Coven Academy Warlock: Year 1 (Rise of the VVitch Book 2) by David Sung

Author:David Sung [Sung, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-11-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Iwoke to the sound of birds committing unspeakable acts outside the window. Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting hopelessly cheerful patterns on the walls. My warm brown hair flopped into my eyes as I stretched and yawned, slowly taking in the scene around me.

Alora was nestled against my chest, her delicate features soft and untroubled in sleep. Her blonde hair cascaded over her face like a silken waterfall, and I resisted the urge to brush it aside. The poor girl had been through the wringer–She deserved this tiny moment of peace.

Last night played back in my mind like a poorly edited highlight reel: Alora slumped on her knees under the Boyeswin House while the brothers ran a train on her ass. The memory was a punch in my gut. She needed to heal.

A soft murmur escaped her lips as she shifted closer. Cute didn’t even begin to cover it.

Had she really taken that many dicks? A spark of guilt flared in my chest as I remembered how we’d counted.

The door creaked open, and Mari Swinkles sauntered in with her usual cocky stride. At a petite five-foot-nothing, she still managed to command every room she entered. Must’ve been from all those years perched atop balance beams and pommel horses; the girl walked like a human bayonet.

She took one look at Alora and me, shrugged, then started tidying up the common area. Not that it needed much; Wisenthor House was the neatest hovel on campus, thanks in no small part to Mari’s obsessive-compulsive cleaning binges. She could take a bomb site and turn it into a Pinterest board in twenty minutes flat.

“Morning, hero,” she said, giving me a playful nudge as she fluffed a pillow. “Saved any damsels today?”

I gently extricated myself from Alora and sat up, running a hand through my tousled mop. “It’s early. Damsels don’t usually need saving before brunch.”

Mari paused, hands on hips, and gave me one of her trademark half-smiles—equal parts admiration and condescension. “You know, Ty, if you keep this up, you might actually start believing your own legend.”

I laughed, but it came out hollow. “Yeah, because I need a bigger ego.”

“Just saying,” she continued, waving a hand dismissively. “It was a noble thing, taking her in. You sure you’re not biting off more than you can chew, though?”

Tilda came out and sat down, her viking features nuertral while she watched with a smile.

I glanced at Alora, who was starting to stir. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

“So are we,” Mari said, and I knew she wasn’t joking, which made it all the more terrifying.

Riley Eckstein slunk into the room like a stoned cat, her current stuff animal of the week in tow. I think his name was Chad, but with Riley, names were a fluid concept. One day it was Chad, the next it could be Thorvald or Giuseppe. Whatever it was, the stuffed animal had the vacant, glassy stare of a toy who’d just spent the night getting grinded on.

Riley herself was a sight, as always.

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