Rite and fire, p.1
Rite & Fire, page 1
Copyright © 2021 by Jade Bones
All rights reserved.
Website: https://www.jadebonesauthor.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions or locales is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Rite & Fire is a paranormal romance with graphic descriptions of intimacy and potentially triggering situations, particularly with regard to blood magic. Read responsibly. Intended for mature readers.
Rite & Fire
I dreamed of my demon long before I met him. It’s just a shame the dream turned out to be a lie.
Everything about Dremen Academy has turned out to be a lie. My childhood best friend is a traitor asshole; my bonded demon, Mikael, couldn’t give less of a shit if I live or die; and now I’m locked up in some evil spell that wants to kill me. The chosen method of death? Trapping me in dreams and nightmares, like I chased a white rabbit down one too many rabbit holes.
Everyone wants something from me.
They all want me to break down.
Sorry to disappoint, but breaking down isn’t in my vocabulary. I’m going to haul my ass out of this mess with or without help. The only question is: will I do it like a witch, or will the hidden power that lies dormant in my veins win the fight?
Just like everyone else, this power wants something from me. Desire. Dreams. Mikael. But maybe it knows something I don’t, because Mikael has begun to look at me like he dreams of me, too. If this power is what I think it is, it would know.
The succubus in me has been asleep for a long time. I think she’s finally waking up.
Rite & Fire is a paranormal romance with graphic descriptions of intimacy and potentially triggering situations, particularly with regard to blood magic. Read responsibly. Intended for mature readers, 18+.
Rite & Fire
Jade Bones
Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
Craving Violet and Alaztair’s story?
Lock & Portal
Heart & Soul
About the Author
Also by Jade Bones
ONE
BETH
There’s a place in this academy where only demons go, but I know the way. I dreamed it, like I dream everything important, and when I went there in the daytime, the door opened for me.
I’m not a demon, but the door opened.
Voices whispered to me from inside, alluring and gentle, like the promise of tomorrow’s dawn, and I stood there with the handle in my hand and froze. Stepping through, I would become something else. A player in a game I didn’t understand. A witch in a demon’s world.
The dream had told me as much.
I recalled the dream as I stood there, remembering how a man’s voice had drifted through the open crack of the door—deep, powerful—making my blood sing. Although I couldn’t understand the words he spoke, I understood their meaning. All I had ever dreamed of lay behind that door. He lay behind the door.
I ran my fingers across the top of the handle, watching as the carefully placed spikes dragged into my skin, threatening to pierce it. Pausing, I pressed my thumb against the sharpest point, watched the crimson droplet well up, and withdrew before it could fall. The message was clear: the door would open for me any time I chose to. All it required of me was blood.
All they ever fucking require of me is blood.
I closed the door and walked away.
The third time I try to juggle my books so I can take a sip of the flask hidden in my jacket, I drop them all over the stairs.
Staring down at the pile of now partially damaged texts, I sigh, thump my fist against the banister, and then pick them up one by one. At least I didn’t drop the flask, I suppose, and I take a long sip of the liqueur I’ve hidden inside. Some witches can cast lightening spells on their books and carry twenty around at once, like some kind of nymph-looking bodybuilder. Needless to say, I am not one of those witches, and if I was, I’d probably drop the bloody things then, too.
“Want a hand?” Mikael asks from the top of the stairs, drumming his fingers against the banister with an exasperated look in his eye.
With his light brown hair, perfectly coiffed like an eighties model, sharp jaw, and intelligent eyes, he radiates boredom and calm superiority. As though he doesn’t care that his witch has just upended half a shelf worth of books onto the stairs while juggling contraband. Which he doesn’t. He doesn’t care about anything.
“Bite me.”
“And make you drop your books for a fourth time?” He laughs, a low chuckle that sends pure rage coursing through my chest.
Mikael winces, my anger no doubt flooding the bond with heat and spice he’d rather not consume. As a sadness demon—yeah, don’t bloody ask—he prefers me to be mellow and cold. Not likely.
I hold his glare, taking another slow sip from the flask before screwing the lid on and slipping it back in my jacket. Chocolate liqueur was definitely the right choice, if only because I know I look damn satisfied afterward. It’s a ridiculous power-play, just like it always is between us. Mikael pushing all my buttons, and me refusing to give in when it’s literally the only thing required of me—the only thing that stands between me and everything I want.
But come on. Like I’m going to cry for him.
I don’t cry for anyone.
“We’ll be late,” Mikael calls, although the reclined lounge he affects against the railing proves he doesn’t care.
At least I won’t have to put up with this for much longer. You’re meant to continue with the same demon until graduation, but I delivered some… questionable… potion reagents for a witch interstate, and in return she’s sending me something that will sever our bond entirely, because the Summoning ritual doesn’t work if there are any other bonds tying your power. A few more weeks, and I’ll have a new demon.
“The ritual can’t start without us,” I point out, finally making it up to the landing beside him and ignoring the piercing look he gives me.
The wall sconces flicker, sending flames and shadows dancing across our faces.
“Sure it can,” he says, pushing lazily off the wall and leading the way up the final staircase to the classroom. “They can sub Violet in instead.”
The gasp that escapes me is completely unbidden. “They wouldn’t.”
Not that I’d be upset to miss this. Are you kidding me? I could be sleeping right now. I couldn’t give a fuck about this ritual.
The problem is that Tatiana will be pissed if I don’t make it.
My entire existence at this academy is dependent on making sure Tatiana isn’t pissed at me. Actually, not to be too dramatic about it, but my whole position in society is dependent on that, and on maintaining the subtle balance of threats between us. After two years of mutually ignoring each other, I’d been getting complacent.
I’m an idiot for not realizing she might use this as an opportunity to make me beg again.
“Why not?” Mikael asks. “She and Alaztair are working well lately.” There’s an unexpected edge to his voice as he references their failing bond—recently fixed, Devil knows how—and I can’t help but feel he’s blaming me for ours. “And I think the only requirement was a proficiency in bodily levitation. She probably wouldn’t even need to bring an entire library with her for one ritual,” he finishes drily, staring at my books with a raised eyebrow.
I’m too shocked to even rise to the bait. “There’s no way that’s happening,” I mutter, shoving past him and hurrying up the final flight to the corridor.
The portraits leer down at me as I scurry down the hall, dark and lifeless faces contorted into masks that the academy values—discipline and strength. Power. Fear.
A flash of light catches my eye, and for a minute I think there is someone watching me from the alcove, eyes glinting in the flame from the wall sconce opposite. I stumble, head whipping back, brain racing as I mentally place the face into: familiar, known.
It can’t be him… I’ve only ever seen him in dreams.
But the alcove is empty, so I shake my head and run on.
I round the corner of the classroom designated for tonight’s secret ritual and barrel straight into Violet.
“Oof, sorry,” I gasp, managing at the last second to catch my books.
Then I realize what it means that she’s here. My face falls.
“They’ve replaced me,” I say dully.
I’m screwed.
Violet frowns, then her eyes widen. “No! I was looking for you, actually.”
“Me?” It’s my turn to look confused.
Violet and I have never exactly sought each other out. I wasn’t even sure she knew my name.
That’s kind of my thing. I see them; they don’t see me. I prefer it that way.
“Yes, you, you goof,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes that has me stumbling mentally off center. “Can we talk somewhere private?”
I stare past her to the circle of witches waiting for me. They haven’t realized I’m here yet, still gossiping. There’s a bottle of flavored vodka making its way around the circle.
“Can you make it quick?” I ask, looking back at Violet. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
She chews her lip, an exasperated expression taking over her features. “I really think we should go elsewhere.”
“Then it’ll have to wait,” I snap.
“We don’t have time!” She tips her head back, frustration slipping out in a huff, before she turns back and whispers urgently. “You’re in danger. Someone’s coming for you, and probably soon.”
That gets my attention. Mikael appears beside me, brow furrowed as he fixes his attention on her. “Who’s coming?”
“A demon king,” Violet says seriously, and the fear rising in me suddenly stutters into disbelief.
“Oh my god,” I mutter, gaping at her. “You’ve finally lost it.”
“I have not,” she snaps. “Now, will you come with me? I have to tell you about the succubus keys.”
I hope that when I finally lose the plot, it’s this interesting. Violet’s really going for it here. Succubi? Keys?
“Shall I pick you up a pot of gold from the end of the rainbow while I’m at it?” I ask incredulously when I can finally speak.
Someone interrupts us before Violet can snap at me again. “Oh good, there you are. When you’re done talking about sex demons, maybe we can start?”
I freeze, staring in at the classroom. Every single head is turned my way, and if they didn’t like me much before, they hate me now. The ones who aren’t laughing at me, that is.
Lovely.
“Can one of you just sit in the fucking circle?” Tatiana continues in a low drawl, adjusting her varsity jacket so she can pick imaginary bits of lint off it.
Our university jackets aren’t worn by the track team, since witches and track don’t go so well together. We leave that to our sister school, the Shifter College on the other side of the state. No, our varsity jackets are worn by those who make it into the elite Moonfire club.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but that club is full of assholes—a fact I know intimately. We might have been children last time I willingly spoke to Tatiana, but she blackmailed me like a pro. Tit for tat, once the power she wrangled from me wore off, I wrestled her into submission and locked her in a cupboard until she swore never to do that again.
I’ve always been good at wrestling.
Then, when we joined the academy, I swore I’d get her scholarship revoked if she tried anything. Since then, we’ve existed in peaceable disharmony: she doesn’t expose my power to the world, and I don’t ruin her life.
But threatening to get Tatiana’s scholarship pulled if she tries any shit with me only works while there’s a scholarship to pull, and we’re halfway to graduation. I should have thought up a new safeguard.
Anyway, that’s the kind of person this club favors. If Mikael was a witch instead of a demon, he’d be running the damn thing.
“Depends what you think you’re doing with that chalice,” Alaztair, Violet’s scruffy-looking punk demon, says with a sneer.
I hadn’t noticed him before, perched on one of the tables beside the other demons—all of whom look various levels of uninterested in this ritual.
“Use your brain,” Tatiana says, rolling her eyes. “What do you think we’re doing with the chalice? It’s a chalice. We drink out of it.”
Alaztair leans forward, legs dropping off the edge of the table and a menacing frown appearing on his face. “Drink what?” he mutters lowly, and I can hear Mikael suck in a breath from the doorway behind me, eyes fixed on the chalice. Alaztair’s next words make it apparent why as he says, “That’s a blood chalice.”
Blood.
We’re drinking blood tonight?
Then I see the shifty expressions on their faces, sense the rising fury in Mikael through our bond. ‘Blood’ isn’t the question; the question is whose blood.
I was never invited to this ritual. I was baited into its sacrifice.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mikael growls, and I jolt a little at the deep rumble of his voice, the familiar echo of a language I can’t understand within his words.
The old tongue. He mumbles it sometimes beneath his breath and it makes my heart race for reasons I don’t want to think about.
“We’re not going to drink all of it,” Tatiana snaps, glaring at Alaztair and then me, like I’m the problem. “She won’t even feel woozy.”
“Why the hell do you need blood for a levitation ritual?” I ask, fingers twitching as I try to restrain myself from punching first and asking questions later.
One of the other girls whose name I don’t know giggles. “Because it’s blood we want to levitate,” she says, her friend beside her devolving into snickers.
Levitating blood? What the hell?
The metaphor of it hits me, along with the realization of why it might be beneficial to shift blood to certain areas of the body.
My body turns numb, and all I can think is: again? When will Tatiana have taken enough from me? When will this fucking end?
“It’s an aphrodisiac,” I say dully. “You’re doing a fucking sex spell.”
Someone sucks in a breath and then starts laughing. “Ooh, she swore!”
That’s it, I’m out of here.
“No way!” Tatiana’s agitated voice follows me, and the door slams in my face before I can escape. “We’ve prepped this for weeks. Don’t be so selfish, Beth! You know you’re the best choice for this.”
Mikael’s face contorts in a snarl of rage, looking so strange on his pretty features that I almost forget what I’m doing. The brown heat of his human eyes flickers, and the cold blue fire of his demonic gaze suddenly shines through. It’s the only part of his features that doesn’t look human, and I don’t see it often.
In fact, I’ve never seen him look like this before at all. Wrathful, vengeful—like he cares about something other than himself. Which is, of course, impossible. For a moment, I’m breathless, caught by the sight of him and everything I forgot I once hoped.
That’s what hurts the most about Mikael: I’d dreamed of something different. It was his voice I heard behind the door in my dream, and when he appeared before me on Summoning Day, for a few precious seconds, I’d thought my dream had been answered. He stood before me, the flame of the Summoning ritual binding us, surrounding us. Those same words he’d said in my dream echoed within our cocoon of fire, unintelligible to me since I don’t speak the old tongue but captivating me all the same. His eyes—that strange, pale blue—had burned as he watched me, face twisted into a raw, unfathomable expression.
But then it all changed, his expression masking over with something like fear, and he closed off from me. Rejected me.
My dream was mistaken, and now I count down the days until I can repeat the Summoning ritual and bind a new demon to me. One who actually cares.
One who wants more from me than vulnerability and pain.
I wrench my gaze away just as Tatiana’s hand clamps down on my shoulder and chaos breaks out.
Tatiana flies through the air as Violet propels her backward with some spell I don’t hear properly, and everyone begins yelling. Alaztair is visibly restraining Mikael from attacking the crowd, flame dancing uncontrollably at his fingertips, though I can’t for the life of me work out why he’s so angry.
And a niggling, tugging sensation in my chest twists my internal organs, sending me to my knees while—bizarrely—Violet’s words echo in my mind.
I have to tell you about succubus keys.
Something shifts in my head, and suddenly the brawl becomes more confusing than frightening. Didn’t we have this conversation last week? I thought she was bonkers and I’ve been ignoring her since. How did I forget that?
