Supernatural Academy: Senior Witch, Spring Semester by Ingrid Seymour & Katie French

Author:Ingrid Seymour & Katie French [Seymour, Ingrid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

SPRING SEMESTER

MID FEBRUARY

The next day, Rowan picked me up in his car in front of the Senior Dorm. It was the same Mercedes his father had owned, which now belonged to Rowan. He kept it at home most of the time, but tonight, he’d taken it out for the special occasion.

I came down the steps, feeling extremely self-conscious. I was wearing a dress unlike I’d ever worn on a date before. It had a tight bodice, fitted sleeves that kept me warm, and a flowing skirt that reached the ground. It was classy, and yet a bit over-the-top for me, but Disha had insisted it wouldn’t look out of place—not where Rowan was taking me for dinner. Also, she’d assured me it would make the subsequent disrobing far more interesting and exciting. I blushed just at the thought.

Was I ready for this? I hoped so. We’d waited so long.

Fabric rustled with every step, sequin sparkling as the lamplights hit it.

My heart pattered like a scared rabbit as Rowan spotted me from his place beside the shiny black car, his gaze devouring me with that predatory intensity that could never let me forget he was a vampire.

“You look ravishing,” he said as he strode forward and took my hand to help me down the last step. He was ravishing himself in a dark suit with a gray shirt and purple tie.

My insides melted with the growl of his voice. I had looked forward to this night for weeks, years maybe, and it was finally here. And yet, I was so nervous. I might not eat a bite for all the knots in my stomach.

He opened the passenger door and ushered me in. When he walked around the front of the car, I watched as he forced himself to walk slowly, doing his best not to rush anything about tonight. When we left campus, he drove slowly, too. The car cruised lithely down the dark streets, purring like a subdued kitten as we headed toward the city.

We talked about classes, his mother and brothers, the restaurant we were visiting, everything, except any of the gloomy topics that had occupied our conversations lately. It almost felt normal, like we were an ordinary couple out on a date, not a vampire and a maimed witch who had been through too much.

We arrived at the restaurant in a posh area of Atlanta. A valet took the car, and we walked between two tall hedges and entered a small courtyard, past empty cast-iron chairs for outside dining.

Aria, the name of the restaurant, was displayed prominently on top of the door, backlit by yellow lights. Inside, the atmosphere was modern, and even though the place was full, conversation was subdued and pleasant.

We were seated at a round table covered by a white tablecloth and topped with pristine wine glasses and fine china. Rowan ordered wine and an appetizer, and soon we were enjoying toasted ciabatta with balsamic syrup. It was delicious, way better than the cafeteria fare I’d eaten for the last four years.

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