I wanted to smash that smirk of his into a million pieces.
I knew none of that was real, though. I knew it was defenses, fear, embarrassment, horror at myself, at everything that lay under my attempts to convince myself to stay away from him. Gods. I wanted him. I really wanted him. It might even be more than that.
I winced at the thought, pressing my palms to my eyes.
Did he know? The thought that he might know made me feel sick. What a laugh he’d get with his royal friends if he did. Gods, I’d never hear the end of it.
The room remained dark and nearly silent as I fought to control myself. I could hear Jolie snoring lightly from the other bed, but it didn’t reassure me, didn’t do anything to relieve the anxiety mixed with mortification that closed my throat.
Caelum Bones.
I was having explicit sex dreams about Caelum-bloody-Bones.
And it wasn’t even the first one.
It was definitely the mostvividone, though.
It was also the one where Dream-Caelum had the most to say.
I didn’t know if I wanted to punch myself in the face, in some feeble attempt at aversion therapy, or go masturbate in the shower until I got the worst of it out of my system. I’d never felt so upside down and confused and disturbed by a sex dream (crush, don’t you mean?my mind supplied unhelpfully) in my life, even when I had the bizarrely graphic one about Professor Quicksilver. I could still feel Dream-Caelum’s fingers dug intothe meat of my arse, bruising my skin while he sucked on me with his tongue.
Gods, it felt so real.
I swore I could still smell him.
His presence swam all over me, on my tongue, between my legs. It clung like a scent, vibrating my skin, making me feel like I was losing my mind.
Gods-damn it.
I needed to get laid.
I needed to go out with someone else, to think about someone else.
Anyone. I didn’t even care who.
I had to find some way to purge myself of him.
I couldn’t fall back asleep.
In the end, I opted for a shower and masturbation, but even after two, shockingly intense orgasms at three in the morning, I still hadn’t been able to relax enough to go back to bed. I ended up pulling on clothes in my closet in the dark, and grabbing my mum’s journal off my bedside table. I filled the rest of my leather satchel with textbooks for class and files about my parents’ deaths, then headed for the common room downstairs.
In the end, I didn’t opt to stay there, however.
I had disturbing visions of Bones showing up before I was ready to see him, possibly with the rest of the royals in tow, so instead of risking that, I grabbed my coat and walked outside, trudging the however-many steps it took to bring me to Malcroix Mansion.
There, on the second floor of the east wing, I found Mortimer Frump Common Room unlocked, or “Frumpy’s,” as it was generally known.
I hung my coat up by the door and sank gratefully into a leather armchair when the fireplace on that side of the room roared to life. I felt an even stronger pulse of relief when a pot of herbal tea and a small plate of pumpkin biscuits appeared on the table by my arm.
I probably should’ve studied coursework, but I ended up rereading passages in my mother’s diary instead. Most of the material Bones collected remained in Compartment One of Experimental Magic Shed No. 4, but the diary stayed with me.
I still got anxious over the fact someone had given him the diary at all.
Were they an enemy, or a friend?
If theyweren’tfriendly, why would they want me to have Mum’s diary at all? Was there something in it they hoped might mislead me? Or did they not know Caelum and I were working together? In which case, maybe they hoped he’d use it against me?
Honestly, that didn’t ring true, though. It didn’t even make much sense.
