Tarot Academy 4 - Sarah Piper Page 0,46

enough to say love can totally counter that kind of hate—not when people decide their personal beliefs are carte blanche for murder and imprisonment.” I look up at him again, tracing the line of his brow with my thumb, losing myself for a moment in the depths of his gray eyes. “But I do believe that love is where we start.”

Doc watches me closely for another beat, his gaze finally sweeping down to my lips, and then he lowers his head, kissing me with a soft, deep kiss that makes my toes curl.

He’s already sliding out of his boxers and climbing back into bed for a proper good-morning greeting, and I want nothing more than to give it to him. But first…

I press my hand against his chest and shake my head. “One more thing.”

“Is this about love?” He grins, hovering over me. “Because I swear I was about to shower you with it.”

“It’s more about… dating.”

“Dating?”

“See, I get that they may have done things differently in your day, back before the invention of the wheel. But modern girls have certain preferences when it comes to first dates.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you should enlighten this prehistoric cave-beast, then, and I’ll endeavor to do better.”

“I certainly hope so. Because as much as I enjoy a night under the stars with a few exotic cocktails, maybe next time we can do it in the real world, with better souvenirs and slightly less dire consequences.” I reach beneath the sheet and retrieve the souvenir in question, handing it over.

“The Chalice of Blood and Sorrow?” Doc leaps up from the bed, frantically searching the room for a place to stash it. “Goddess, you’re brilliant. I can’t believe you got it!”

“Doc. Did you honestly think I’d walk all that way and not bring this creepy-ass relic back for you?”

A smile breaks hard across his face. “With you, Miss Milan? I honestly don’t know what to think anymore.”

We can’t relocate the Chalice to the Fool’s Grave with the other objects until Baz and Kirin return—we need all of our blood to open the magickal boundary. So for now, Doc and I do some quick illusion magick, using a similar Moon spell to the one he and Professor Maddox used to cloak the Pentacle and Sword last time. Then, we stash the skull chalice in a dresser drawer under some of Doc’s T-shirts and socks.

“Is that… bacon?” I lift my nose in the air, tracking the scent. “They’re cooking breakfast down there!”

Doc shakes his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I guess this means I’m taking a rain check on tying you up again.”

“It’s a compelling offer.” I slide my hands up his chest, curling them around his broad shoulders. “But…”

“I know, I know. There’s bacon. I get it.”

“Thanks for understanding.” I stretch up on my toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. “But after that, I’m yours. I promise.”

He deepens our kiss, sliding his hands around my backside and lifting me up again, just like he did last night. I wrap my thighs around him, his rock-hard heat throbbing urgently between us.

Goddess, what was I thinking? The bacon can wait.

We’ve just fallen back into bed again when a loud crash downstairs startles us both.

“Was that the front door?” I ask.

“Baz, no!” Carly shouts. “Wait!”

I bolt upright in bed. “They’re back. Something’s wrong.”

We get dressed in record time, the commotion downstairs growing louder with each passing second.

“Fuck off, Kirin!” Baz shouts. “Move!”

There’s another crash, then we’re bolting out of the bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time.

The kitchen is a disaster, with pans scattered across the floor, half-cooked eggs spilled down the front of the stove, a carton of orange juice overturned on the counter.

Carly stands in the middle of it all, oven mitt and spatula raised in surrender, Isla and Nat flanking her with spatulas and spoons of their own, as if they’re all about to call on some ancient cooking goddess to save the day. Around the table, Kirin’s circling Baz like he’s trying to corner a wild animal.

And wild doesn’t even begin to describe him.

Feral comes a little closer, but even then… I barely recognize him. His red-brown eyes are crazed, his hair an unkempt mess. Black soot streaks his face, his clothes burned in places, torn in others. The smell of alcohol and singed magick nearly makes my eyes water. Kirin’s in a similar state, but he seems to have his faculties, which is more than I can say for Baz.

“Where is she?”