Shadowblade academy 2 da.., p.3
Shadowblade Academy 2: Darkness Rising, page 3
We hadn’t even made it to our freaking dorms!
He fucked me like a bullet train, drawing out ragged gasps from deep within my chest. My throat went dry as he toyed with me and grunted after every thrust.
The climactic wave built to a crescendo, then a tsunami, ready to wreck everything in its path with its sheer intensity.
I gritted my teeth and tucked my head into his chest, hugging him. “Too g-good,” I rasped, not making much sense. “Too big. ‘Bout to—oh, Venn! I’m coming!”
The explosion rocked me to my core. My body went taut as the pressure erupted from my belly to the tips of my limbs. A volcanic, full-body orgasm.
My eyes rolled back as the tumbling climax burst free in waves. Venn grunted, the veins on his neck protruding. He released his hold on my leg and it dropped like an anchor, nearly making me stagger from my wobbling knees.
As Venn yanked himself free of me at the last second, he palmed his cock at the base. The engorged veins throbbed and the head ballooned. A single stroke of his hand set him off—ropes of white-hot cum spewed onto my exposed legs and belly.
When he was finished, he fell forward into me, breathing like he’d run a marathon. We hugged and held each other, then slowly brought ourselves to the floor.
We loved to do it standing because we were both able, but our sex invariably brought us to the ground, every single time. There, we would linger and bask in each other’s presence and high spirits, feeling the fullness of the afterglow.
It was a hell of a way to go through my schooling at Shadowblade Academy, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Chapter 4
Dax
I WASN’T BIG ON PARTIES. Never had been. As a loner, I tended to keep to myself. Some people probably thought I was weird because of it. But I simply didn’t enjoy idle small-talk or showing fake interest in things that bored me. I sought more meaningful interactions.
Which was why I circumvented all the praise following our Shadowball victory. Students came to hoist me on their shoulders. I wasn’t having it. A few deadly glares from me sent them the memo. They hurried away, joining the swarm around the one-time hero, Donovenn Gable.
After all, I was just the goalie. I’d let three balls sneak past me, so was I really worthy of the praise? I’d just been lucky my teammates had managed to score four times against the opposing goaltender.
I would let Donovenn, Sunder, and Quentin bask in the triumph of our victory. As for me, I would head to the showers for quiet recollection. I would reflect on the season, how it played out, and how far we’d come.
Since I enjoyed my own company more than the company of most strangers, I would be content with taking an early evening and waking up bright and alert, rather than dull and hungover.
All my plans changed when I saw Coralia Hargrave on the sideline, watching the celebration unfold.
Coralia didn’t bore me. Not in the least. She was, in my eyes, the epitome of a “meaningful interaction.”
Her back facing me, I took a step toward her. I readied myself to say something, though she didn’t see me coming. When she walked down the sideline to join a sulking Sunder Conway, I frowned.
My moment had been lost. Snatched away.
Yes, I could have joined them, but I wasn’t interested in hearing Sunder’s sob story about what was pissing him off at that moment. It was always something with him.
Even with my heightened sense of hearing, I couldn’t make out anything they said over the shouting and cheering of the students on the field.
I began to wander away toward the showers at the edge of the park meadow. I gave one last glance over my shoulder and saw Sunny had disappeared. Now it was Donovenn talking with Coralia.
My frown grew more pronounced. When I made it into the locker room, a strange sensation passed over me. Is it longing? Disappointment? Jealousy? It was hard to pinpoint. I was a fairly apathetic individual, not easily moved by strong emotions. In fact, I considered “emotions,” showing them, specifically, my weak point. I supposed it was why I often came across as detached and uncaring.
It was something I didn’t know how to fix. It was also something I wasn’t convinced was an actual problem. Does it even need to be fixed?
Regarding Coralia Hargrave, I decided, yes, it did. If I was going to get closer to her—which I badly desired—I needed to be more open. I needed to be like the other Glovemates who had successfully molded a relationship with her, namely Donovenn and Sunder.
Quentin was still an anomaly, but he’d only returned to the land of the living a few months ago. He had a good excuse. Plus, he was already more personable than me, which was frustrating.
I stripped down in the shower and let the warm water purge my exasperated thoughts. Leaning forward, I rested my palms on the wall, letting the water roll down my neck, listening to it pelt my skin.
After a few minutes of solemn silence, which I greatly appreciated, I had a clearer head. I finally understood what troubled me: Coralia had grown close to two Knuckles in Hudson’s Glove, and neither of them were me.
Donovenn was understandable, because he was easygoing and likable. Sunder was a bit more perplexing, because he was a pain in the ass. Perhaps Coralia enjoys the back-and-forths with him. Maybe a part of her is turned on by the glitz and glamour of Sunder, and his controlling ways.
I didn’t have either of those personality traits: likability or superiority. It made me feel like I had no chance with her. That I had already lost.
And this was coming after I’d managed to muster the courage and spill my truth to her, prior to our final assignment, when we stayed in the infirmary together following Genevieve Jade’s abduction. I’d told her I was “smitten” with her, just like Donovenn Gable was. Just like, I suspected, Sunder Conway was.
And her response? To stare at me listlessly. No verbal answer or acknowledgement. I had exposed my heart, which was difficult for me to do, and had had it ripped out. I’d eventually asked her to stop staring at me because it made me nervous.
In hindsight, I knew I shouldn’t have put her on the spot like that. I shouldn’t have expected an immediate answer. Just because we’d been trapped together in the infirmary, healing, didn’t mean I deserved anything.
I’m being immature, expecting anything from her. She is my Glovemate, first and foremost. I can’t toss aside my professionalism just because she titillates me.
I cranked the shower off and took a deep sigh. When I walked out into the locker room, I was staring at Sunder’s bare ass. He was finishing stripping down, shoving his clothes into a locker.
When he turned to face me, we stared at each other. Both of us remained quiet. Stark naked.
He crossed his arms over his rugged chest. I had to admit he had an enviable physique: tall, muscled, hung. Not that I could complain about my own endowments.
The silence between us grew awkward as it stretched.
Then I chuckled.
“What?” Sunder snapped. He stood proud, certainly not shy about his body. If anything, rather than wilt when I chuckled, his muscles seemed to ripple with vibrancy.
“I’m just noticing how polar opposite we are,” I said. “At least in appearance.”
“You’re just now noticing that?” His head slanted. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but I’ll always be as white as a porcelain statue, and you’ll always be as black as a tar pit.”
I could have taken offense to his choice of comparisons, but again, emotions were difficult. I shrugged. “I would have gone with black as volcanic glass and white as a bleached asshole, but I don’t think that’s pale enough.”
His lips folded into a thin line. The air grew tense around us. Why does it seem like we’re squaring off, in a public shower room, in the nude? We’ve always been teammates and, at the very least, cordial.
Then he cracked a smile, which cut through the tension like a knife. “That was probably the funniest joke you’ve ever said.” He said it without any semblance of humor in his voice. It was honestly unnerving, and I wondered if he was trying to mimic my own countenance.
“Thank you, Sunder.” I nodded graciously. “I’m trying to . . . open up.”
“You mean lighten up?”
“Yes. That one.”
“Still got some work to do, buddy.” Finally, he stepped forward. Walking past me, he slapped me on the shoulder. “But I like what I’m seeing.”
“Any advice?”
My question seemed to catch him by surprise. He stopped at the archway of the shower room and slowly turned to face me, head bobbing left and right. “Try to act a little less like a robotic, alien species, and more human. Less like a shadow on the wall, more like a person in the room.”
I creased my brow, taking mental notes. “Less cyborg, more accessible. Got it.”
“Doing better already.” He flashed me another smug grin and then disappeared into the shower room.
As I heard the water turn on, I called out: “Good game today, Sunder. I’m pleased to be your Glovemate.”
His voice echoed: “You’re regressing already, pal, with the ‘I’m pleased to be your Glovemate’ shit. Just tell me how much I kick ass and get on with it!”
I smiled despite myself. “You kick ass, Sunder.”
“I know!” After a brief pause, his voice became more serious. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dax.”
I quickly dressed and left the locker room before he could emerge from the shower.
I was starting to understand what Coralia saw in him.
EVEN AFTER MY SHOWER and my commitment to an early night in, I found myself idly wandering the halls of the Academy. My energy level was still too high from the Shadowball match and my ensuing talk with Sunder.
My head spun with thoughts. It was a problem I wasn’t used to, because I typically felt calculated and in control. Maybe Sunder . . . Sunny . . . is right. I could stand to “lighten up” a little bit. I guess the first step to that is calling people by their preferred nicknames?
I chuckled. It wasn’t going to be easy to change, and it certainly wasn’t going to happen all at once.
Maybe in the morning I’d forget all this talk of change ever happened. Despite not seeming like it at times, I was comfortable in my own skin.
My wandering brought my thoughts to Coralia. An ever-present distraction. She became disillusioned with me after I failed to show up as her Physical Intent tutor. I had promised to teach her what I knew—and I did, to a point—but then Headmaster Cane sent me on a covert mission for the Academy.
After what Alaric Cane did for me in my past, I couldn’t turn down his directive.
Perhaps that was why Coralia never answered back when I told her I was smitten with her. She needed more time to process.
I would try to give her all the time she needed. But, for some reason, the closer she got to Donovenn and Sunder, the further I felt she was getting from me.
It was quite a conundrum.
A faint sound in the distance made my keen ears perk up. The animal inside me went on high alert. I stopped my ambling through the vacant hallway and stepped lightly toward the source of the sound.
It’s coming from behind that door.
The dull thuds from within sounded like someone was being attacked.
I froze at the door, the faint noises growing louder. I thought I heard low whispers and mumbling.
If someone was in trouble, it was my duty to help them. I was an agent of Shadowblade Academy, after all.
My hand reached for the doorknob.
A familiar voice stopped me short.
“Oh, Venn! I’m coming!”
I backpedaled, eyes widening. All at once, the pervasive scent of sex filled my nose. My ears weren’t my only keen senses, but I’d been deafened, as it were, by the thudding noises. Until I got closer.
Now I could make out the ragged pants and labored grunts of Coralia and Donovenn on the other side of the door.
They were doing a shameful thing in public like this, defiling Academy property with their carnal exploits.
Sunder’s words flashed through my head: “You’re regressing already, pal!”
He was right. I couldn’t be such a prude. What Donovenn and Coralia were doing was . . . enticing. Lewd. Dangerous.
My cock stiffened against my thigh, bulging down my leg. A flush came to my cheeks as I imagined joining them. It wasn’t jealousy or sadness I felt, which surprised me.
It was longing. I wanted to be a part of.
I wondered what would happen if I swung the door open, pretending I didn’t know what was going on. How would they react? Would they be mortified and humiliated?
Would they . . . invite me in? To join them?
The preposterous idea forced a scoff from my lungs. I shook my head at the absurd notion and hurried down the hall, trying to make as little noise as possible so they wouldn’t hear me escaping.
Fleeing. With my tail between my legs.
I felt simultaneously ashamed and aroused.
Coralia Hargrave was driving me mad. Stumbling upon her with Donovenn only made me realize how much I wanted her.
Would they invite me in? I guess I’ll never know now.
And I had to be content with that. I was too honorable of a person to think otherwise—too respectful to try and insert myself in a situation where I was most likely not wanted. I wasn’t a gambler or a daredevil; I was calculated and in control.
I made it outside and exhaled unsteadily, realizing I’d been holding my breath.
Change is going to be very, very difficult.
Chapter 5
Coralia
I STAYED IN VENN’S dorm that evening. Despite trying to be a private person, I wasn’t going to hide what I was doing. Even if I was somewhat of a celebrity after the Shadowball final, I didn’t feel like throwing on a hood or putting on a fake mustache.
In my opinion, I was becoming famous for all the wrong reasons. Shadowball was just a game—a sport used to instill teamwork and collaboration, but still just a game, at the end of the day. The stuff I’d done with Hudson’s Glove in Asberald City? That was real shit. It was a shame our discoveries would go unnoticed. The prison, the Leatherwings, Genevieve Jade’s captivity, zombie Quentin, that poor dead girl, finding Myria seconds before losing her again—none of it would ever come to light, because students couldn’t know about it. Headmaster Cane had made that clear in our debriefing.
Final Ghost assignments were, by their nature, clandestine. Though I hadn’t signed an NDA or anything, it wasn’t something to bring up during idle conversation. “Coralia, did you hear about the new Phantom student?” “Yeah, he reminds me a bit of the demonic Leatherwings from the creepy abandoned prison I invaded!”
Not exactly polite chatter.
I wondered how Alaric Cane planned on keeping Vivi Jade silent about the whole ordeal, since she wasn’t bound by the same secrecy we were since she hadn’t been involved in the mission. Or, if she’d even want to talk about it, since it must have been extremely traumatizing.
Oh wait, I forgot: She doesn’t even remember anything that happened while she was there! I would’ve called her out if I thought she was lying, but the vacant expression on her face in the infirmary had been evidence enough. Plus, I wasn’t about to go victim-blaming.
I couldn’t believe I was thinking it, but I missed the old, bitchy Genevieve. The overly-confident bimbo who thought the world belonged to her, and treated me like shit. That was better than the shell of the girl I’d seen over the past couple months. She had turned into a ghost.
Her transformation, as well as the sudden vanishing act by the other girl we’d found in the prison, really piqued my interest.
What ever happened to that woman, anyway? The one Dax recognized. Who is Desmona? Does she remember anything?
It infuriated me when I thought about how we’d lost the only solid lead about the place before I’d gotten a chance to ask her questions. Desmona had a firsthand accounting of the prison facility that none of us did.
Makes me want to track her down.
Needless to say, I had a burning desire to learn what fuckery was afoot in the Asberald City prison. The scientists and doctors that had arrived on campus following our raid alarmed and frustrated me. They were keeping everything on a need-to-know basis, and us mere students didn’t need to know.
But I did. If I was ever going to find Myria again, I needed some new clues. The abandoned prison might’ve contained all of them. I’d even contemplated sneaking over there myself on a few occasions. My Glovemates had adamantly deterred me though, saying it was too dangerous. Too much yellow tape, as it were.
“You’re too much like your sister,” Sunny had scolded me. “This is exactly the kind of shit she pulled that got her taken in the first place.”
I hadn’t talked to him for a week after he said that shit. Even though he was right.
Plus, I couldn’t lie: I was too freaked out about Asberald City to go alone. It was a ghost town—dilapidated, foggy, and very clearly haunted. I mean, freaking demons had used it as a base of operation, for fuck’s sake.
I tried to talk Venn into going, but he declined, saying he wouldn’t go unless the rest of the Glove did. Dax was a nonstarter because he was a Goody Two Shoes. Quentin didn’t want to return to the place that had zombified him and separated his soul from his body, which was understandable. How did that happen, anyway? Another unanswered question I’m dying to know.
It disappointed me.
When enough time passed and I forgave Sunny, I asked him again. I hoped he of all people would want to go because, other than myself, he’d been the most determined to find Myria. But even he said he didn’t want to get expelled from the Academy, and that we were already skating on thin ice and needed to be smarter about our next moves.
Cowards.
He stopped just short of saying he was scared of going back there. Instead, he went with this line: “We need a better plan.” We couldn’t just run blindly into Asberald like foolhardy, misguided heroes.
