"I'm going to erase and replace that man-every man-from your mind," Alexander's grip on me tightens. A snarl escaping his lips to remind me exactly what he is. "By the time we're through, I'll be so deeply embedded in you, you'll ask yourself whethe...
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Sierra
I love watching things burn.
My entire life, I've been called a pyromaniac. Arsonist. Incendiary. There's just something so pure about fire. It was always something forbidden for me. Something everyone wants to touch but can't.
Except, I can.
I remember growing up and watching candles burn for hours. Observing the way the wax would melt instantly at it's touch. How it just disappeared as the fire cut through it. I remember going through a whole box of matches before my father swooped in and took it out of my hand.
"Don't play with fire, Sierra." He told me once. He always hated fire. How couldn't he? He was a firefighter before he retired.
And then one day, I touched it. On accident. At a camping event. Someone swung around with a marshmallow that was ablaze. It skimmed my arm and where it should have burnt me, it didn't.
So, I tried it again. I touched fire and I smiled when I realized it didn't 'burn' the way it should. It was warm and comforting. Hot—but not "burning." I don't know really what it means to feel a burn.
"Joder," Alejandro curses beside me. Our eyes traveling together up the beautiful courtyard of the Valley University. He links his arm with mine, grinning brightly. "Ya no estamos en Kansas."
I shove him lightly with my body, "We've never been anywhere remotely close to Kansas. No jodas."
It's our first day of class and I am absolutely giddy with excitement. Our tour guide, a young werewolf named Evan, is pointing out where everything is. I've personally never left the United States, but I do feel like I'm in some medieval castle or institution that belongs to Europe. The buildings are all beautiful stone and there's a large bell tower where the main University library is.
The Royal Palace is similar in the sense that it feels old. But the Castle is regal and grandiose. This is just...academic. Gorgeous.
There are werewolves—everywhere. We were all prepared for this. Our group—this little Coven in the making—is only roughly twenty students. We were all handpicked by the Wiccan Elders to partake in a new program that our mentor—Killian—has set up.
I wish our purple-eyed mentor was here. He saw us all off at the Royal Island a few days ago. Speaking to each of us individually. Truth be told, I've had a huge, little girl crush on him for a while now. The way a high schooler might think her English teacher is cute.
It's stupid but partially due to the fact that Killian is the one who found me. Or at least, he's the one who realized I had Magic. I didn't grow up in a Coven like Alejandro or my peers did. I didn't start my training at ten or twelve like everyone else. I was sixteen when my Magic couldn't take it any longer. The aftermath...not fun. Actually, quite catastrophic. I only got out of it because of Killian.
