The Mage’s Revenge (Crescent Moon Academy Book 2)

by CY Jones

  “He’s fine. You don’t need to worry about that asshole. He even threw a ‘I didn’t die from my sister’s batshit crazy ass plan’ party the other night. His title, not mine.”

  “Humph,” I huff. “What a dick,” I mutter. But just as easily as my annoyance comes, it quickly vanishes. I have no right to be mad at anyone right now. If anything, everyone should be coming after me with torches and pitchforks. I made such a mess out of things.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I fucked up. I guess I took what you said to heart and went about it the wrong way. I didn’t mean any harm. I just wanted you to stop looking down on me and thinking of me as dead weight in this war.”

  “Why do you even care what I think about you?” he questions, raising his brow. Curiosity dances in his eyes, but since he’s always so guarded, it comes off menacing instead of playful.

  “Because… because.” I want to shout, because I want to matter to you! That I want you to see me, but with him right beside me, I can’t form the words and I chicken out. “I don’t know,” I finally answer, leaving the question blank.

  I can tell he knows I’m lying, but before he can prod me further I beat him to it and ask, “Why am I wearing your shirt? What happened to my clothes?” Most importantly, what happened to my undergarments? I think to myself but don’t voice out loud.

  “Your stupidity left you badly injured inside and out. You’re lucky Oliver is a skilled healer and we were able to get you to him right away, or you would have lost your foot. The bones in your ankle were completely shattered, and it took all he had to regrow them. Not to mention the time it took to stitch your flesh back together in your right arm. The poison in your system was too advanced for him to heal in his exhausted state, so we brought you to the lagoon with the healing properties and dumped you in. After an hour of soaking in the healing waters, you were healed well enough, and afterwards, we had another healer come in to make sure you were healed completely since Oliver was in no shape to examine you himself. The healer was the one who undressed you and put my shirt on afterwards, and I’m the one who removed all the curses and poison darts from your body and hair.”

  Now, I really feel bad. Oliver was just getting over an injury, and because of me, he had to drain himself even more just to heal me.

  “Not that I’m ungrateful or anything, but if I’m healed, why do I still feel like shit?”

  “You exhausted your magic at one point. If I had to guess, I’d say your fight or flight instincts kicked in and forced your powers to act like a Band-Aid for your wounds and kept you going until you could get to a healer. You also had bones regrown and your skin stretched and stitched together. You’re a powerful mage, but you’re not invincible. It’ll take time and plenty of rest for you to be back to normal.”

  Silence fills the room as I think over his words. I may be a bit delusional right now because I swear I hear a hint of worry within his words, but that’s crazy. I’m pretty sure Zion hates me. On that thought...

  “I’m so confused. Why would you do anything for me? I thought you hated me.”

  I hate how small and vulnerable I sound, but I really want to know. This question definitely needs an answer so it can stop tormenting me. I never was the one to care if I was disliked. It comes with the territory of being the only spotted egg out of the bunch. I’ve always been the odd one out. The target to place all the blame on. The one to hate, but now? I have to know. Does he hate me, and if so, why did he take care of me? Allow me to heal and hide out in his room when he doesn’t let no one else in here? Have me in his bed? Why go through the trouble of removing dangerous curses and poison darts from my body? He’s such a conundrum. A puzzle whose pieces won’t be revealed until he says so, and even then, they’re not guaranteed to be the right ones that fit.

  “I don’t hate you,” he finally answers, and my heart stops, skipping I don’t know how many beats before leaping out of my chest from shock. This can’t be. I must have heard him wrong. But then he follows up and says, “I thought I told you as much in class.” And everything I thought I knew about this boy is erased, leaving the page blank because as it turns out, like John Snow, I know nothing.

  “You mean when you put me on the spot and confronted me to spill my feelings. I thought that was nothing more than a cruel joke,” I squeak, completely flabbergasted. Maybe I’m still dreaming, lost somewhere in my crazy head. Up is down, down is up, and everything in-between is free gain. Yep, this conversation is nothing but mad ramblings of an insane person’s overactive imagination.

  “And why would you think that, angel?” he asks with an amused smile on his face. One that doesn’t put me at ease because it’s shrouded by the predatory gleam in his gaze.

  “Why do you think?” I state the obvious. “What about Violet? Aren’t you with her? It won’t be long until you two are mated, and she’ll be pushing out your little fire babies with names the same color as their eyes.”

  “Violet and I are nothing to one another. I rather slit my own throat than sire any of her children,” he snarls, meaning every word. His tone is so matter-in-fact, I can’t repute his words. Is he actually telling the truth? What the hell?

  But even still, I cry out, “You’re lying. The twins said you never allow females in your room, and I saw her leaving your room with a smile of pure satisfaction the morning before I left for Crimson Blood.”

  This gets his attention, and he sits up straight, leveling me with his intense gaze. “Did you actually see her leave my room or was she at my door?” he asks carefully.

  “I wasn’t really paying it any attention. I guess I just saw her at your door, but her hand was on the knob like she was closing it behind her.”

  Immediately, he jumps off the bed. I don’t know why it took me this long to notice, but he’s not wearing anything but a pair of white cotton boxers and I’m transfixed with his ass as he turns his back to me. With long strides, he walks out the bedroom, toward his door I’m guessing since I don’t have X-ray vision and can’t see beyond the wall of his room. Just like the twins, he has his own massive suite, but he doesn’t have to share his.

  “That sneaky bitch,” I hear him mutter loudly, not at all happy before a strange sizzling sound and then a pop takes its place in my eardrums then he slams the door shut.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask once he comes back to the room.

  “That bitch spelled my doorknob with a looking glass. Because she’s weak, it takes time for the spell to take effect, but if you hadn't told me you saw her, she would have been able to spy on me in my room. I guess she got tired of me telling her she can’t come in here and took matters into her own hands. Fucking hell! She must really be getting desperate.” Taking my silence the wrong way, he adds, “You don’t have to worry about her finding out anything. The spell wasn’t active yet.”

  I really don’t care about me right now. All that’s going through my head is that I’m an idiot. I let that bitch goad me, directing my attention away from what she was really doing. It was all too easy because my own feelings are so wishy-washy right now, they can be easily deceived.

  “Oh,” is all I’m capable of commenting. Truthfully, it doesn’t even matter. Now that I’m well, he’ll be kicking me out soon. My stay has caused him so much strife. It’s because of me he dropped his guard, almost allowing Violet’s underhanded plan to succeed. If it weren’t for me, he would have been more vigilant. It doesn’t take a genius to guess he left his room in a hurry after hearing about what I was doing and was absent minded when he brought an injured me back to his room.

  “What’s with that face? I assure you I broke the spell before it activated.”

  “Are you going to kick me out now? I mean, I don’t blame you if you did. All I’ve been doing lately is causing trouble. I’m sure one of the other heirs won’t mind sheltering me until the heat dies down.”

  Instead of answering, he moves closer, completely taking over my personal space, and I lean back as far as I can go until I hit th
e headboard. Why does this beautiful boy enjoy toying with me so much? He’s like a cruel prince, sent here specifically to torment my splintered heart.

  With our noses nearly touching and those golden orbs of his fixated on me, he sets his trap when he replies, “I don’t care how you take it, but as of now, at this very moment, I have you just where I want you. Truthfully, I don’t know if you being here in my bed is a good or bad thing, but know this. Now that you’re here, I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

  I swallow so hard, I swear he can hear it… see it as the lump of air goes on its descent down my throat. “Never is an awfully long time,” I tell him in a voice so soft, I don’t recognize it as my own.

  “It is,” he replies simply, and I’m lost… so fucking lost that at any moment now, a little elf boy with bright red hair covered with a green hat and feather will take my hand and fly me far, far away to the second star on the right and straight on ‘til morning. Then the bastard wrecks me even further when he closes the little space between us and kisses me with so much passion, I’m afraid I’ll break and crumble like fairy dust on his bed. How can my body handle this? Handle him? I can’t… I can’t… I can’t.

  I’m so broken. Shattered into a thousand shards of little Angelica pieces. Zion has completely and thoroughly wrecked me. There’s no going back. I never had a map to begin with. He’s finally caught me. Trapped me in his spell, and I’m too dumbstruck to know that this… him and I... is probably a bad idea. Fuck, there is no probably about it. It is a bad idea. He has the power to consume me. Remake me. He has the power to spell me and turn me into some foolish girl who forgets how to live for herself and only lives for him. But with his soft lips on mine, his tongue beating mine into submission, none of that matters. I can’t find it in me to fight back because I want this. I want him.

  In my weakened state, I’m still able to grab him, touching the hard planes of his body, committing them to memory. His large hand wraps around the back of my neck in a firm, yet sure grip as he attacks my mouth in such a primal move that could be nothing but him. I’m no docile female or the princess he calls me when he’s mad. I give as good as I get until we’re both a couple of crazed, feral animals pawing at each other. My hand flies to his cock like a magnet is pulling me there, and I raise my eyebrow impressed at the size of the bulge I can feel through the thin cotton. Don’t tell me this cocky asshole’s package is bigger than the other heirs.

  His other hand cups my breast and I lean into his touch, pushing his hand firmly against me. The only barriers between us are his boxers and the shirt I’m wearing, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I would tear them both away in shreds just so that I take hold of my prize.

  With my heart hammering in my chest, I’m disappointed when he pulls back and presses his forehead against mine, breathing hard like he can’t quite catch his breath. Like me, he’s barely in control of himself. As much as he likes to play games, he can’t fake this reaction. He wants me as much as I want him and is showing a lot of restraint to pull back. But why? Just like he said, he has me where he wants me. Why hold back?

  “As much as I want to strip my shirt from your body and fuck you until you cry mercy, I won’t do so while you’re injured.” At the look on my face, he hurries to continue, cutting off my protest. “I’m not gentle, angel. When I finally take you, it will be raw and dirty and without restraint. I will plow through your cunt until the only coherent word you’ll be able to say is my name and even that one word would be screamed at the top of your lungs with that wicked sharp tongue of yours.”

  Holy shit. I may have just came. I moan in arousal, or disappointment. I don’t know which because my brain is nothing but a turning record scratched on his words.

  Taking note of my silence, he chuckles a dark sound, clearly amused at my dumbstruck look on my face. “Don’t look like that, angel. Trust me. My dick is worth the wait, but until then,” he says, moving his hand downward until it disappears under the shirt I’m wearing.

  I want to tell him off. His cockiness should have its own category. He’s the very definition of the meaning ‘full of it’, but instead, I jump when his fingers walk a trail softly across my skin to my clit, opening me up like a newly budding flower, and then hiss when they locate my nub like some search and rescue team and start to touch me in a light circular motion. His mouth cups the side of my neck and he licks me there before sucking at the skin. He’ll be sure to leave a mark, but with the way his talented fingers are playing with my pussy, I can’t find it in me to care.

  “So fucking wet. You’re making this very hard on me,” he purrs in my ear before sucking in another spot, this one lower.

  His fingers move in a steady rhythm, and I moan louder, biting back saying the bastard’s name. I don’t want to feed his ego, but I don’t want him to stop either. When his mouth moves to suckle on my breast through his borrowed shirt, I curse and start to move my body against his hand.

  “Fuck I can’t wait to be inside you... marking you… beating you with my dick to my own personal tune. You’re mine. Now and forever. No one will ever be able to take you away from me.”

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I want to correct him. There are four others who have claimed ownership of me, and if he wants to be with me, sharing is non-negotiable, but right now, my body is a free-for-all, and I’m not strong enough to correct him. He can do and say whatever the the fuck he wants.

  A knock sounds sharply on his door, but he ignores and continues with the assault on my body. If anything, the knock provokes him and his fingers dance against my hardened nub even faster, driving me even crazier. I have to give him his props. I don’t think my own fingers are this in sync with my body, and I have years of experience since I have been touching myself since I was fourteen. He’s an expert in the deed, knowing just how much pressure to apply and where. I’m putty in his hands, literally and figuratively.

  Whoever is at the door must have a death wish because instead of doing the sensible thing and going away, they knock even louder and more persistent. With a growl, Zion lifts his mouth off my skin and shouts, “What,” so menacingly that it would have snapped me out of my haze and sent me trembling into the nearest corner if it weren’t for his talented fingers still inside me.

  “Sir, one of your messengers is here with a red feather,” an unfamiliar voice answers. Zion’s fingers stop for a split second before continuing its assault right where he left off. A red feather? Is that some kind of code?

  “I’ll be there in a minute. Have him wait for me on the roof,” Zion replies before turning his full attention back to me.

  With a wicked smile, he lifts his shirt over my head and I’m left bare to his probing gaze, which he happily takes my nipple in his mouth without the nuisance of fabric in the way. My orgasm is right on the cusp, and he knows it, and he takes advantage by biting me so hard that this time, I do cry out his name as stars dance across my lids, and I lose my fight and erupt on his hand. Smiling against my skin, he sucks the hurt away before moving his mouth to my other breast, giving it the same attention with his fingers still inside me, slipping and sliding against my walls.

  “Fuck, I can’t wait to hear more of my name coming out your mouth.” I have no clue if that statement is a taunt or not, nor do I care. I’m still in orgasmic bliss, playing connect the dots with the sparkling stars.

  When he removes his hand from inside me, I shiver but not from the cold. I’m so aroused right now, my body is super sensitive. I watch him as he climbs off the bed and practically scowl when he puts his jeans on before disappearing into the bathroom. When he comes out, he’s fully dressed and my disappointment grows even further. Reading the look on my face, he stalks over and grabs my chin in a tight grip, leveling me with his piercing gaze. He’s so fucking dominant, and I find that so damn hot. The ultimate turn on. I don’t need him to tell me that when we finally do fuck, it will be explosive.

  “I already told you, angel, I won’t fuck you until you’
re well. Your body still needs to heal. As soon as you’re fully recovered, I will be more than happy to destroy your pussy and own you.” With that, he practically smashes his lips against mine, kissing me with as much intensity as his words. When he pulls back he whispers, “Sleep,” and as if his words were a spell, I close my eyes and fall onto his pillows, drowning in his scent. It doesn’t take long before darkness takes me under, kidnapping me until I barely hear the door close behind him.

  Chapter 11

  Zion

  I’m irritated as fuck that I had to leave my angel behind just when things were getting good, but maybe it’s a good thing I was interrupted, even if my dick is furious with me right now. Even I have only so much restraint. It was hard to leave her, especially after she came so exquisitely onto my hand, but despite the intensive healing she went under, she’s still weak. I meant what I said when I told her I want her to be in top form when I finally have her. I plan on taking my time as I ravish her body, and I don’t plan on being gentle about it either. I’ve warned her, but I’m not entirely sure if she believes me. I guess she’ll find out once she’s well. After being with me, she’ll probably be bedridden again. I get even harder with my filthy thoughts and have to adjust my pants. It wouldn’t be appropriate to meet one of my Gouchie with a hard-on.

  “This better be good,” I grumble at Pharaoh as soon as I step onto the roof and he appears in front of me in a fury of red and gold feathers. Pharaoh is one of the Gouchie. A small race of people who can turn into birds. I saved him from poachers a few years back. Like the human term, they’re despicable assholes who hunt down rare magical beings and sell them for profit. Not only are Gouchie’s rare, they’re mostly hunted down because their feathers can enhance magic spells and their blood can boost one’s powers. Unfortunately, Pharaoh is the last of his family line. The others were killed when his village was raided. With nothing to go back to, he pledged his life to me, and I have been using him to spy on my father. Currently, I have three Gouchie in my employment. All three are of different lineages, serving me for different reasons.