Deadly Sweet Page 9

  Parties? Could she be any vaguer? “Who would want to hurt me?”

  “Not you, specifically, but the Syndicate’s interests are always at risk.”

  We were going in circles. I had to call Mom and see if she could help me read between the lines of this you’re safe but not really that safe double-talk. For now, I’d cave on having protection, but maybe Lonnie could at least help improve my situation? “Is there any way I could get a different bodyguard?” Wynn was rude and annoying, and odds were he’d be asleep if and when anyone tried to abduct me.

  Or he’d let them take me so he didn’t have to deal with me anymore.

  “I’m afraid not. Wynn is contracted as your Shield. He’ll be with you as long as you stay at the bakeshop.”

  “Contracted as my…” What?

  For as long as I stayed?

  I gripped the edge of Lonnie’s desk, head spinning at thought of months with Wynn. Maybe years with Wynn. “What’s a Shield?” I could guess from the name, but if that “contract” involved a magical binding…

  Yikes. I needed to know the details. Was it a blood pact? A signing over of souls? It could even be a normal human legal contract. I hoped it was, otherwise I’d never get away from this guy.

  “Wynn is battle trained and can cast some limited defensive magics as long as you both stay close to the vortex. According to Zedock, he’s the best of the young Shields.”

  “Zedock?” Was that supposed to mean something? Or was Lonnie just throwing out jargon now?

  “Zedock manages the Shields. It’s really nothing for you to worry over, dear. Go to your classes and help out in the bakery. The Syndicate will watch over you.”

  Like they watched over Hayley?

  The words didn’t slip out, but the more Lonnie patted my head and insisted I was safe, the more suspicious this whole situation sounded. “What kind of contract is formed with a Shield?” Wynn so obviously hated me, I couldn’t imagine he’d wanted to sign on as my protector.

  “The specifics aren’t important. He’ll value your life above his own as long as you’re together and if his presence bothers you in the meantime, feel free to ignore him.”

  “But…” This seemed like a terrible deal for both of us. If he didn’t want me and I didn’t want him, then why bother?

  “There’s no escaping the contract,” she insisted before I could ask.

  When I finally left Lonnie’s office, I was the opposite of reassured. Did she know something else about Hayley? Was I the next likely target?

  But, no.

  No matter how much I came back to it, Hayley’s situation didn’t make sense. It didn’t sound like anyone had ever asked for money for her return, and no one had mentioned any signs of foul play. Whatever had happened had to be about her, and I genuinely couldn’t see anyone caring enough to come after me.

  I wasn’t even allowed to bake cakes for Agatha yet. What good was I as a hostage?

  Maybe someday I’d be good enough to get kidnapped, although that was a stupid thought. I didn’t want to be kidnapped. I just wanted to get better at the craft.

  Pausing at the bottom of the steps, I set down my backpack to dig for my keys. If I hurried, maybe I could get behind the wheel before Wynn beat me there.

  A jingling noise sounded before a shadow fell over me.

  Wynn.

  He twirled a set of keys around his finger. My keys. I almost made a grab for them, but unless we were hand-whipping egg whites, he’d be way faster than me.

  I picked up my bag and stood tall. “I’m driving today.”

  “No.” He headed out toward the garage while I cast mental daggers at his back. I considered doing an actual casting, but all I could think of was burning holes in his shirt and my magic was still too volatile for spellwork that fine. So, I wouldn’t risk setting Wynn on fire yet, but he was in deep shit if I ever got ahold of his laundry hamper.

  He slid behind the wheel of my car and I hopped in the back to be chauffeured. I seethed at his back most of the way, but when he pulled into the student lot, I leaned forward to jam a dollar into his cupholder. “For the great service.”

  His jaw clenched and a vein pulsed in his throat.

  I skipped off in a much better mood. Campus made it easier to forget my problems. My first class was food prep, which I was actually looking forward to because I wanted to sit the instructor down and grill her on what I was doing wrong chopping all the walnuts.

  Too bad today was the lecture instead of the lab. I had to wait a few more days before I could wear my crisp, new TCC whites.

  I’d never thought I’d get this far.

  I drummed the notebook clutched to my chest as I worked my way through the main class building. When I found my assigned room, I peeped around the doorframe to scope out the rest of the class. The room was maybe twenty seats and a whiteboard. Half the seats were filled and an older woman who had to be the instructor stood at the podium in front.

  Equal parts giddy and terrified, I stepped into my first college classroom.

  The instructor glanced up from her notebook. “Student or bodyguard?”

  “Student…” My mouth dried up when the whole room turned to stare, gazes flicking back and forth from me to Wynn.

  “Both of you?”

  I waited, but Wynn didn’t have the decency to answer for himself. He was going to make me say it out loud. My voice came out tiny and pained. “He’s my bodyguard.”

  “You take a seat. He can stand in back.”

  In any other class, I would’ve picked a seat toward the back or middle, but I wanted to put as much space between Wynn and me as I could. Although, I still wasn’t sitting in front. I slipped into the second row and hoped my blush would fade before class started. Being put on the spot was the worst. I promised myself I wouldn’t look back, but there was so much whispering behind me that I cracked.

  Wynn stood alone in the corner with his arms folded behind his back. The girl closest to him had her phone out and was snapping pics without the least bit of shame.

  He ignored her, gaze flicking warily around the room.

  When his attention landed on me, we locked eyes for a horrible second. The muscles in his face tightened, telling me exactly what he thought when he looked at me. I’d rather be anywhere else.

  I faced front. The feeling was so mutual. And why did people keep taking his picture? He wasn’t that impressive…

  I was pulling out my notebooks and lining up my pens when someone slid into the seat next to me.

  Him.

  My chocolate mousse.

  The one who knocked Wynn straight out of my brain.

  His short-sleeved hoodie showed off more of his tattoos today—a whisk on one forearm and a knife on the other. A bad boy chef?

  I wiped my lip in case I was drooling, but I couldn’t stop looking at him from the corner of my eye. His jawline was squarer than a chocolate bar and probably tasted twice as good. Lindt chocolate good. And he hummed with power. I’d have to greet him to get a real taste, but something in the energy reminded me of toasted almonds.

  A bad boy baker?

  I couldn’t be that blessed.

  He pulled out a well-used notebook and then tilted his head to the side—probably looking toward the window—but with me still staring, we awkwardly locked gazes. His darkly sexy eyebrows drew together, but after a second, he offered a half smile. “You new here?”

  My heart pumped like I was climbing Everest. “I’m—” One syllable out, and my spastic arms knocked my notebook to the floor.

  “Here.” Hottie McWitch leaned a long arm out to grab it for me. He offered it back with slender fingers and short nails, perfectly filed. For working dough?

  And why was I staring at his fingernails while he was still holding my book? I jerked forward to grab it back, brushing his hand in my rush.

  Sparks crackled and the smell of burnt bread ballooned through the classroom. His magic was a dark blue, richer and deeper than blueberry. Almos
t blackberry. It sparked against mine oven hot, and I dropped the notebook again.

  “Sorry.” I snatched it up along with the pens, my face oven hot, too. Checking out someone’s magic without permission was the rudest. Could I be any more of an idiot?

  His eyes narrowed. “Baking witch?”

  “Yeah.” I clutch my notebook to my chest so it would insulate the sound of my heart hammering. My armpits were sweating and I couldn’t remember if I’d put on deodorant after my shift this morning. I would’ve slicked myself in essential oils if I’d known who was in my class. But I still didn’t know his name. Swallowing the lump of embarrassment still stuck in my windpipe, I forced myself to keep talking because I really wanted to know what I should call him in my daydreams. “I’m Anise.”

  “Seth.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching out long legs.

  “Seth?” I would’ve expected a Damian, Chase, or Griffin. Something badass and mythical.

  Seth was so…Seth. But even if the name didn’t match the style, I hadn’t been this intrigued by a guy in forever.

  Before I could work up the courage to ask him anything else, our instructor clapped her hands to stop the murmuring. She waved a stack of index cards. “Everyone take a card and answer the questions on the whiteboard.”

  When Seth passed the cards, I was careful not to brush his hand. I bent straight to my desk. At least I couldn’t embarrass myself while I was busy writing. The questions were basic. Name, kitchen experience, current job, career goals. Writing Agatha’s Bakeshop still made me tingle with glee even if I wasn’t baking yet.

  “Cards to the front and left when you’re finished,” the instructor said.

  Already done, I handed my card to Seth—maybe a little too quickly? He didn’t look at me, but he did glance at my card. Then he rotated in his chair. “You work at Agatha’s?”

  I shrank under the full force of his attention. My mouth wasn’t coming up with an answer, but before my brain could kick-start itself, a chorus of whispers made me glance at the rest of the class. Seth’s voice had cracked the silence in the classroom, and everyone who’d overheard seemed to have an opinion. I couldn’t make out their exact words, but I could feel their eyes on my skin. Like lasers. I hunched down in my seat, but Seth was still staring.

  This would be the perfect time to impress him. Say something cool. Maybe a little flirty. But between the pressure of his gaze and the other stares… My brain turned to fluff. “I…just started working there.”

  “My, my.” The instructor turned from the whiteboard. “We have a celebrity in our midst.”

  “Not even close.” I tried to slink down deeper, but if I ducked anymore, I’d be sitting on the floor. Although that might be better than the stares. I’d known how important Agatha was, but I hadn’t really known, known until every eye in the room stuck to me just because I worked with the woman. Maybe because it was a cooking class everyone knew about her and her shop?

  “Don’t be so modest,” the instructor said, plucking my index card from Seth’s fingers. “You’re her apprentice? And a Wise, too? Blood relative?”

  “She’s my great aunt.” I didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone as another wave of whispers rolled.

  “There won’t be much chance for spellwork in Food Prep. Magic isn’t a prereq.” She nodded to the rest of the class. “Still. I’ll be interested to see what you can do.”

  No pressure.

  No pressure at all.

  The class settled down for the boring syllabus review, but I still felt the occasional glance and the overwhelming press of curiosity.

  When it was finally time to pack up, I took my time straightening my handouts and putting each pen neatly into my pencil case. People were milling at the door, and if they were waiting for me, I wasn’t giving them an opportunity. Nothing was worse than being put on the spot. No. Thing.

  “Anise?” Seth’s voice reached out.

  “Yeah?” My response was a sharp yelp. Great.

  “You’re a first year, right?”

  “Yeah?” Same yelp. Or was it panic?

  “In pastry?” Seth asked with those dream-blue eyes.

  “Ye—Uh huh.” I broke the chain, although I still sounded like a dumbo.

  “Let me guess. You have Baking I with Oates?”

  “Is that bad?” Oates was the instructor I’d been looking forward to the most. It was too perfect a name.

  He slung his backpack over his shoulder and fixed me with his brain-melting gaze. “Haven’t you met her? She works at Agatha’s.”

  I wracked my hazy early morning memories, but all I could remember were the ladies’ first names. But the chart in the break room… “Steffanie Oates?”

  “Good luck.” He patted my shoulder in the friendliest of taps, but the warmth of his fingertips shot through my whole arm. “She’s a taskmaster.”

  He gave me one last smile that sent my lungs packing on vacation. Why is Seth even talking to me? He was way too hot for me. Way too hot. But maybe the gods were throwing me a bone?

  When I could breathe again, my luck balanced itself right out, because Wynn stood in front of me with folded arms and a scowl. I pressed my hands to blotchy cheeks. Wynn could hover all he wanted.

  Until I stopped sweating over Seth, nothing in the mortal world was going to numb my glow.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, I spotted Seth in passing before class. I waved to him from across the quad. When he waved back before ducking into the lab building, I had to tuck my chin into my shirt to stop from grinning like a fool.

  I didn’t spot Gabi, but Blair and I ended up in Comp together. It made me feel fifty percent less like an outcast when Wynn could stand next to Blair’s two Servants. There were still whispers from our witch and non-witch classmates, but now they were split between us instead of piled all on my shoulders.

  Blair leveled a death glare my way as I slid into the desk next to her, and I couldn’t tell how seriously she meant it—necromancer and all. Hoping she’d spare my life, I pulled out the bag of fresh donuts I’d brought to school as bribes.

  Her expression shifted to a greedy smile as she snatched a chocolate glazed out of the paper sack. “Nice.”

  “There’s more.” And if snacks were the way to her heart, I’d fill my backpack with treats for the rest of the year. Blair hurried to scarf down the donut before class started, and I much preferred the happily preoccupied version of her to the one staring like she was peeling back my skin. Today, she wore a summery unicorn-print dress and eyeliner wings in ice blue.

  She looked she should own an Etsy shop, not a funeral parlor.

  “What?” She paused, probably feeling my attention.

  I couldn’t tell Blair she didn’t look like a necromancer because I knew better. And in ripped jean shorts and a Cookie Monster T-shirt, I didn’t fit the witch stereotype any more than she did. I mean, I liked wearing all black as much as the next girl, but not during summer in New Mexico. “I…like your dress.”

  She snorted, but her lip quirked. “That’s what you’re going with?”

  I did like it though. The unicorns had a little shimmer to them. Which reminded me. “Does Gabi’s family actually take care of unicorns?”

  She laugh-choked on a bite of donut. “Oh, God. Please ask her that.”

  That sounded like a no, but at least I had Blair smiling. Class started before I could make any other accidental jokes, and Blair licked her fingers before pulling out a notebook. Neither of us needed to write anything down. It was just another boring syllabus review and the instructor let us out early. When it was over, Blair leaned back in her seat with a deep yawn, and I couldn’t help mirroring her.

  “Let me guess,” she said after covering her mouth. “Agatha has you working mornings?”

  “I don’t know if you can call them mornings. We start at three.”

  Her nostrils flared. “And I thought my shifts sucked.”

  “You work nights?” It kinda
made sense if she was out there raising the dead. Although I had no idea if that was what she actually did every night. Maybe only on special occasions?

  “Came home from the cemetery at four.”

  “Ugh.” My job didn’t seem so bad in comparison. At least I got a few hours of sleep, and I only had to roll downstairs to the toasty-warm kitchen. I shivered at the thought of kicking around cemeteries in the chilly darkness.

  “Blair?” one of her Servants said, stepping up behind the desk. “There’s a service this afternoon. We’ll be late if—”

  Blair flicked a finger, and a wisp of magic cut across the space between them to choke off the lady’s voice. The woman grabbed her throat and shot the necromancer a dirty look.

  Blair rolled her eyes. “Like I’d forget.”

  I felt a sour presence at my back and knew Wynn must’ve joined me, but I was still trying my best to ignore him. Blair was doing the opposite. Her jaw opened wide as her gaze raked over my bodyguard. “That’s your Shield?”

  I wasn’t sure why she sounded so impressed, so I just shrugged. “For now.”

  “Lucky.” Blair cast a glance at the Servant still hovering behind her.

  My lips pressed tight together. Finding a penny on the sidewalk was lucky.

  Getting shackled to a narcoleptic bodyguard?

  Not lucky.

  I considered asking Blair about the Shield contracts, but given that her family could raise its own Servants from the dead, I doubted the specifics were the same. Plus, I didn’t want to keep her back when she needed to hurry home for necromancer things.

  Blair’s Servant tapped her shoulder, not even a little deterred that she couldn’t speak.

  “See you around.” Blair headed out, handing her bag to the Servant who still had a voice.

  I chewed my lower lip while they walked away. Maybe I was slowly winning her over? I hoped so. It was going to take gallons of friendship potions to keep her and Gabi around.

  A grumpy throat cleared behind me.

  The classroom was all empty desks, and even the instructor had snuck out while I stood staring into space. Wynn loomed behind me, an irritated lump between his eyebrows.