Thornhill Academy. Chapter 74

Her lips press harder against mine, the kiss deepening until the world narrows to the sound of our breath and the heat building between us. Her fingers trail up my chest, drawing a line of fire that has my control slipping. The bond hums, alive and restless as our magics brush like sparks colliding. She isn’t just kissing me; her magic is stirring beneath her skin, reaching for mine. She’s trying not to feed. A low growl rumbles from my chest before I even think. In one smooth motion, I flip us, bracing her wrists above her head against the sheets. She gasps, eyes wide and shining, lips kiss-swollen and curved into the smallest, guilty smile.

“You’re distracting me,” I mutter, fighting the smirk tugging at my own mouth.

She tilts her head, pretending innocence, but the pulse fluttering at her throat betrays her. Leaning down, I catch her lower lip between my teeth, a soft nip, a warning and a promise all at once. My voice comes out rougher, lower and touched with my dragon’s edge.

“Feed from me, my pet.”

The bond between us hums to life again, wild, as her magic begins to draw from mine, slowly this time. The moment she opens to the pull of my power, I feel it, a soft, electric tingle just beneath my skin, like the air before lightning strikes. It isn’t painful; it’s grounding. My magic hums as if a current is being shared, flowing from me to her in small, controlled waves.

Her breath evens out. The tension in her shoulders melts. The bond between us steadies into a rhythm that feels almost like a heartbeat.

I lean closer, my voice low but calm. “There you go, good girl”, I murmur. “See? You’re in control this time.”

A faint colour rises to her cheeks, and I can’t help the small smile that follows. She sits back, visibly lighter, eyes bright again. I brush a thumb across her temple before pushing to my feet.

“Stay put,” I tell her, tugging at my shirt hem and exhaling slowly, feeling the faint thrum of power settle back inside me.

“I’ll make us something to eat. You’re going to need your strength for tomorrow.”

She arches a brow, curious. “What’s tomorrow?”

I grin over my shoulder as I move toward the kitchen. “Training. And trust me, little one, Hill isn’t going to take it easy on us.”

**Allison**

The days pass in a strange blur after Professor Hill’s offer. I've found a routine of school, classes, meals, and the quiet hours of dusk when Evander and I slip away from the others. Word must’ve reached the students that I’m being privately tutored, but nobody dares to ask why. They just assume I'm some useless stray that needs extra help with studying. Three days later, the sky is the colour of bruised lilac when the last bell rings and Evander finds me waiting at the edge of the courtyard. His uniform jacket is slung over one shoulder, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hair, as always, slightly dishevelled.

“You ready?” he asks, voice low, warm, steady in the way I need it to be.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, even though my stomach is tying itself in knots.

We walk together through the winding corridors until the hum of voices fades. The west wing of the academy always feels older, quieter. Every step echoes against the stone. By the time we reach the door to Hill’s classroom, the torches along the walls have flared to life, throwing long shadows across the hall. Evander opens the door for me, and I swear the air changes the moment we cross the threshold. The classroom is gone, or at least, it feels that way. The desks have vanished. In their place is a wide, cleared space marked with concentric circles of runes that glimmer like liquid gold underfoot. Hill stands at the centre of it, waiting, coat unbuttoned, sleeves rolled. He looks more like a commander preparing for battle than a professor.

“Miss Rivers. Mr Drayke.” His eyes flick between us. “Punctual. Good.”

Evander’s hand brushes the small of my back before he steps away, taking his place near the wall. I can feel him there, steady, protective, but I also feel the faint pull of our bond humming beneath my skin.

Hill’s gaze settles on me. “You’ve been practising grounding?”

I nod. “Like you said. Breathing, not pulling.”

“Good.” He gestures to the runes. “Then we’ll test the stability of your control today, with a conduit present.” His eyes shift toward Evander, who straightens slightly.

I glance back at him. “He’s… the conduit?”

Hill gives a single nod. “If you can draw carefully from a willing source without losing control, you’ll be on your way to true restraint. You’ll both learn from this. How much you can take, and how to restrain yourself.”

Evander smiles faintly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t mind being her training dummy, Professor.”

Hill’s brow lifts. “Let’s hope you don’t regret that, Mr Drayke.”

I swallow and step into the circle. The runes flare brighter beneath me. Heat rises from the floor, curling up through my legs, and I force myself to remember what Hill taught me, breathe, don’t command. I can feel Evander’s magic in the air, warm and molten, and when I reach for it, it comes to me willingly, like sunlight sliding through my veins. A warmth of recognition slowly draws into me.

Hill’s voice cuts through the silence. “Good. Now shape it. Guide it back. Remember, you are not a thief, Miss Rivers. You are a channel.”

I exhale slowly, letting the magic flow through me instead of trying to cage it. Evander’s power hums, golden and strong, twining with my own. The bond between us pulses once, hard enough to make my knees buckle, but his hands are suddenly on my shoulders, grounding me.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “You’ve got this.”

Hill watches from the edge of the circle, expression unreadable but his eyes gleaming with something that might be approval, or the faintest trace of awe.

“Now,” he says, stepping closer, “I want to see how much you can channel before your body begins to reject it.”

I glance up at him, startled. “Reject it?”

“It’s important to know your limits, Miss Rivers. I need to know how far I can push you before you break.”

My stomach twists, but he must see the flicker of panic in my eyes because his tone softens. “Control is meaningless if you don’t know your threshold.”

He turns to Evander. “If at any point you feel faint or your reserves begin to drain too quickly, speak. You are the anchor here. Understood?”

Evander nods, shoulders tensing. “Understood.”

“And you,” Hill says, turning back to me, “are the current. I want you to feel the flow, not command it, not cage it. Know when it begins to burn. Know the warning signs.”

I swallow hard, nodding once. “Okay.”

“Begin.”