Dark Magic

By Cali Mann

This witch makes all the wrong choices, especially when it comes to love.

 

First-year at college and I'm already drowning in classes. But I've got the sexiest TA alive for a tutor, and I'm sleeping with his smoking hot vampire brother. All should be on the up and up until I discover the brothers are cursed.

 

Dark magic has broken my men and messing with it could turn me dark. But if I do nothing, a vengeful ex could snatch the choice out of my hands.

I've never made the best choices, in life or in love. Can I do it this time, when my lovers' lives hang in the balance?

 

Grab this steamy, menage romance standalone full of magic, vampires, dangerous curses, and love. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thornfire Publishing Co
• Release date: Jan 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201195403

Book preview

Dark Magic

Cali Mann

Thornfire Publishing Co.

Copyright © 2021 by Cali Mann

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Cover art by Paradise Cover Design.

Editing by Word Faery.

Contents

1.Greer

2.Seb

3.Greer

4.Seb

5.Greer

6.Greer

7.Bash

8.Greer

9.Seb

10.Greer

11.Bash

12.Greer

13.Bash

14.Seb

15.Greer

16.Seb

17.Greer

18.Bash

19.Greer

20.Greer

About the Author

Also By

Greer

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Three weeks on campus and already I was in trouble. I gazed at the office hours printed on Professor Cantrell’s door and willed them to change, but I didn’t put any magic behind the thought. My dads had insisted, if they let me come all the way across the country to this northeastern college, there was one rule: no magicking mortals. I grimaced. If I hadn’t made that agreement, I’d have just wished my bad grades away.

Instead, I slid down the cement wall and winced as I sat on the cold linoleum floor. Maybe a miniskirt and thin tights hadn’t been the best idea this far into the cool autumn. I slid my finger into my coffee and murmured the magic word that would make it heat up. All the warmth in the world wouldn’t make the bitter stuff taste better.

The professor‘s office hours were from one to four, so here I sat at 12:57 waiting for the door to open. I didn’t know why I’d signed up for History of the Celts anyway. It wasn’t on the required list and I’d promised my dads that I’d take a break my first semester and take some time to get to know the school. Instead, like an idiot, I’d signed up for five classes instead of the required four and chose some of the toughest.

Someone turned the corner and walked toward me, his head down and his hands full of coffee cups. He dressed like a professor, in his button-up shirt and pants, but he was young enough to be a student. For a bit of a nerd—hey, I admit my snap judgments—he had broad shoulders and the hint of solid muscles beneath the fabric. A generous package rested between his—well, can’t blame a girl for looking. His black hair was a little long as if he hadn’t had time to get it cut.

As he got closer, he glanced up and I met those eyes. They were a startling cobalt blue, deep enough to drown in. I had to fan myself a little as I stumbled to my feet.

Office hours don’t start until one, he barked, trying to balance two coffees and dig for his keys at the same time.

My hands went out immediately. Can I hold those for you?

No, he muttered. He shoved the key in the lock and opened the door.

My instant attraction was fading the more he spoke. How could someone so freaking hot be such a jerk? I need to talk to Professor Cantrell—

Well, he’s not here, is he? He set the coffees on the large wooden desk. Overflowing with papers and books, there wasn’t much room for the drinks.

I blinked. No, but I’m just waiting.

He set his backpack on the floor. Then his arm came up and he pointed toward the hall. Wait out there.

The office was comfortable, with two plush chairs in addition to the professor’s desk chair. Why would he want me to wait outside? I dropped down into one of the armchairs, flipping my green hair back. I don’t think so.

He growled at me—literally growled. I peered at him more closely. Was I dealing with a werewolf? I hadn’t expected to run into too many other magical folks at a human college, but it was possible. I took a whiff, trying to make out his fragrance over the dusty smell of books, papers, and coffee. But I wasn’t close enough to get a read on him. Werewolves usually had a kind of mangy dog smell even when they were cleaned up. I stood up and moved toward him.

What do you think you’re doing? he asked, backing away.

Trying to smell you.

He backed away, and his freaked-out look was pure gold. No one could act that well. He wasn’t a shifter. I shrugged and returned to my seat. Guess I was wrong.

Leave, he ordered again as if he expected this was going to be the time I chose to listen to him.

I don’t think so, I said, leaning back and crossing my legs.

He took a gulp of his coffee, squeezing the cup so hard that it buckled.

I’m Greer, by the way, I said.

I know, he muttered.

I sat up, studying him. You know?

Yeah, he said, flipping through a pile of papers. Tuesday and Thursday you sit in the third row near the back.

Had he been watching me? That gave me a little thrill despite his attitude. He was nice to look at even if he was a brat. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed him. Where do you sit?

He rolled his eyes like he was twelve years old instead of twenty-one, maybe twenty-two.

Dork. I snorted.

I’m Professor Cantrell’s teaching assistant. He introduced me on the first day. He sorted the papers, stacking up some on one side and some on the other.

Must have missed it, I said, taking a sip of my lukewarm coffee.

Well, you’ve been missing a lot, Greer. You’re gonna have to work a lot harder if you want to pass this class.

I twirled one of my green curls around my fingers. I know. That’s why I’m here.

The office door opened and Professor Cantrell bustled in, his gray head bent and his arms full of paperwork. He nodded to me and handed the pile to his TA. Thanks, Seb. Make sure you get those graded today.

Seb nodded.

I stood, folding my hands in front of me, trying to look contrite.

The professor glanced over at me. Hello, young lady, … um…

Greer Rivers, Seb supplied helpfully.

Yes, Miss Rivers, the professor said. He had a soft face, piled with little wrinkles and a grey beard. How can I help you?

I’m in your History of Celts class, professor, I said, wringing my hands. And I’m afraid I’m not doing very well.

I see, he said, gesturing to Seb, who passed him some papers. He looked them over and grimaced. Not well at all, my dear. In fact, you’re failing.

Yes, I seemed to have overbooked myself. See, I was just so excited about all the different classes and I didn’t realize, well, exactly how much work would be involved. I’d felt like I’d made the same speech so many times. Dad used to tease that I should have I just didn’t realize . . . tattooed across my forehead.

Professor Cantrell tapped a pencil against his chin. Is the drop period still open, Seb?

No, sir.

Shoot. I was hoping I was in time. That’d been my backup plan. Just drop the classes that I wasn’t keeping up with. But that deadline had passed, and I hadn’t known.

Well, there’s nothing for it, Professor Cantrell said.

I swallowed. Nothing?

First year of college and I was already getting an ‘F’. I chewed on my lip. A little bit of magic and I could make it all better, but I’d promised. Papa would be furious if I cheated. Even more than Dad, he insisted that using magic to get ahead in the mortal world was wrong.

Professor Cantrell nodded. Seb will just have to tutor you until you’re up to speed.

My jaw dropped, my eyes darting to his surly assistant. Seb?

The professor smiled. Yes, he’s an excellent tutor and I know for a fact that he has a couple of spots open this term. Don’t you?

Seb looked as uncomfortable as I felt, but he said, Of course, Professor.

Excellent. It’s settled then, Professor Cantrell said, sitting down and looking through the two piles Seb had made earlier. Glancing up, he waved at Seb. Go on and make your arrangements.

Seb pulled a paperback planner out of his backpack and marched over to me. He flipped it open, looking at me expectantly.

I stared. Bad enough I had to be tutored by this jerk, but I was dumbfounded at someone our age using a paper planner. I couldn’t process what he wanted. Didn’t he have a cell phone?

He sighed. When are your free periods? I only do tutoring between eight and five.

Eight P.M.? I asked. I wasn’t giving up my evenings to hang out with Seb, even if he smelled really good. What kind of aftershave was that? I tried to pick out the pieces so I could tell Dad about it. Kind of an autumn spice—cinnamon or was that nutmeg? Dad loved scents and he’d love this one.

No, between eight A.M. and five P.M. When are you free between classes?

I shook my head. "I don’t