Chapter Five

Rita

The hall buzzed with energy as students gathered for their first practical magic class. The space, usually reserved for assemblies, had been transformed—circles of salt and herbs marked workstations, and the air hummed with the residue of old spells.

Rita stood beside Freda, watching as the instructor—a stout witch with silver-streaked braids—demonstrated a basic energy channeling exercise.

"Focus on the earth beneath you," the teacher intoned. "Draw its power, but do not force it. Let it rise naturally."

Rita closed her eyes, pressing her palms to the cold stone floor. She expected to feel nothing—or at least, very little. She was a novice, after all.

But the moment she reached for the energy, it answered.

A surge of warmth shot up her arms, and before she could stop it, a pulse of golden light flickered between her fingers. The ground beneath her trembled slightly, like a sigh.

A hush fell over the nearby students.

Freda’s eyes widened. "Rita—"

"Was that not supposed to happen?" Rita whispered.

Before Freda could answer, a smooth voice cut in.

"Impressive.”

A boy—tall, with sharp cheekbones and an easy smile—stepped into their space. He wore his magic like a second skin, the air around him crackling faintly.

"Derek," he introduced himself, extending a hand to Rita. "You must be new."

Freda’s posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, but she said nothing.

Rita shook his hand. "Rita. And yeah, first week."

"Well, first week or not, that was advanced control." Derek’s gaze lingered on her a beat too long before flicking to Freda. "Freda. Always a pleasure."

Freda gave a polite nod. "Derek."

He smirked, then turned back to Rita. "If you ever want a tour of the more interesting parts of the library, let me know."

With that, he sauntered off, leaving Rita blinking after him.

"Do you not like him?" she asked Freda once he was out of earshot.

Freda shrugged. "I’m indifferent, mostly. But I’m generally wary of male witches. Men in general, really."

Rita frowned. "He seemed nice enough."

"Mm." Freda’s tone was light, but her eyes were sharp. "Just be careful. Male witches are rare for a reason."

The dining hall was a cacophony of laughter and clattering plates. Rita, Deidre, Freda, and Pru had claimed a corner table, where Deidre was holding court with her usual razor-sharp commentary.

"—and that one," Deidre said, pointing discreetly at a group of werewolves, "has been staring at Pru for the last ten minutes. Someone’s got a crush."

Pru choked on her water. "What? No, he—"

"Good afternoon, ladies."

A tall vampire with artfully tousled dark hair and a smirk that could melt steel slid into the empty seat beside Rita. His British accent was faint but unmistakable.

Deidre rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Wow. We did not invite you to sit down. How rude."

The vampire pressed a hand to his chest. "Pardon me. I just have a hard time resisting a group of ladies as beautiful as you all."

"Ugh," Deidre groaned. "Zach, if you’re going to be insufferable, at least try to be original."

Zach ignored her, his gaze locking onto Rita. "And you must be the infamous new witch. Rita, was it?"

Rita arched a brow. "Infamous?"

"Oh, darling, you’ve been the talk of the school." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a smoky purr. "A witch with raw power like yours doesn’t go unnoticed."

His eyes—dark, hungry—traced her face like he was memorizing it. Like he wanted to devour her.

Rita forced a smile, chalking it up to witch allure and new-student novelty. But the intensity of his stare sent a shiver down her spine.

Nathan

Across the room, Nathan’s fork bent in his grip.

He’d been fine. Perfectly fine. Until that vampire—Zach—had slinked over to Rita’s table like some kind of preening peacock.

Now, Nathan’s vision was tinged with red.

His Rita.

No. Not his.

But his wolf didn’t care. It snarled, claws scraping against the inside of his skin, demanding he act.

One of his packmates elbowed him. "Dude. You okay?"

Nathan gritted his teeth. "Fine."

But he wasn’t. Because Zach was laughing at something Rita said, and Nathan could see the way the vampire’s fingers twitched, like he was imagining touching her.

Mine.

Nathan exhaled sharply, forcing his grip to relax. This was ridiculous. He was not some possessive brute.

…But he was definitely signing up for Advanced Herbology next semester.