S.T. Gibson

Love is sacrifice. One of us was always going to bleed for the other.

Deep in the forgotten hills of Massachusetts stands Saint Perpetua's College. Isolated and ancient, it is not a place for timid girls. Here, secrets are currency, ambition is lifeblood, and strange ceremonies welcome students into the fold.

On her first day of class, Laura Sheridan is thrust into an intense academic rivalry with the beautiful and enigmatic Carmilla. Together, they are drawn into the confidence of their demanding poetry professor, De Lafontaine, who holds her own dark obsession with Carmilla.

But as their rivalry blossoms into something far more delicious, Laura must confront her own strange hungers. Tangled in a sinister game of politics, bloodthirsty professors and dark magic, Laura and Carmilla must decide how much they are willing to sacrifice in their ruthless pursuit of knowledge.

Sumptuous and addictive, An Education in Malice is a dark academia tale of blood, secrets and insatiable hungers from Sunday Times bestselling author S.T. Gibson, author of the cult hit A Dowry of Blood.

An Education in Malice

The use of Carmilla’s original author’s name makes me so happy !!!

Romy

Say, you aren’t Laura Sheridan, are you  ?

I thought, for a shining moment, that she was seeing me as I was seeing her : As absolutely perfect.

For one white-hot instant, that dark instinct to overcome and and overpower, to kiss and bruise, flared to life in my stomach. 

And of course, I had my vices, which I had no intentions of giving up. 

Nothing to say here. Just wanted to note it down.

I rewarded myself by flipping through a pamphlet of Victorian pornography.

I didn’t need any other teacher, not when the light of her brilliance shone bright enough to illuminate my whole life.

Can I confess that I loved it ? I love getting under her skin.

If I couldn’t touch her, I would settle for making her squirm.

I was never going to possess her, of course. I would never get to taste her skin or hear the sweetness of a moan from her lips. But if I couldn't have the real Carmilla, I would settle for an illusion of my own design. 

I was, I knew full well, a creature composed of strange desires. They'd always been with me, these hungers. As a child I played villain in every game of "capture the princess", tying my pretty playmates up with jump ropes.

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