Ravage Lacey Andersen (great reads txt) 📖

Bloodmore. I have two powerful houses running through my blood. A piece of iron can’t stop me on my quest to find the truth. Nothing can.

“Thirty,” he says.

I blink and realize he’s reaching for the cross.

I hand it to him, then turn and head for my desk.

“Was it painful?” the professor calls after me.

I look back at him. “Only for the weak.”

He smirks and turns back toward the cabinet.

Unable to help myself, I reach out with my mind and find his legs. With little more than a thought, I squeeze, and the professor falls over, hitting the ground hard. A second later, he starts screaming, but I hold his body for one second, then two, before releasing him.

He climbs to his feet, and turns back toward us. I see the slight pink outline of the cross on his face. He picks it off the ground, then shoves the iron cross back into the cabinet. When he turns around, his gaze sweeps to me.

I try my best to look innocent.

“Are you okay?” a fae woman says, half-standing.

“I’m fine,” he says, still not looking away from me. “Just tripped.”

I keep the innocent look painted on my face. The professor takes off his gloves and closes the cabinet. Then he circles the board and starts to talk about the history of iron, even though there’s anger in his voice as he does so.

Next to me, Bron whispers, “Are your hands okay?”

I fold them in my lap and bite down on a hiss of pain. They’re definitely not okay, but I don’t tell him that.

I’m shocked when he snatches my wrist and drags my hand over to him.

“Open it,” he commands.

The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself or my hands, but I’ve seen that look on Bron’s face before. He’s not going to let this go, so the easiest thing to do is obey him and shut him up. So, slowly, I open my hand.

He inhales sharply, and I don’t blame him. It looks like I have a fucking third degree burn on my hand in the shape of a cross. There’s even blisters in the red, raw skin.

His gaze snaps to me, and I dare him to say a word. I dare him to ask me if I’m a dark fae. But instead he says, “The other hand too.”

I’m confused, but I give it to him. Looking around the room, everyone else seems transfixed, and the professor seems caught in his own boring story. No one’s looking at Bron or I.

When I glance back, my skin’s tingling again, but this time the feeling is pleasant, not painful. Bron’s eyes are closed, and he holds his big hand out inches from mine. It’s hard to catch my breath as a warm feeling spreads from my hands down my body. My nipples tighten, and heat grows at my core.

He pulls his hand away, and I’m shocked to see the skin of my hands looks a hell of a lot better. More like his skin. Just a little pink and irritated, not a blistered mess.

“How did you do that?” I whisper.

He releases my hand and shrugs.

I sit back in my chair, but can’t stop staring at him. Powerful fae have unique abilities, but I guess I’d never seen Bron as powerful. Yes, his house was almost equal with my own, but he always seemed like the kind of guy to never take any of this too seriously. How had he learned an ability as rare as healing?

And why the hell did a light fae’s powers turn me on? Usually I liked my men dark, dangerous, and sexy. Bron was the closest that a light fae could get to those things, but healing shouldn’t have been on my list of things that got me wet.

I jump a little when the bell rings, and I grab my bag.

But when I try to hurry out, the professor grabs my arm and hauls me around. “Show the class your hands.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop.

“Excuse me?”

“Come on,” he hisses, “show them and prove to everyone what you are.”

I look out at the room. Every gaze I meet immediately looks away. So everyone believes I take after my father? That they’ve let a dark fae in?

The professor shakes me a little. “Show them!”

“Take your hands off of her!” Bron is out of his seat, breathing hard. “Take your goddamn hands off of her unless you want to lose them!”

“Come on now, Bron. You made the mistake of befriending her brother, don’t repeat that mistake.”

Mistake? How dare he speak about my brother like that! I slowly open my hands and reveal them to the class.

“Apparently you’re the one who’s made a mistake,” I say, drawing out each word.

The tension fades and the students are no longer looking at me, they’re looking at the professor, and they’re not happy. I guess it didn’t matter when they thought he was assaulting a dark fae, but god forbid he hurts one of his own kind.

Professor Ericson drops his grip on me.

I’m about to square off with him when Bron is suddenly at my side. His entire body seems to swell, and the professor’s eyes widen, before he takes a step back. “You’ve got your proof. Now if you ever put your hands on her again, I want you to remember that she’s a Bloodmore, and also that the House of Drake and the House of Silver and the House of Luther are their trusted allies. Our families, and the Ash family, rule the East, as allies. So if ever we should think you’re targeting one of our allies, our families will have to step in, and believe me when I say that they’ll reduce you to rubble.”

Bron places his hand gently on my back, turning me toward the door, and then he’s rushing me outside. Part of me wants to reach back out for the miserable professor and break his fucking arm, or his fucking leg. Anything to