Red Rose Academy Year Two

Red Rose Academy Year Two M GUIDA BUFFALO MOUNTAIN PRESS Copyright © 2023 by M Guida All rights reserved. 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. Created with Vellum Acknowledgments I would like to thank Parker Finch, a wonderful contemporary author, who helped me brainstorm the last two chapters. I was struggling with writing them, and she came up with the best ending. I hope you like it as much as I do. If you want to check out Parker Finch’s books, she writes sports romance. Check out her author page! 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 Dear Reader About the Author Also by M Guida Chapter One I stared at my trembling hands, at the evidence of my misdeeds drying and caking upon my skin. What had I done? My enemy had taken me to the abandoned church and imprisoned me behind a brick wall with no hope of escape. Their plan was to leave me here and wait for me to go dark side. Then Rocco and Valentin made the mistake of ripping away the bricks to save me. My hunger had been too strong, consuming me until I lost control and turned into a bloodthirsty fiend, attacking them. I would never be able to forgive myself. A rusted, black-iron cross gleamed above me in a patch of sunlight. Tears stung my eyes as I gazed at it, wondering if my friends or Headmaster Tarus would even be able to look at me again. I wiped away my tears and looked at the blood on my hands. The blood that wasn’t mine. Rocco and Valentin lay slumped over each other, their handsome faces chalk white and drained of life, their long black hair matted with sweat, their arms and legs twisted at unnatural angles. They looked like two broken marionettes. The coppery taste of their blood lingered on my tongue and my bare arm was smeared with red from wiping my lips. Tears welled up as my heart sank like an anchor and guilt washed over me. Life would never be the same again. Grief and sorrow twined together like two black vines, twisting and clutching my heart, making it impossible to breathe. The sunlight streamed down from the broken stained-glass windows in the decrepit old church, onto my face as if to highlight my shame. My breath rasped in my ears, and I inhaled the scent of damp rotting wood mixed with dust. I loathed and hated St. Christopher’s Church, transformed by Hurricane Katrina from a bustling, beautiful church into a moldy, decaying mausoleum. It was as sad and pathetic as I was. It was a perfect place for me to die for my crime, I thought bitterly. My six closest friends clung to one another in a tight circle behind me. My cat, Bellona, stood with them and stared at me with her huge, golden eyes. They hadn’t abandoned me, but I could smell their fear—a sour smell that burned the back of my throat. Not only fear of what I had just done, but fear of the dark figure standing in the doorway who sucked up all the light and blocked off the only path to freedom. Dimitri Dragan, Valentin’s brother, towered over me like a dark and mysterious avenging angel. No, no angel. More like an avenging demon from hell, ready to kill me. He was a tempting demon though, with striking facial features and black hair worn short on the sides and long on top. In his long duster jacket with its tails flapping around the back of his tree trunk-size legs, he looked like a man from legend, a lethal vampire. His fangs were gleaming white, his eyes crimson as a rose. His intense gaze burned into every woman—and man—in the small dusty church. His eyes were ablaze with rage, and his voice was filled with menace when he spoke. “My master said you would be mad with hunger. Even willing to make a vampire. He said you’d drain the first person you fed on dry. But you’d better hope my brother’s not dead, or none of you will leave here alive.” My stomach lurched in horror. He was right. His master had won. I was a monster. I threw my head back and screamed out my anguish. A tingling feeling tore through my arms and legs, swirling across my body like a violent tornado. A rush of energy pulled me tight and then exploded inside me. I lost control of my telekinetic power, turning it on myself as if it was a deadly weapon. The dusty red bricks lifted into the air like tiny boats tossed on a stormy sea, then smacked against the last stained-glass window of Jesus dying on the cross, shattering it. Glass shards fell on us like sharp, pelting rain. My friends and I covered our heads with our arms, but not Dimitri. He merely raised his eyebrow and flicked a piece of stained glass off his shoulder. “You’re always so dramatic.” In that moment, he reminded me of my heartless father. Dimitri had never been like that before—before he’d broken Vlad the Impaler’s sacred rule and killed humans. Bellona hissed, arching her back, and I heard her thoughts in my mind: I’ll attack him. My thoughts answered her back: No, stay back. He’ll kill you. Please, I can’t lose you. Dimitri brushed past me and headed toward Rocco and Valentin’s lifeless bodies. “Stay away from the prince.” Emrys blocked Dimitri’s path, his limbs