A Fine Necromance: A Paranormal Academy Series (A Witch Among Warlocks Book 3) Read online

  Until I met Charlotte.

  At first I thought it was just because she was a girl thrown into my all-guy environment. Her pure female scent was too much to resist. Master Blair locked down my magic so I couldn’t touch her, but I still invaded her dreams at night—against my will. I wanted to be angry at the teachers for giving me, of all people, a female roommate, but she was so delicious I couldn’t bring myself to ask for her removal.

  Over the last two years, she had become so much more.

  Sure, my body wanted her from day one, but that made me want to shy back from her as much as anything. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to wreck her life like my mom seducing my dad.

  Two years of living with her, and everything had changed. I was comfortable with her. I’d never been comfortable with a girl before. Sometimes, for a second, I even forgot how much I wanted her.

  For a second.

  She was so damned cute. I wasn’t the only one who thought so. For an incubus, this was a dream scenario. I wanted to resist her for four years, but that was before I realized how the council would hurt her. How they’d take Firian away from her.

  I didn’t break the spell so I could fuck her. I broke the spell so I could hold her.

  But yeah, of course I fucked her too. It was mind blowing, to have sex with someone you loved.

  Now, she was hundreds of miles away.

  “Alec?” Dad called from the attic as I walked in the door of our old farmhouse.

  “Hey, I’ll come up,” I called back. I walked up the steep, very-well worn stairs that twisted upward into a semi-finished attic. This was one of Dad’s work rooms. Most of the house was a work room. Potion making was a messy business. There was a lot of collecting, drying, extracting, distilling, pounding and grinding. There was almost nothing that couldn’t be a potion ingredient, and hardly anyone in the world with Dad’s depth of knowledge.

  I respect the hell out of my dad, but we did not exactly understand each other. I’m a Pisces. He’s a Virgo. In our pagan coven, that was enough to get an understanding nod from anyone. He hardly saw me, but when I came upstairs he was buried in some work with a raven’s body.

  “Let me wash my hands,” he said, finally standing up and turning the knob of a rickety sink. Water spurted out reluctantly. He washed up to his forearms. He was dirty and even a little bloody. We looked more alike than people realized because my incubus magic made them think I was a lot more attractive than him, plus my mom had darker skin and this was generally solid English and German wizard territory. I also worked out while he hunched over tables all day. We had the same shape of nose and mouth, the same nearsighted eyes, the same hands.

  “Dad,” I said. “I’m just gonna spit this out. Mom is dead.”

  “Oh—er—how did you know that?”

  “Have you looked at the memoriam book this year?”

  “No, I really never have time for that and I’m just not inclined to be nosy. Dead? Really? She was young, wasn’t she? What was the cause?”

  “Lung cancer.”

  “Ahh. Yes, well, that isn’t really a surprise.” He dried off his hands and looked at me. “Are you—upset?”

  To say emotions weren’t Dad’s forte was an understatement. He tried. He just didn’t get the whole range of them. He had some emotions, but he was sort of like a robot that had been programmed for a sensible, practical range. I felt like he would have made a good loyal butler in another life. He was great at making dinner and pressing my clothes and I knew he cared about me because that was how you knew when he cared about anything: when he devoted time to it.

  “A little,” I said.

  “Oh. Well…was there anything you needed to say? I have dinner on the stove waiting for us already.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know if there’s anything to say. I’m just upset. Charlotte actually summoned her when we had our necromancy class.”

  “Did she now?”

  “Yeah. And she showed up but she got angry at Charlotte. She said I needed to stop pretending to be a warlock and be an incubus. She felt that Charlotte was in the way.”

  “And Charlotte? Is she in the way?” Dad asked. “Of your studies, I mean?”

  “No. I think Charlotte might actually improve my studies,” I said, knowing this might get contentious.

  I could see him tense a little. “What do you mean?” He lifted the lid on a pot of chili downstairs. Our kitchen was like every other magical household in the region: an old gas stove, a small fridge, battered wooden cabinets, a farmhouse table with a thousand nicks in the old wood, the smell of herbs in the air. Light fell on the floor in predictable patterns on floors that were always clean and polished but were very, very old. This house was built by my ancestors who came to America in the 1700s, a common story among magic families, and I had grown up with the sense that old Lyrman ghosts were watching me.

  “I mean…I’m in love with her.”

  “You’re so young,” Dad said. “And with your magic, how can you—”

  I cut him off. “I know because of my magic. I gave it two years. I got to know her. The whole time, believe me, I wanted her—but I got to know her first.”

  “Did you touch her? Did you—”

  “I broke the spell that kept me from touching her,” I said. “And yeah, we did things.”

  “Alec.” His voice was soft, simmering with the slow build of his anger. It would never go above a simmer, really, but that was just as bad. “I don’t think I really need to tell you how unwise this is. Your skill in artistic magic was coming along so well. You know what will happen now. You’ll be thinking of her all the time.”

  “That’s true, but maybe I need to think of her. Maybe I need a muse,” I said. “I need someone I can focus on because all these feelings aren’t going away. They’re part of me. We can use magic to hold them back, but Char told me she likes me as I am. She told me I should just—be an incubus.”

  “I’ve been hearing a lot of things about Charlotte,” Dad said. “The stories don’t reassure me about your closeness to her. I know that trying to keep you from school or forbidding you from seeing her would be pointless…”

  “I knew you’d say this shit.” I crossed my arms. “You asked me if I was upset about Mom dying? Yeah. I am. I’m upset because she was half of what I am, and you just want that half to go away.”

  “I’m not trying to be cruel, Alec. I’m just pragmatic. I had to repress your impulses or you might have—forced yourself on others.”

  “You know I wouldn’t do that. I’m not some mindless demon. I don’t want to hurt anyone. But Charlotte wants me as much as I want her.”

  “I doubt that.”

  I slapped the table. “You ‘doubt’ it?”

  “I mean, she is under the influence of magic. You can never know what she wants. And we know so little about where her fate is going. You are not the sort of person who should be with a controversial girl. When you finish school and come of age and have proven yourself as a warlock, your prospects will be really very good. At that point, the elders will be less concerned with your mother’s blood because you will have shown that level of discipline. And as I’ve said, we’ll find you a good match through the council.”

  “I’m with Charlotte now. I don’t want anyone else.”

  His chili was really good. What a waste of flavor. We ate in annoyed silence.

  Dad didn’t fight me. He believed—rightly—that telling a child no only led to rebellion. But he radiated disappointment. I could just feel him thinking that I was his only child and that he had failed. He didn’t know what to do with me.

  And I had to come to the hard realization that I couldn’t please him anymore. He was never going to approve of me being an incubus.

  So it was time to stop even trying.

  “I’m still going to be a great warlock,” I said, as I was finally finishing up my bowl. I mean, Dad could cook. The chili had perfect heat and multiple levels of flavor. Even when I was pissed
off I couldn’t help enjoying it. “But I’m going to be a great incubus too.”

  “I don’t know if there is such a thing as a great incubus.”

  “Fuck. Of course you’d say something like that.” His eyes tracked me as I stood up, cool and judgmental. He didn’t apologize or try to stop me from leaving the room or react much at all. “Well, I’m proving you wrong.”

  I washed out my bowl and then tromped upstairs. I tried not to let my dad get to me, but I had always tried to be what he wanted. When it came to Charlotte, I couldn’t do it anymore. I had gotten a taste of what it was like when someone accepted me for who I really was, and I couldn’t stop now.

  I wanted to talk to her so badly, but the only telephone in our house was downstairs off the kitchen. We didn’t have internet in the house either. One witch in our little hamlet ran an internet ‘cafe’ on her enclosed porch so the rest of us could keep the corrupting devices out of our houses.

  Damnit. I was aching for Charlotte so badly. Just to hear her voice or see her face—anything. Summer was going to kill me. I traced my tattoos to calm down my urges, but you know what? Tattoos that control sex drive don’t help when you just miss someone’s presence.

  I threw open a sketch pad instead. I didn’t usually draw people. My subjects were all from the magical world. Magical artists used the power of capturing an image to control the world around them. This was why a lot of religions cautioned against making images of people or gods. Even humans knew that if you painted someone, you could gain influence over them. Lately I’d been trying to paint the Withered Lord. I’d never seen him, but I could still piece together his essence from accounts. When school was over, the rest of my friends planned to battle this demon, and my best shot at helping them out was to weaken him with my artwork.

  But I didn’t feel like drawing a demon today.

  It was her essence I wanted to capture.

  It was Charlotte I wanted under my sway. It was Charlotte I wanted to do things to, but I didn’t want to hurt her. Quite the opposite. The magic for seduction wasn’t really that different from the magic of controlling a demon…but it was a lot more pleasurable.

  I broke out the ink pens and the watercolors. First, a sketch. Loose, feeling like her more than it looked like her exactly. I would draw her from the back. Her hair was often in a ponytail, dancing with her movements. There were always wispy hairs coming out of the ponytail, softening her face. The curve of a shoulder, waist, hip, beneath the small men’s uniform. She was always animated, her hands busy. I drew one of them trailing down as if to brush flowers or Firian’s fur. I paused before realizing I did sort of miss Firian too. He’d become a part of the landscape, and I took great pleasure in watching her enjoy him. I filled him in, a thick fox coat and pointed ears at her side. While I gave her the uniform suit jacket and the white cuffs of a dress shirt peeking out of her sleeves, I decided to give her a mini skirt and knee socks because this was my art so why not draw her sexy legs?

  Having put down the lines in black ink, I let colors seep into the paper. I tinted her with red and golden shades, warm colors like fire. She was like fire. Like warmth, like home. Her desire fed me and I felt like I couldn’t live without it now.

  When I was done, the picture was suitable for all ages. I could have painted her otherwise, but that didn’t feel right. Not yet. It still captured her sensuality, her beauty. This was just the beginning.

  My dad was never going to understand this feeling. He was wrong. She was under the influence of my magic, sure. But it wasn’t true that I could never know what she wanted.

  I knew what she wanted. I knew I would make her happy every day of her life.

  Now that I had made love to Charlotte, I wasn’t going to go back to the way I was. I couldn’t hold back anymore.

  Chapter Three

  Charlotte

  It had been a while since I dreamed of Alec.

  Do you ever have dreams that are so real that in the dream you’re like, I think this is a dream but maybe there’s a way to hold onto it forever? And the whole dream you’re trying to find a way?

  That was how Alec dreams were. They were super clear. I remembered every second of them.

  In the dream, I woke up in bed and at first I thought I was waking up for real, but then I realized that Alec was sitting in my computer chair, and oh damn, all he was wearing was some low-cut black briefs. And he was sketching me.

  He looked up and smiled. His red-gold eyes had a very faint glow like light through a stained glass window. “You’re here,” he said.

  “You’re here,” I replied. “Alec, I miss you so much.”

  “Throw off the blankets,” he said.

  I shoved the blanket off and the tank top and underwear I’d been wearing were gone.

  “I never got around to drawing you last year,” he said.

  “We were busy.”

  “Do I have your permission now?” The look he gave me, it was like he’d already answered his own question. He knew I wasn’t going to say no. I didn’t even bother to answer.

  “I’ve been painting ethereals and demons,” he said. “Learning to control and summon creatures. But there is another way to use artistic magic. Painting someone deepens a bond. Every time you give me your image, Charlotte, a part of you is mine forever.”

  “There’s no place I’d rather have my parts be,” I said.

  He walked over to me, holding his wand in one hand, and slid the wand down one of my arms, urging me to put it back over my head. Then, he trailed the tip down the curve of my body. I shivered. He could touch me now, but he was acting like he still couldn’t. He drew the wand down the line of my leg, encouraging me to extend it, and then, for the other leg, he hooked the back of my knee and made me prop it up, spreading me out a little.

  “So, do you remember what Monty suggested I do, back when I couldn’t touch you?”

  “The transfer feeling spell?”

  “You pay attention,” he said, with a grin.

  “When it sounds hot, you bet I do.”

  “I figured it out.” He handed his wand to me, pressing the handle against the palm of my right hand. “I’m going to draw you, and you’re going to tease me.”

  The transfer feeling spell Montague mentioned? It would let Alec feel sensation through his wand. So basically…it turned his wand into a hard, detached cock.

  I mean, these are the spells they don’t teach you in class. Which was good, by the way, considering our youngest professors were pushing seventy and I would die if I had to learn magical sex ed from any of them.

  When I was having incubus dreams, my inhibitions seemed even lower than they were in real life, because it was still a dream. It wasn’t quite real. Whatever part of my real life brain that might have been embarrassed or worried that someone would hear me moaning, well, it was gone.

  He sat back down, and I started rubbing the wand against my clit to get me going a little.

  Oh yeah, he could feel it. As soon as I started rubbing the wand against me, his cock was throbbing in response. I went really slow so he could concentrate. He started sketching, moving his pencil in long, confident strokes across the page. He was getting down the lines of my body; I could tell.

  He was breathing slowly, trying to control his desire and focus on the page, and I realized this was some serious incubus warlock training going on. Both sides of his nature were working together and warring with each other at once. I could tell when I rubbed a little harder and faster, it made him crazy. He couldn’t help but fidget and it made his thick length strain and throb.

  I got to study his face while he studied my body. His features were handsome, his cheekbones chiseled, and if he was a bit of a pretty boy now, there was also a ruggedness to him and I could just tell he was only going to get better with age. It took everything I had not to spring off the bed and tear his underwear off, climb on that lap of his and stick my tongue down his throat.

  I could tell when he was done with a
ll the basic lines and narrowing in on more details, and that seemed like a good time for the wand and me to take things to the next level. I slid it between my slick folds. Alec’s wand was still a little too thin to be a really satisfying dildo, but it did have a nice little curve to it. I felt tender inside, the hard wand like a firm touch.

  “Mm…” I wanted to close my eyes and pretend he was the one touching me, but I also wanted to look at him.

  “Char…damn…” He ruffled his hair, agonized.

  “Can you feel me?”

  “Every inch. Take it easy so I can get this sketch done first.” He reached down to run a hand over his erection and I snapped my fingers.

  “No,” I said. “No. Finish your picture. Isn’t that the point?”

  He growled at the wall. “I’m going to explode.”

  “You do look like you might,” I said. “But I’m trying to help you learn magic here.”

  “Since when did you become a teacher?”

  “Since Firian has been bossing me around, making me do all the boring stuff Stuart asked me to do. I spent three hours today analyzing forest plants.”

  “I entered your dream so I can do whatever I want to you,” he said, but he got back to drawing. “Hold still. I’m trying to draw your face.”

  I was enjoying the dance. So was he.

  No one better wake me up, that’s all.

  He sketched. I stroked the wand against my G-spot very slowly. I was definitely enjoying that I had control of both of us right now. I knew how to build myself up, with focused little strokes. But he got off more when I gave the wand a longer thrust, so now and then I gave him a little treat.

  Before long I had to slow down.