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Chapter 31 | Ravinica

Chapter 31

Ravinica

I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE to start my search. I had no clue what I was exactly looking for, other than knowing it was names . The names of the people who screwed with my family lineage and made me the bog-blooded half-breed I was today. The people who besmirched my line and brought shame and heartache to my family.

I didn't know who my father was. By all accounts, Ma didn't either. It had been her idea I come here. When she'd been a student at Vikingrune, she never managed to discover the truth of our lineage. I was the next in line to continue that legacy of searching.

For the first time, doubt weighed in my stomach. As I gazed around at the countless shelves filled with books, my task became more daunting than ever.

Should I really be putting so much emphasis on such a futile search? In a search that might end in more heartbreak?

What if I never discover what I've come here to find? What if I'm caught during my hunt? What if the answers aren't even in these tomes?

The questions bubbling through my mind were endless, overwhelming. Panic set in. The starkest thought of all rang through my mind, and it was nothing I'd ever considered before: Is it really worth all this danger and subterfuge just to complete someone else's mission? To uncover another person's mysteries?

What is it that I, Ravinica Lindeen, really want?

It seemed like such a simple question. Yet paired with it was a sense of betrayal and grief. I felt like a traitor to hesitate on completing my mother's wishes—a vow I had made to her. I felt sad to seemingly crumble at the first sign of pressure, when I had otherwise been a stalwart defender of the Old Way.

In a way, I was just like Magnus: Trying to figure out why the fuck I was the way I was.

The man had certainly made my coming here much more complicated. Watching him comb through books at a hurried, frenetic pace, I was jealous of his resolve. His determination to uncover the truth about his history, while I was scared to find out things about mine.

The bloodrender knew what he wanted. His eyes never left the books he was immersed in. I didn't bother him, already feeling guilty about coming here and prying him for information about his life.

Magnus Feldraug was no business of mine.

Yet, for better or for worse, in a mere week I had become immersed in the inner workings and mysteries of four different men at Vikingrune Academy.

Grim Kollbjorn, who had become my silent protector without my asking. The giant bear shifter was content with walking me through the woods. He had a tragic past, by all accounts a horrible temper, and knew I would have to fight him to rise from an initiate into a cadet. He'd also once been friends with my brother.

Arne Gornhodr, whose sarcasm and witty words had proven to be a mask over something much more tender and real: protecting his sister, and the secret society she was part of, from harm.

Sven Torfen, who seemingly had an alliance with my brother Eirik, which in itself was a huge mystery and felt like a betrayal. I didn't even like the fucking bully, yet I kept finding myself drawn to him and his ridiculing sneers, like a punishing drug I kept wanting to inhale.

And now, Magnus Feldraug. A man between living and dead, whose special blood could apparently do amazing, terrifying things. A man whose very body was a testament to his pain, power, and everything in between, and who had a past more checkered and vague than even my own.

I had no business being wrapped up in these four men. I shouldn't have been enamored with them. I couldn't afford to get sidetracked.

But I couldn't help it. They intrigued me. I felt different things for all of them, though I could explain none of it. Things were not as cut and dry at Vikingrune Academy as I'd hoped they'd be before coming here.

I had dreamt of glory, honor, finding my way in life, and assassinating my sworn foes. Now I was having trouble discerning what made a person a friend, and what made them an enemy.

The Old Way said very little about matters of the heart. I was confused by the feelings, like something inside me had awakened, where before it had been a black void.

I was old when it came to being a first-year initiate, yet young when it came to . . . whatever this feeling was.

"Silvermoon."

Magnus' words snapped me back to reality. I spun away from the bookshelves to face him, not realizing until now that sweat had started to bead on my upper lip. "Y-Yes?" I eked out.

"You look lost."

I blinked. Why were there tears in my eyes, close to falling?

Magnus meandered toward me. He put an arm over my shoulder, and I felt safe and comforted. Even though his bare skin was warm across the nape of my neck, it somehow chilled me to the bone.

With his free arm, he pointed to a corner of the room. "Modern records." His arm moved to the opposite corner. "Ancient records. And the huge space between is filled with lost lineages, fragments of histories, and all sorts of interesting shit."

I frowned at him, without asking him to take his arm off me, because it grounded me to reality and made me feel less burdened by my task and my tumultuous feelings. "I haven't even told you what I'm looking for."

He grunted, pulling his arm away. "We all come here for the same reason, more or less."

I gulped, nodding to his back.

Magnus shrugged his chin over his shoulder. "I would start with modern records. Find the family you do know, and then work your way back. Otherwise you'll be lost forever, trying to find connections that don't exist."

Clamping my jaw, I dug deep to find the resolve I so desperately needed. "Thank you, Magnus."

With his few words, Magnus helped me shrug aside the doubts and worries. At least for the time being.

I cracked my knuckles, squared my shoulders, and got to work.

Hours passed in companionable silence. Only the shifting of pages and fluttering of parchment filled the space between me and Magnus.

He said, "It's time," and looked over at me from across the table.

I had a stack of three books in front of me. None of them had proven fruitful yet. But at least it was a start. "Time for what?"

He leaned down and blew out the candle, enveloping us in darkness, with only murky moonlight dappling sections of the records room in silver.

A wisp of smoke from the snuffed-out candle swirled across his face. "Time to go."

My shoulders slumped. I had failed, and not found out anything.

"Don't look so defeated. You think this is the first and only time I've come here?"

I cocked my head. "What do you mean?"

"Huscarls guard Mimir Tomes from around five in the morning ‘til midnight. That means five hours every night when no one is here. Lots of time to peruse the stacks." His eyes flashed. "I've come here nearly every night since arriving at the academy. Lost a lot of gods-damned sleep, too."

"If you've been coming here so frequently, why did you ask Arne to meet with you this weekend?"

"Because someone closed my window. I needed a new entrance to get in here."

"Your . . . window?"

"How good are you at climbing, silvermoon?"

And then he showed me how I could leave and enter Mimir Tomes' records room whenever I wanted.

I was in my bed, reclined, staring up at the ceiling. My mind buzzed with possibilities. My body ached. It had been an exhilarating night—one I knew I'd be paying for tomorrow.

I recalled a short conversation with Magnus before parting ways with him. He had taken me by the elbow, saying, "Let's keep my bloodrending between me and you, yes?"

"You mean it's a secret?"

"Only if you keep it."

"What will happen if it's discovered?"

"Nothing good."

"Gods, Magnus. Why did you entrust me with this?!"

"Good question, silvermoon. I'll let you know when I figure it out."

We had exited through the third-story window. Climbing down the edifice and pillars of Mimir Tomes, from third story to first, had been one of the most exciting things I'd experienced yet at the academy.

Perhaps it had been exciting because Magnus had been with me every step of the way, showing me the footholds, the placements, the areas to pause and watch for anyone down below.

We'd managed to land on hard ground and leave the vicinity of the library a scant three minutes before Magnus said Huscarls would be on duty to patrol the grounds. The closeness of our escape had been riveting.

I couldn't stop myself afterward: I threw a hug around Magnus before we separated, surprising the hell out of both of us. With hope gleaming in my eyes, I asked, "Until tomorrow?"

He smiled—the first smile I'd seen from the man, that I could recall. It didn't look natural on his face, even if he looked beautiful when he tried, with the moonlight softly illuminating his pale skin.

"Until tomorrow, silvermoon," he murmured, and then dashed away to head for Nottdan Quarter.

I was giddy when I arrived in Nottdeen.

Now I stared up at the ceiling, letting a warm sensation spread through me. My doubts and worries from earlier had been dashed, thanks to Magnus. I no longer fussed about fulfilling my oath. Now I had ample time to steal away to Mimir Tomes, and a comrade who indulged and supported my search.

I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly, smiling to myself. Visions of the four men who commanded my mind swam through me. The feeling in the pit of my belly grew, thrumming along my core, and I knew the sensation well enough. Hadn't felt it in a while.

Grim's touch on my face, tilting my chin before telling me I was worthy to be here. Such a soft touch for such a hard man.

My hand slithered down my side, past the hem of my nightshirt where it ended at my stomach.

Arne, consoling me with a gentle look and a kind pat on my hand after noticing the emotions in my eyes at being introduced to people just like me. The sarcastic, pretty man had done that for me.

My fingers curved past the waistband of my panties. I was slick and wet. The barest touch to my core made my body shiver with delight. Eyes remaining closed, I hummed to myself, bent my knees, and spread my legs. My other hand joined the first between my thighs.

Magnus, showing an amazing amount of caring for a man who people consider a sociopath. Maybe it's just for me. But I can't deny the feeling I got when he smiled at me—like he'd never smiled at another woman before.

"Don't worry, silvermoon. You're not the only one whose blood has damned them." His words in Hersir Thorvi's history class—when she nonchalantly told me my bloodline automatically made me a horrible person—held new meaning now.

His arm draped over the back of my neck . . .

Two fingers slid into my pussy, and I let out a soft groan. The heel of my other hand dragged across my engorged clit, massaging as I lost myself to the lust.

. . . His cold breath of candlesmoke; his scent of leather lingering on my face . . . those damned tattoos and etched lines of scars marring his flesh, making him more interesting than any man I've ever met . . .

I rubbed myself vigorously, fingers plunging in and out, until my thighs squeezed together around my wrists. My toes curled and I lifted them up from the mattress, staying on my heels and burrowing deeper into my bed.

I fucked my hand, thrusting against my drilling fingers, wishing in that moment for so much more to be taking me, filling me, making me scream.

Sven, and his rapscallion snarls and vicious frowns on his gorgeous face. A man I love to hate, and who hates me back.

I may never know why he torments me, and why I let him push my buttons . . . and I may never need to know.

Sometimes, the mystery was worth more than the truth. The veil could remain closed over Sven's gorgeous face, and even if he never said a kind word to me in my life, I would be content with it.

With my brain firing lustily, the morning dawn beginning to crack the gray night from my window, I unraveled to the dark, dirty thoughts that consumed me.

I would let you choke me, Sven, if you would only smile while you did it. My fingers moved faster, a third one joining the two inside me. My pussy was warm, tight around my knuckles, and I curved and dug even deeper to hit all my pulsating spots.

I let out a small cry, screwing my eyes shut harder.

I imagined Sven doing just that—choking me, bucking his hips as he took me, smiling down wickedly at my struggling face. My fluids drenched my knuckles, trickling down the swell of my ass while I continued to ride my palm and fuck my hand, grinding, pumping my hips with a mewl—the sound becoming a squelch of wetness that echoed off the walls of my dorm room.

"Oh gods," I gasped aloud.

Grim had taken Sven's place in my dream, shoving the gorgeous wolf shifter out of the way so he could impale me on the monstrous cock I'd seen swinging between his thighs.

When the bear shifter fucked me, he was no longer kind and protective. He was possessive, lost in a berserk trance, and just the mere thought of becoming his plaything—releasing the tension and defense mechanisms I had harbored for so long—was enough to make me come.

My lips parted, throat dry, even as I drooled and came undone. I pumped my hips twice, creaking the bed under my weight, and a lasting imprint of Magnus slammed into my mind—smiling at me for the first and maybe last time.

I wanted to explore how deep those tattoos went as they disappeared down the waistband of his leather pants. I wanted to run my palms across every inch of his scarred body, and get lost in the man.

An aftershock of bliss erupted inside me, shooting from my belly, outward, making me quiver and shudder as I came.

Tender, now—so raw and spent. I exhaled heavily in big swooping breaths. Slowly, I pulled my hands away from my center, leaving my thighs sticky with my juices.

I should have gotten up to shower, so I wouldn't be left marinating in my puddle of lust. Yet I couldn't bring myself to do it. Because the longer I stayed in the puddle, the longer I kept thinking about those four men.

As I drifted off into a content, lovely slumber, the last thought I had was telling myself how screwed I was for letting these men consume my thoughts.

I'm in big fucking trouble with this lot.

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