Reckless Witch: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Illumina Academy Book 1) Read online

  Ethan arches a brow. “All your needs will be met at The Academy. Your grandmother’s house no longer matters.”

  The part of me that longs for the security he’s offering jumps to life. Little does he know that’s the part that’s going to get me possession of Grams’ house.

  “It’s an honor to be accepted into the hallowed halls of Illumina Academy,” Ethan says.

  I snort. “Man, have you got the wrong Crowe. I dropped out of high school and took my sweet time getting my equivalency. I’m definitely not ‘advanced’ educational material.” A flash of shame washes over me at just how far from Academy material I am. I sell fake IDs—too often, to people who shouldn’t be walking this planet. Hardly the kind of student to set foot in one of the most illustrious magical institutions in the world.

  “You’ve been identified as a High Potential,” he says.

  I blink. “You are out of your ever-loving mind.”

  He tilts his head. As I stare into the cerulean depths of his gaze, a strange tremor simmers in my belly. He’s sinfully ripped, even for a dragon, but there’s more to his allure than that god-like body. I uncross my legs, suddenly aware of how warm the packed club has become. My short leather skirt sticks to my legs. Thank God, I’d opted for a black bra and fishnet top.

  Ethan waits, silently watching me.

  “Trot on back home,” I say. “I’m not about to set foot in that place.”

  “Don’t do this,” he warns softly. “It won’t end well.”

  My fingers twitch.

  His gaze flicks to my hands. He gives a slow shake of his head. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “You’re worried I’ll kick your ass.”

  He lifts his glass and sips his whisky. Then, his hand shoots out so fast I feel my flesh burn before the silver rune on the back of my hand registers in my brain.

  “What the—”

  The strange rune scores my skin, twinkling in the bar’s dim light. It feels like a spider crawling under my skin. I grit my teeth.

  “The sigil will grant you access to the school,” Ethan states, then adds in a soft voice, “Just as it will ensure you arrive.”

  Dragon magic.

  I glare. “You better fucking hope you’re wrong, because if I am forced to show up, I’m coming for you.”

  Ethan rises, slowly walks around the table, and stops behind me. I remain motionless as he leans close. The hair on my nape prickles as his warm breath heats my skin. My traitorous heart responds on a level that unsettles me.

  “You know how dangerous it is to practice magic on the streets,” he whispers. “You’re exposing more than yourself to danger.”

  I twist in the chair and meet his gaze. I’m aware only of the raw maleness that makes my skin sizzle. His gaze drops to my mouth and I’m startled by the need to find out what his lips feel like on my body.

  Heart pounding, I bolt to my feet and grab my jacket off the back of my chair as I head for the door. I have to get as far away from him as possible. My legs feel strangely heavy, as if I’m slogging through quicksand.

  Damn you, Ethan Bordeau.

  Already, his sigil is bending me to its will. I can break the damn spell. I have to find Jax. He’ll know how.

  I shove my arms into my coat sleeves and force my way through the standing-room-only crowd. The Witching Hour Cabaret Club is one of the most popular clubs in the City, not only because the cabaret acts are the best or because the club is owned by the vampire queen Desiree, but because Margiddians blend nicely with the alternative lifestyles of the customers. I sense two vampires and several shifters. They’re Desiree’s biggest fans.

  Halfway to the exit, I glimpse shadows near the main door. I slow, caught in the strange rhythm that pulses in sync with the music. My heart pounds harder. Dark magic? Fear slides down my spine. I hadn’t sensed a black witch earlier. How did I miss her?

  Someone jostles me and my gaze sharpens as if I’d been staring out of focus. The man who bumped me mumbles something and pushes past me. I quicken pace toward the front door. I may engage in a dubious profession, but I don’t dabble in black arts. Everyone knows black magic is like candy to The Shadows.

  I reach the door, burst into the cold December air, and stumble two steps right while dragging in deep gasps. Strong fingers grasp my arm. I pivot, leg raised high for a roundhouse kick. I register Ethan’s face as he clamps a hand around my ankle. I leap upwards and yank my leg free while whipping around to kick with my other foot. My skirt rides up nearly to my crotch.

  Ethan ducks with the speed unique to his kind then bands an arm around my waist before my feet touch concrete. He yanks me against an impossibly hard body and drags me toward the alley. Instinct summons my magic, but the sigil on my hand burns. I blink in surprise.

  “Don’t fight me, Leilah.”

  His order, spoken low in my ear, only infuriates me all the more. Rage has been a near-constant companion since the day Grams ripped me from all I’d known. I’d been fifteen. Fifteen. Tears well from some dark corner of my fifteen-year-old self.

  Once in the alley, Ethan releases me. I spin and face him.

  “I’m not your enemy,” he says.

  I can’t speak. If I do, I might embarrass myself and cry. Then I would have to kill him. I can’t have him telling anyone Leilah Crowe cried. The door to the club creaks open and music blasts in the instant before the door slams shut.

  “I want to know what’s going on,” I say.

  Ethan releases a breath. “Zadkeil is leading the investigation—”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I cut in. “For Christ’s sake, demons are more reliable than angels. Zadkeil can’t be trusted.”

  In my experience, few angels can be trusted. Maybe none. Talk about self-righteous beings who think they’re right all the time… They make Ethan look like an amateur.

  “Would you feel better if I told you we did, in fact, get corroboration of her guilt from a demon?” he asks.

  I stare in shock. “Angels and demons don’t take part in earthly matters.”

  “In fact, they sometimes do.”

  I start to reply, but he says, “You’ll get answers when we have them.”

  We? Who the hell is we? Raith Vanderkoff runs The Academy. Ethan is, essentially, his second in command. Does Raith have something to do with the investigation into Grams’ death? As Cadette Commander of Illumina Academy New York, Raith has a buttload of power, but he’s not a council member. What could he or Ethan have to do with an investigation into my grandmother’s death—and why the fuck are angels involving themselves in a witch’s death? Witches and angels aren’t on the best of terms given the old testament, ‘thou shall not suffer a witch to live’ deal. Sure, their leader later denied having anything to do with that clusterfuck. After all, it’s not his fault his followers misunderstood. Right?

  I consider casting a truth spell on Ethan and the sigil on my hand heats. What the fuck? I pin the dragon with a glare. “Your little sigil is more than a compulsion spell to enforce attendance.”

  “You know it’s against the law to practice magic without proper training,” he says.

  “And the permission of the Illumina,” I snarl.

  “You’re too young to remember The Shadows.” Sorrow clouds his eyes. “Be glad for that.”

  I’m startled by the sense that his secret is closer to the surface than it normally is, and realize I’m extending my magic when his damn sigil heats my hand again. I yank back my magic. It’s best Ethan doesn’t know how hard I’m willing to work to break through his dragon magic. I’ll save that for just the right moment. Like when I get the fucking thing removed from my hand. Then he and Raith will get a nice surprise.

  While dragon magic isn’t as encompassing as that of a natural witch, with dragon magic at his disposal, Raith is a powerhouse. Dragons are natural enemies of vamps—everyone is a natural enemy of vampires, when you get right down to it—but I guess Ethan isn’t afflicted with a sense of loyalty
to his clan. He’s obviously Illumina first, and that means he’s Raith Vanderkoff’s man, dragon, and anything else Raith wants him to be, including—and most importantly, today—what they call a recruiter and what I call a henchman.

  A man turns into the alley, stops short, looks from Ethan to me, then backs away and heads up the street.

  I return my attention to Ethan. He’s given me more information about Grams than I’ve discovered in the two weeks I’ve been here.

  “Maybe you’ll find the answers you seek at The Academy,” Ethan says.

  I narrow my eyes. “You’ll never convince me that my grandmother, a High Witch of the Light, was consorting with Shadows.” Grams was a lot of things, but this… I shake my head. “No way. I would have known.”

  Yet even as I make the claim, I see Grams in the cellar pouring over an ancient scroll in the dead of night. Alone, that isn’t suspicious. Witches are known for reading ancient scrolls. However, another time, when I sneaked up behind her and shouted ‘boo,’ she’d whirled and thrown a flame spell that singed my hair as it flew past and hit the wall. Normally, Grams was unshakable. Something had scared her for her to react with such violence.

  I once saw her standing in the dark, arms outstretched, eyes closed. Shadows danced about her feet. Perhaps most damning of all had been our last encounter. I’d awakened to find her standing over me in the dark, chanting. The next day, she tossed me onto the street and cast a spell on the potion shop to prevent me from finding it again. I grimace and cut off the thoughts. Dammit. Fifteen minutes with Ethan and he’s already summoned more memories than I’d thought about in years.

  “These are underhanded, false accusations to justify the Illumina’s actions,” I snap. So much for the school mantra of Light, Honor and Duty.

  A corner of Ethan’s mouth lifts. “You can’t honestly think your grandmother’s shop is worth anything to the Illumina?”

  His comment is insulting. Grams had specialized in one-of-a-kind Shuhadaku potions that allowed users to harness elemental magic. They’d been the best on the East Coast. Plenty of people would kill to get their hands on the formulas.

  “Her recipes are invaluable,” I say.

  “The Illumina doesn’t need her magic,” Ethan states. “The dark arts leave an undeniable imprint. Once the Illumina finishes its investigation…” He shrugs. “The house will be disposed of.”

  Disposed of? My heart beats faster. Over my dead body. I step closer, grab the lapel of his expensive shirt and yank his head down so I can look him in the eye as I tell him they had better not touch my home. My home. But this close, his eyes capture mine. Despite being the granddaughter of the whitest witch who ever lived, I’m comfortable with natural shadows. I see in the dark as almost as easily as a cat, so I don’t miss the silver dragon energy swirling in those irises an inch from mine. Something deep inside me hums, as if I’d just stuck my finger in an electrical socket.

  His brows shoot up in surprise. His secret rushes to the surface. I reach for the answer. The sigil on my hand burns. I grunt and take a faltering step back. What the hell? I haven’t summoned any magic. Then I understand.

  Dragon energy.

  I shoot him a dagger-filled glare, then spin on my heel and leave him standing in the cold alley.

  Chapter Two

  ETHAN

  Ciarah/Leilah, Leilah/Ciarah

  I stand frozen in the alley. She has finally returned. My heart thunders in my ears. Forty years. The blink of an eye. An agonizing eternity. Leilah Crowe, Illumina’s newest High Potential. I break from my shock. Illumina’s newest High Potential. I race from the alley, halt, and glimpse her dark hair as she ducks into a taxi. The cab takes off and I stare until she’s long out of sight.

  An hour later, I’m out of the city and nearly at The Academy. Icy flakes strike the windshield with a relentless staccato that grates on my nerves. After all these centuries, I should be immune to the mingling of euphoria and fear I experience every time Ciarah returns. The Illumina Academy’s stone wall comes into view up ahead on the left and my hands still shake as I turn into the drive, pass under the archway and enter the school grounds.

  I heave a breath and will my heart to slow, but my thoughts continue to race. I’d entered The Witching Hour Cabaret Club to recruit a student and felt an attraction to Leilah the moment I laid eyes on her. But who wouldn’t? Hazel, kohl-lined cat eyes. Tall, with long raven hair that down her back, and long legs.

  I swallow. I’d sat across from her in the club without a clue as to her true identity. Hell, I’d touched her, dropped a sigil on her skin. In the past, physical contact had always been enough to stir the recognition. Why not this time? Only when she collared me in the alley did my dragon energy leap to meet hers.

  I slow, pull into the parking garage attached to the instructors’ living quarters, park the Aston Martin in my designated spot, then turn off the car. I close my eyes and drag in a long breath as I let my hands drop from the steering wheel onto my thighs.

  Ciarah is back. This time, as Leilah.

  Can we do this again? Can I do this again?

  Over the years, I’ve known many beautiful women and even loved a few. But not the way I love Ciarah. I’ve known her by many names. But to me—to us—she will always be Ciarah, the slave girl we met millennia ago, the one who keeps appearing in our lives again and again. Even after centuries, we still haven’t discovered the reason why.

  Each time, the pain of losing her hurts more than the last.

  I need a long vacation. The Orient. It’s been too long since I’ve visited Japan. A couple months surrounded by soft spoken geishas would soothe the fire raging in my gut. At least, for a little while. No, that’s a lie. The pain of knowing she’s here and being so far away from her would kill me.

  I consider staying in my off-campus apartment, but the idea is a fantasy. Rest isn’t on the docket for tonight. Probably not for the next ten years; fifteen, if I’m lucky. Not until we lose her again. Besides, I have to let Raith know I found her. He would toss me into a deep grave if he learned I’d found Ciarah and hadn’t told him. That’s one trait vampires and dragons share; neither is forgiving.

  I step from the car into the frigid garage. The dragon in me recoils. I long for a whiskey, a raging fire, and an opportunity to recall every second of the fifteen minutes I’d spent with Ciarah. Instead, despite her return, we have work. I start toward the door leading into the building.

  Fear that practice of the dark arts empowered Damien, demigod and Lord of The Shadows, to wage the latest Shadow war, has kept tensions high these last twenty years. Damn the Illumina’s fear. It’s almost as if the mindless wisps of dark energy that are The Shadows still infects our leaders.

  The discovery that Miriam Crowe died while dabbling with Shadow magic rocked the Illumina to its core. Her estranged granddaughter being identified as a High Potential set off another shockwave, one nearly as powerful as the first.

  And now?

  Now, I have to tell Raith that Leilah Crowe, granddaughter to Miriam Crowe, an Illumina High Potential, is also Ciarah.

  I enter the main foyer, a carved white marble monolith. I nod to Jace and Michael, who stand guard on opposite sides of the room. The only indication they notice me is the lightspeed flick of their eyes in my direction.

  The school’s coat of arms, wings spread over the Illumina Academy name, hangs on the arch above the stairs that lead to Raith’s office. I take the steps two at a time. His door stands open. The room is dim, lit by an antique brass lamp positioned on the edge of his desk. He looks up from paperwork arranged before him, then leans back in his chair.

  Blade isn’t present. Not that I expected him to be. He deals with Ciarah’s absence by burying his cock deep into the soft folds of his latest flavor of the month. Or week, if I want to be more accurate. I can’t remember the last time Blade kept a woman for longer than a week—aside from Josephine, but she doesn’t count. She’s as big a playgirl as Blade is a playboy and sh
e makes no demands on him.

  Raith tracks my progress across the room. If not for the special bond created when we battled The Shadows—and the fact I’ve known him for millennia—I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what he’s thinking. But the darkening of his pupils reveals the fact that he knows me as well as I know him.

  “I’m all right,” I assure as I drop into the chair across from his desk.

  “You need a vacation.”

  I grunt. “A vacation from you,” I say, although I have seen him little these last two weeks.

  He gives a slow nod.

  Without Ciarah in our lives, too much time spent together can be dangerous. Maybe Caleb and Matthias had the right idea by disappearing. In all this time, we’ve yet to discover just why her presence balances our life forces. Hell, despite complete access to the Illumina archives, we still haven’t figured out what keeps bringing her back to us—or why our bond grows stronger each time.

  Raith still watches me. His lips are compressed lines and I wonder when he’s last fed. He can survive as long as a year without feeding on human blood, but he doesn’t do well. It’s been decades since he’s kept a stable of humans, as most vampires do. It’s been forty years since he’s fed off Ciarah, and I know that’s the hardest. Maybe that, at least, will change soon.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  I lock gazes with him. “She refused.”

  Surprise flashes across his face.

  Part of me finds the situation amusing. In all my decades recruiting, I’ve never had a student look disappointed, let alone resist. Leilah has courage.

  “I slapped a sigil on her,” I say. “She’ll show tomorrow.”

  Raith frowns. “Just who does this little witch think she is?”

  “Ciarah,” I say in a hoarse whisper.