The victory celebration in the dining hall dragged on, but Kai slipped away early. The cheers and toasts meant nothing compared to what he had planned tonight.
He moved through the shadowed corridors of the faculty wing, footsteps muffled on the polished stone floors that still held the day's residual warmth.
Moonlight filtered through tall stained-glass windows, splashing jewel-toned patterns, crimson, indigo, emerald, across the walls.
The air carried the faint, dry scent of old
parchment, melted candle wax, and the subtle metallic ozone of lingering spellwork from afternoon lectures.
Most professors would be at the faculty lounge or asleep. But not her.
Professor Elara Veyne's office door stood ajar, a thin blade of golden lamplight spilling into the hallway like an invitation.
Kai paused, listening. The soft, deliberate scratch of a quill on thick paper. The occasional rustle of pages turning. A faint exhale, almost a sigh.
She was alone.
He knocked once, sharp, deliberate.
"Come in," her voice answered, low and velvet-smooth, the kind that could silence a lecture hall or murmur secrets in the dark.
Kai pushed the door open.
Elara sat behind a broad mahogany desk piled high with forbidden tomes, glowing rune stones, and scattered vials of dark, viscous liquids.
Late thirties, yet her skin was flawless, porcelain pale against cascading raven hair that spilled over one shoulder like liquid night.
Crimson lips curved in faint, perpetual amusement. Violet eyes sharp enough to cut.
Her black professor's robe clung to every dangerous curve: full breasts straining the severe cut, narrow waist flaring into hips that shifted subtly as she leaned back.
In his first life, Kai had spent countless lectures trying not to stare. She had always seemed untouchable, brilliant, powerful, whispered to dabble in arts the academy banned.
Now he knew the truth.
Those violet eyes lifted, surprise flickering across her perfect features.
"Mr… Kai, was it? The tournament champion." She set her quill down with a soft clink against the inkwell. The motion pulled her robe tighter across her chest; the fabric whispered against itself. "Bold of you to visit a professor's office so late. Most first-years are still drunk on victory wine."
Kai closed the door. The heavy oak thudded shut; the latch clicked like a verdict.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the folded scrap of parchment, one he'd liberated from the restricted archives that afternoon.
Elara's gaze sharpened as he unfolded it and laid it on her desk.
Her own elegant script stared back: notes on a blood ritual, soul-binding sigils, the kind of magic that ended careers, and lives.
The air grew thick, charged.
Elara's fingers tightened on the armrests; polished nails dug into dark leather with a faint creak.
"Where did you," she began, voice still steady but edged with ice.
"I know what this is, Professor," Kai interrupted quietly. "And I know what happens if the headmaster, or the Mage Council, sees it."
Silence stretched, broken only by the soft tick of a wall clock and the distant hoot of a night bird outside.
Elara rose slowly. Silk whispered against silk as her robe slid over her thighs. She was tall, eye-level with him in low-heeled boots, and the movement brought her scent crashing over him fully: jasmine, smoke, and warm female skin.
"What do you want?" The words were calm, but he caught the faint tremor beneath, felt the sudden heat radiating from her body.
Kai stepped around the desk until only inches separated them. Close enough to see the quickened rise and fall of her chest, the way her pupils dilated in the lamplight.
"You," he said.
Her breath caught, a soft, audible hitch that fogged the air between them. Anger flashed in her eyes, but beneath it something darker flickered.
"You think you can blackmail me, boy?" she hissed, yet she didn't retreat.
"I know I can." Kai's fingers brushed the edge of her robe where it gaped at the throat. Her skin was fever-hot, pulse racing beneath thin silk. "And I think part of you wonders what it feels like to lose control for once."
Her hand shot up, closing around his wrist, nails biting into skin, but she didn't push him away.
"You have no idea what you're playing with," she warned, voice dropping to a dangerous purr.
"Then teach me," Kai murmured, leaning in until his lips grazed the shell of her ear. Her hair brushed his cheek, cool silk scented with jasmine. "Or I walk out that door with this note… and everything you've built burns."
A long, electric pause.
Then her grip loosened. Her eyes darkened, lashes lowering as she exhaled shakily.
"Lock the door."
Kai's smile was slow.
He turned, flicked two fingers, a locking ward flared softly across the wood, followed by a soundproofing veil that shimmered and settled like falling dust. The room sealed. No one would hear.
When he faced her again, Elara had shrugged off her outer robe. It pooled at her feet in a dark cascade, revealing a fitted black dress beneath, low-cut, clinging like a second skin.
Lace trimmed the neckline. No bra. Her nipples pressed visibly against thin fabric, already peaked.
She stepped into him, hands sliding up his chest, nails scraping lightly through cotton.
"You want to play this game, little champion?" she whispered, breath hot against his jaw. "Fine. But don't cry when it gets rough."
Kai didn't answer with words.
He caught her wrists, spun her, and pressed her back against the desk. Papers scattered with dry rustles; inkwells rocked and clinked.
With deliberate slowness, he lifted her arms above her head, pinning both slender wrists in one hand against the cool mahogany surface.
Elara's breath quickened, sharp, shallow puffs that stirred the loose strands of her raven hair.
Her body arched instinctively, breasts thrusting forward against the tight dress.
Kai leaned down, lips brushing the sensitive column of her throat. He tasted salt and jasmine, felt her pulse hammering beneath velvet skin.
Slowly, deliberately, he trailed open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, then lower, teeth tugging at the lace edge until the fabric gave way with a soft rip.
Her breasts spilled free, heavy, perfect, dusky nipples drawn tight in the warm lamplight. He didn't rush to them. Instead, he dragged his tongue in a slow, wet path up the soft underside of one breast, savoring the faint tremor that ran through her.
Elara's hips shifted restlessly against the desk's edge; a low, frustrated sound escaped her throat.
Only then did he close his mouth over one nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. Her back bowed; the hand pinning her wrists tightened as she strained against him.
He moved to the other breast, lavishing the same attention until both peaks were swollen and glistening with his saliva. Her moans grew throatier, less controlled.
But he wasn't done.
Kai released her wrists just long enough to push her fully onto the desk, flat on her back amid scattered books and glowing runes.
He lifted her arms again, stretching them high above her head, forcing her body into a long, submissive line.
The position exposed the smooth hollows of her underarms, pale, flawless skin rarely seen, faintly damp with the heat of arousal. The scent there was stronger: jasmine intensified by warm skin and the subtle, intimate musk of her body.
He lowered his head slowly, letting her feel his breath first, hot against cool skin. Elara's eyes widened, a flicker of shock and something deeper crossing her face.
Kai didn't hesitate.
His tongue traced the soft curve of one armpit, slow, deliberate licks that gathered the salty-sweet taste of her.
She shuddered violently, a full-body tremor that made her breasts quiver and her thighs clench. A broken moan tore from her lips, raw, surprised, utterly unguarded.
He sucked gently at the sensitive skin, teeth grazing lightly, then moved to the other side, repeating the intimate worship. Each lick, each soft bite drew new sounds from her: whimpers, gasps, the slick shift of her hips seeking friction against nothing.
Only when she was trembling uncontrollably, breath coming in desperate pants, did he finally slide a hand between her thighs.
She was drenched, slick heat coating his fingers the moment he pushed her dress higher. No panties. Just bare, swollen flesh begging for touch.
He teased her slowly at first, fingers gliding through wet folds, circling her clit with feather-light strokes that made her hips buck. Then two fingers plunged deep, curling, stroking that spot inside until her moans turned into pleading cries.
When she came the first time, it was with her arms still stretched above her head, body arched like an offering, walls pulsing around his fingers, release soaking his hand and the desk beneath her.
Kai withdrew only long enough to free himself, fabric rasping, cock heavy and aching in the warm air.
He dragged the head through her wetness, coating himself, teasing her oversensitive clit until she sobbed his name.
Then he pushed inside, slow, relentless inches that stretched her around him. Elara's legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, heels digging into his back as he bottomed out.
He kept her arms pinned the entire time, forcing her to take every deep, measured thrust while she remained exposed and submissive beneath him.
The desk creaked rhythmically; books slid to the floor with soft thuds.
Her second orgasm built slower but hit harder, body seizing, inner walls clamping down in waves that dragged a guttural groan from his throat. Kai followed moments later, pulling out to spill hot across her stomach and breasts in thick pulses, marking her pale skin.
They stayed like that, her stretched out beneath him, chest heaving, arms still raised in surrender. Sweat cooled on their skin; the air was thick with jasmine, sex, and the faint crackle of spent magic.
Eventually, Elara's arms lowered slowly, trembling. She sat up, hair wild, lips swollen, his release glistening on her skin.
"You're going to burn that note," she rasped.
Kai picked up the parchment, held it over the lamp flame. It curled, blackened, turned to ash that drifted like dark snow.
"Done."
Elara traced a finger through the mess on her breast, bringing it to her lips, tasting him with deliberate slowness.
"This isn't over," she murmured, a dangerous smile curving crimson lips. "You've awakened something, boy. Be careful it doesn't consume you."
Kai leaned in, kissing her once more, slow, filthy.
"I'm counting on it, Professor."
He left her there, disheveled, marked, pupils still blown with lingering hunger.
Outside, the corridor felt colder, the night sharper.
But inside him, fire roared.
One down.
And the real lessons had only just begun.