took a slow breath, the proximity of him making my thoughts harder to grasp than usual. “I know how to wield air. I can push you back.”
“Are you sure about that?” He shifted closer, opening his mouth to reveal the sharp points of his fangs.
I shook my head. “Honestly? No. But I'm asking you not to and I'm telling you I'll try to fight you if you do.” My voice barely quavered and I gave myself a mental pat on the back considering the night I'd had. Small victories and all.
Orion stepped away, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. I tried to move around him but he snatched my arm and sliced his fangs into my skin. I gasped in horror, bringing up my other hand as I tried to will magic into my fingers. But I couldn't focus and the second my hand got close, he slammed it against the door behind me. The hard plain of his chest flattened me to the wood and I winced as his bite deepened, my heart hammering like a rabbit's.
A draining feeling tugged at my insides and power flowed in a channel toward my wrist. My magic was being taken from me, swallowed by this ruthless creature.
His hands on me were unyielding and as hard as I concentrated, I couldn't conjure so much as a gentle breeze against him. Now he was drinking from me, he seemed to have my power in his grasp and it was all moving toward him, the well inside me emptying out.
He released me at last and my head spun, darkness momentarily curtaining my vision. A stream of the vilest swear words in my vocabulary swarmed through my head as I clutched the two bloody pinpricks on my wrist.
Orion gave me an even stare. “Everything in Solaria is about power, Miss Vega. Don't forget that. Everyone takes what they want. It's our way. And if you don't start taking it yourself, you're going to fail at this Academy before you've even attempted to pass The Reckoning.”
My heart pounded out of rhythm as his words sank in.
I am Fae. And I need to embrace the darkest part of me if I’m ever going to survive here.
Orion sailed away from me, dropping into his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Sit down.” He gestured to the seat opposite him.
My heart crumpled with frustration as I moved to take the chair, refusing to show him how rattled I was. Part of me wanted to run back to my room and hide under a blanket, but that wasn't exactly constructive…or dignified.
I eyed the ends of my hair, the blue tips feathery and smooth since Orion had essentially put me through a car wash with his Elements of air and water. I supposed I had something to thank him for. Though he'd taken plenty in return for it.
He poured himself another glass of bourbon and I frowned. “Isn't this supposed to be a lesson?”
“Nope. I'm supposed to be providing guidance for you. But I'm doing so on my time. And on my time, I like to have a drink. So here we are.”
“Right,” I said through tight lips. “So what exactly am I going to learn here while you're enjoying yourself?”
“Trust me, I'm not enjoying myself.” He planted his glass down, giving me a hard stare. “Hand,” he commanded and both of my hands curled up in refusal.
He half rolled his eyes. “Don't make me Coerce you. It's rather draining and I just added a nice chunk to my own power.”
“You mean you sucked out my magic like a mosquito.”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “Whatever colourful analogy soothes you.” He grinned, sipping his drink slower this time. “Hand, come on, we've only got forty more minutes of my life to waste.”
I pressed my lips together, thrusting my right hand at him.
“Flat on the desk, palm up,” he instructed and I did so. “Is this your dominant hand?”
I nodded.
“Good, I'm going to do an assessment.”
“What kind of assessment?” I asked.
“Of your power.”
“Okay…”
“Don't move. And don't giggle – for the love of the sun I hate the gigglers.” He took my hand and heat stroked my veins as he brushed his fingertips over my palm. It tickled like hell and laughter bit at my throat.
He glanced up at me as if judging whether I was going to be one of his hated gigglers. I gave him a straight face, refusing to let it out.
He traced his thumb across the line at the centre of my palm and my skin tingled with sensitivity. Heat dug a needy pit at the base of my stomach and I tried my absolute best to ignore it.
Why are the hot ones always jerks?
“In palmistry mortals usually have four lines on their palms.” Orion pointed them out from top to bottom. “Heart, head, life and fate. Fae, however, have a fifth line. A power line.” He pressed his thumb to the middle of my palm again and I shifted in my seat as my body reacted much too keenly toward Professor Asshole.