Magic Academy Jillian Keep BOOK DESCRIPTION Out of a young woman’s ambition comes a love triangle that could destroy more than her heart. Firia has always wanted to be a witch, but even though she’s a natural in magic, there’s a problem: She’s human. Considered by the elven elite to be inferior, Firia needs an edge to be accepted into the Magic Academy. Out of sheer desperation, she summons the demon Varuj, a terrifyingly gorgeous spirit who helps her win the entrance competition. But at what price? As the commanding demon does everything he can to penetrate every aspect of her innocent life, Firia still finds herself drawn to her study partner, Mae’lin. Not only is the sweet elf completely different from the powerful Varuj, but their relationship is forbidden. How is she supposed to choose between the demon she owes her life to and the innocent elf who makes her a better person? This thrilling coming of age new adult romance is from fantasy romance author, Jillian Keep. TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 CHAPTER 27 CHAPTER 28 CHAPTER 29 CHAPTER 30 CHAPTER 31 CHAPTER 32 CHAPTER 33 CHAPTER 34 CHAPTER 35 CHAPTER 36 CHAPTER 37 CHAPTER 38 CHAPTER 39 CHAPTER 40 CHAPTER 41 CHAPTER 42 CHAPTER 43 CHAPTER 44 CHAPTER 45 CHAPTER 46 CHAPTER 47 CHAPTER 48 CHAPTER 49 CHAPTER 50 CHAPTER 51 CHAPTER 52 CHAPTER 53 CHAPTER 54 CHAPTER 55 CHAPTER 56 NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS RECOMMENDED FOR YOU MORE BY JILLIAN KEEP BIOGRAPHY Chapter 1 Her father worked nights, but that suited her just fine. After all, he took her with him to hang out in the dark corridors of the Arcane Academy. It was a place so few humans had ever gone, and at night she didn’t have to deal with so many of the sour stares of the high elves. Instead she could simply wander, admiring the history and architecture of the great buildings. But she always went back to one in particular. The Grand Library. It contained more knowledge than she could ever hope or dream of, and the young woman felt truly alive there. She’d spent her childhood poring over heavy tomes of spells and secrets. Yet her ambitions were growing with every day. No longer was she content to simply read the night away, practicing harmless spells that served so little purpose. The moment she had found the dusty, hidden black book she knew it was calling to her. Begging for her to learn its contents. For months she’d studied it in detail, the yearning to know something of true value, beyond the mundanities of her self-taught tricks, driving her to a near- religious fervor. Finally, the evening had come that she would cast her first ritual from it. No one she knew of had been able to handle such a spell, and it was just what she needed to get into the Academy. To make the elvish sorcerers sit up and take notice of a desperate human. Her black hair was pulled back in twin pigtails, her bangs swept out of her expressive blue eyes. Her peachy skin felt flush with excitement as she settled in. She’d blocked the door of the library’s study room, and had everything prepared to see her through to the end of the casting. Yet as the first word of power passed her lips, she wondered if she could ever be prepared for the high she received. It was something she’d never truly experienced to the same intensity. “Fush-nea klixak hlinta,” she continued, and with each word her body trembled. This wasn’t the stuff of parlor tricks that she’d toyed with before: simple twists of light and sound to amuse and confound viewers. Each word tapped into some dark plane of existence and the raw magical energies there coursed through her veins and made her skin buzz with electricity. The closer she got to conclusion, the more reality seemed to warp before her. It was as if the walls changed shape, angles took on impossible dimensions that were not of her world. Gradually, it was as if a lightning storm were brewing at the heart of the room. Crackles of energy stabbing out from black wisps of nothingness that grew to consume the air there. It was terrifying to watch, and a sense of foreboding followed in its wake, but the high… the high of that power coursing through her with each new word was so sweet. Too sweet to give up. She wouldn’t. She was so close. She could feel how close she was, and her excitement made her stumble on that final word. “Punummra,” she shouted, praying to be heard over the crackle of power at the heart of the word. Her skin was flush and her light, white shirt clung to her slender body. The black skirt felt sticky around her thighs and calves, and she shifted to try to get the fabric off her. The tempest before her writhed and swelled with a fury that belied the earlier display. Black tendrils seemed to lunge out at reality itself in random directions! It wasn’t long, though, before they began to take on some form, and as if from through a gateway to hell itself, she witnessed the ruddy-black visage of a man that was not a man, both step through to her side and tear it open. He was wrathful. He was monstrous! He was beautiful, even in his fury. Sleek muscle, he was bare. Not a stitch of clothing, only the wisps of blackness that still clung to his form gracing his body as he clenched his fists and let loose a cry that beat at her ears. Hooves struck the floorboards, and his mighty, obsidian horns nearly scraped the ceiling. “Kral’kron krizzixt varuj!” he exclaimed in his demonic tongue, almond-shaped eyes that burned like cinders darting about the room before he realized there was nobody to turn his rage on… nobody but her. His bare chest heaved, his nostrils flared. Tall and mighty, he was broad at the shoulders and dwarfed her in every manner. She’d never felt so small and insignificant, physically. Yet at the same time, she felt larger than life, powerful beyond belief, and a smile spread across her lips. Fear still coiled in her stomach and she took a step backwards, away from the hellish thing she’d summoned. That she had summoned. By herself. Without any aid of elves and their haughty attitudes. He was hers, bound to her alone. Her body tingled with such perfect disbelief. The look upon the demon’s face said he believed otherwise. Though some strange amusement tickled his fancy. From out of his chest his words rumbled forth, dark and ominous, so full of masculine menace. “It was you who summoned me?” he asked, part disbelief in his voice, part amusement. Though she could see the strands of darkness flicker out and fade, they swept away from his body, leaving him more apparent to her. Her eyes able to see his reddish form, the dark hairs of his chest that formed a V- shape on down to a trail across his stony abs, that ended in a tuft above his loins. By the gods! Those monstrous loins of his were enough to snap her in half! It struck her dumb for a moment and her voice came out as little more than a squeaked “yes.” It was an odd sensation, of feeling utterly powerful and utterly insignificant, all at once. Yet she controlled him, so shouldn’t she feel unstoppable? The small, young woman forced her eyes away from his massive package and looked instead to his face. “You are here because of me.” The mighty demon before her snorted with derision and then unfurled his fists. She saw then the long, hooked nails that looked perilously sharp. “Because of you,” he repeated, touching one hand to his chest, letting the dagger-tips of his claws scrape over his own dark flesh, raking across abs as he eyed her with curiosity. “Why?” he demanded more than asked, brushing back some of his long, black hair with the other hand. The glossy pitch strands flowing about his neck and shoulders, framing his face. “Because I could!” she replied, trying to sound strong and brave but feeling anything but. She should have felt that same high she’d experienced casting the spell, but instead, fear was beginning to turn her blood cold. He was too large. Too unwieldy of a weapon. How could she hope to have the mental fortitude to hold him back? Greater mages than her had tried and failed. Her eyes narrowed at her negative thoughts and she forced herself to stand straight. No. She summoned him and she would control him. The towering beast before her smirked and a low rumble of a chuckle emitted from his chest as he rubbed his hand up and down across it and his hard belly. “Is that it then? You tore me from my realm, my home, simply because you could?” He stepped closer to her, his hoof hitting the ground noisily and as if time meant nothing to him, he was suddenly several steps closer to her, looming barely two inches from her body. She couldn’t help but inhale the scent of cinders, sweat, curiously alien aromas and masculinity with him up in her face like that. He pricked beneath her chin with one of his hooked nails, pointing her face up at him slowly. “Nobody summons one of my kind without a reason. Maybe you don’t know it yet,” he mused aloud. How was it possible that she felt like her pulse was racing and her heart stopped, all at once? His touch, his nail was so sharp and unpleasant, yet his scent was nearly intoxicating in a strange way. “I have to prove myself. You’re my proof.” Something flickered in those fiery eyes of his. Mischief? Perhaps, she couldn’t tell, for he looked full of wickedness no matter what he did. He bent down, which was quite a journey. He towered up to nearly seven feet! And was built wider and stronger than any man or elf she’d seen with her own two eyes. She saw him up close, the pointed patch of hair on his chin. The hard lines of his jaw. The handsome yet frightening features that made him so alluring and scary all at once.