One Kind of Wicked: A Reverse Harem Academy Series (The True and the Crown Book 1)

by May Dawson

  Mycroft and Airren groan in tandem.

  Airren gently pushes me down onto the bed. No matter how casual his touch, his hand on my shoulder still sends a strange thrum of lust through me. “Sleep it off, Tera.”

  I rest my head on the pillow. The guys get up, moving around the room and getting ready for bed themselves. I think I won’t be able to fall asleep with them rattling around, their low voices as they talk amongst themselves, but strangely enough, I fall asleep right away.

  I wake from a deep, dreamless, drunken sleep to find myself drawn tight against Airren’s body again. His arm is draped over my waist, and his jaw rests gently on the top of my head. The soft, rhythmic rise and fall of his breath flutters against my spine. For once, instead of startling awake in heart-hammering panic, my breath is soft and slow as his. I haven’t slept like that in a long time.

  The room is lit from the crack in the bathroom door. Mycroft’s deep voice and Cax’s quick, mischievous tone alternate, but I can’t quite make out their words.

  A better girl wouldn’t eavesdrop, but come on; I was born to be evil. Eavesdropping is pretty damn forgivable.

  And my life depends on them. I don’t feel badly for making sure they don’t hold back secrets I need to know.

  I carefully slide out from under Airren’s arm then sit up in bed, listening intently, but I still can only make out Cax’s voice.

  “Well, I don’t think the murderer is really one of Donovan’s either,” Cax says. “But sooner or later, they are going to come for her.”

  Mycroft’s low rumble in response is lost to me. My knee twinges at first when I slide it across the bed, but I scoot carefully to the edge I grip the side of the bed hard, testing out my leg tentatively at first.

  “You’re a cynic,” Cax accuses. “What worries me is what they could do to her."

  My knee holds, and I limp to the doorframe.

  “We’ll take care of her,” Mycroft promises.

  Those words curl like wisps of warmth into my bones.

  I glimpse between the hinges of the door, getting a sliver of a look into the room. Mycroft leans back against the sink, his arms crossed. He’s shirtless, and for the first time, I see the elaborate rune tattoos curling across his shoulders and pecs.

  “Good.” Cax leans forward, resting his hands on Mycroft’s shoulders.

  Mycroft shakes his head, a faint smile touching his lips, but he wraps a hand around Cax’s narrow hip anyway.

  “Afraid you’ll offend Airren’s sensibilities even from here?” Cax teases. He presses his nose against Mycroft’s, and tall as he is, he has to rise on his tip-toes. “Or Tera’s?”

  Mycroft leans his forehead against Cax’s. “I don’t think we have to worry about offending Tera.”

  Their lips press together in a tender kiss, no matter what Mycroft says about it being just sex. Their two hard-angled, muscular bodies lock together and send lust washing through mine.

  Their lips part, just slightly, and Cax says, “I wasn’t so sure how she felt. I think she likes all of us.”

  “I’m sure she does,” Mycroft says. There’s an affectionate gaze in his eyes when he looks at Cax, and that gaze doesn’t change when his eyes flicker up, locking on mine through the crack in the door. “And if it offended her sensibilities, I doubt she’d be skulking by the door.”

  Cax turns, his eyes widening in surprise.

  “Come on in, Tera,” Mycroft says.

  I push the door open, a rueful smile coming to my lips. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t bother being sorry now. You chose to watch.” Despite his words, Mycroft holds his hand out to me.

  I stare at him for a second, lost, because there’s nothing I want more at this moment than to be pulled between him and Cax. The two of them still stand intimately close, although their eyes are on me.

  But I don’t know if they really want me.

  “I don’t know if I can stand one more bit of pitying kindness.” When I take a step back, I bump into the door jamb. That’s perfect, really, because for a second, I only felt socially clumsy instead of clumsy in every conceivable way.

  Cax grins, a quick flash of exasperation. “If you think that’s what this is, you sure have a lot to learn about how men work.”

  “I have pretty much everything to learn.” As soon as I’ve said it, I bite down on my lower lip.

  Cax holds out his hand to me too. “Well?”

  I’m torn for a second between the wise thing—turning my back on these two handsome men, still entwined, and limping back to bed—and the thing I desperately want. Is there really time to be wise when I may find myself thrust back out of this world as quickly as I found myself allowed home?

  Quicker than thought, I cross the few steps across the small bathroom and slap my hands into theirs.

  Cax’s grin changes to one of genuine pleasure, and maybe a hint of smugness. The two of them draw me in, pulling me against their bodies. The soft groan that rises in my throat surprises even me. Mycroft leans down, covering my mouth with his, breathing in that small noise as if my sound is delicious.

  Cax squeezes my hand in his, then lets go. I take Mycroft’s big jaw in my hands and hold him still as his lips caress mine. Cax slides his hand across my waist, his thumb sweeping just underneath my waistband. As Mycroft pulls away, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips, Cax’s fingers brush up my spine and my shoulders arch.

  Mycroft’s hard forearm is a bar behind my back. He pulls me between them. I’m sandwiched between Mycroft’s hard abs and Cax against my back. Cax rests his hands on my hips, steadying me as Mycroft tilts my chin. His deep brown eyes are soft as I close the distance between our mouths.

  We meet in quick, sweet kisses, before he presses another one of those bruising, sure kisses into my expectant lips. My body melts into his. I run my tongue over the inside of his thick upper lip, begging him to open up to me.

  Cax’s hands on my hips slide down, his fingertips slowly tracing my inner thighs. I lean into him, letting my weight rest against his hard abs and the distinct press of his cock against the curve of my ass. Mycroft’s lips part against mine. His thumb slides across my jaw, the gesture tender, before he pushes me playfully into Cax. There’s a quick flicker of amusement in Cax’s eyes as I let him take my weight, my head pillowed on his shoulder.

  Mycroft’s mouth presses over and over against my throat, my chin, my cheeks, the corner of my lips. I turn my head, seeking to return the favor, but he eludes me.

  Cax’s hand sweeps up until his thumb brushes between my thighs. Even through my panties, sends sparks of heat through my suddenly-throbbing core. I jerk back against his shoulder. His grin is a lightning flash before he buries his head in my shoulder, pulling aside the oversized neck of my t-shirt to kiss my skin. His fingers tease over my mound, back and forth, as my core heats in response. His hand settles firmly and confidently against me, his thumb stroking over my inner center. Mycroft’s hand strokes under my shirt now, his fingertips tracing up my sides, and I lean forward, wanting his hand against my breast.

  “What the hell are you all doing?” Airren asks from the doorway.

  “If you don’t like it, you can close the door on your way out,” Cax says.

  Mycroft straightens though, pulling out of my touch. When his warm, hard body leaves me, I almost groan in disappointment.

  “Airren’s right,” Mycroft says, heading off an argument. “We should all be getting some rest.”

  Airren shakes his head, as if in disbelief. He’s clearly not pacified.

  Cax puts an arm across my waist, holding me against him, and kisses my cheek affectionately. “Sorry they’re such killjoys,” he murmurs into my ear.

  Airren crooks a finger at me. “Come here. I swear I’m going to handcuff you to me tomorrow night.”

  “That doesn’t sound all bad,” I say brightly. I turn my head to kiss Cax’s cheek in return; he has the faintest scruff across his jaw, and it tickles my lips. He takes my hips in his hands un
til he’s sure my knees will hold, and then pats my hip as he releases me.

  The smallest uptick in Mycroft’s lips pleases me.

  As the four of us pile back into bed, Airren grouses, “Honestly.”

  “Don’t be mad,” I say softly. I wiggle my ass into his hips, and he closes his arm around my waist, welcoming me in. “I would’ve liked for you to be there too.”

  He grunts into my ear.

  I smile in the darkness.

  “You’re trouble,” Cax says, his voice affectionate.

  “You’ve liked that about me from the beginning,” I remind him.

  “The spell should’ve worn off by now.” Airren complains

  Mycroft runs his fingers across my temple, the same way he did when he put the spell on me in the first place. “Oh, I think it did.”

  “There’s much more dangerous magic at play now,” I say, which is a totally Cax kind of thing; it could mean something or nothing.

  Or everything.

  And then I fall into blessed, sweet, deep sleep.

  Chapter 25

  When the cops come the next morning, Airren argues with them at the door. His voice drops lower, deep and dangerous, as the conversation goes on until he’s speaking just above a whisper. The two officers at the door became louder and more impatient in response.

  Mycroft heads into the bathroom and returns with my jeans. He holds them out to me. “Be polite, I know it’s hard for you. Don’t resist. And trust us—we’ll be coming to get you out.”

  “Not my strong suit.” I wince as I lean forward over my knee

  Mycroft kneels on the foot of the bed and works the jeans over my ankles. His hands brush over my legs, and he looks up at me, his eyes keen. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “They need to bring someone in so it doesn’t look like a dead-end investigation.” Cax shoots a dark look at the cop shoving past Airren.

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.” Grieving Day flashes through my mind, and I ask, “What did they do to my father, anyway?”

  “Not today,” Mycroft says shortly.

  “It’s a good thing I respect your service,” the second cop is telling Airren.

  “Stand up.” The cop who just pushed past Airren barks at me. He pulls the cuffs off his belt. “Turn around.”

  “She’s hurt,” Cax tells him. “You don’t need the cuffs; she can’t run anyway. Look at her.”

  The officer fixes him with a dire look and I turn. When I hold my arms out behind my back, my wrists in, a tremor runs down my arms that I try to ignore.

  Cax rakes his hand through his hair. As cool as he usually is, it’s obvious his heart is racing as wildly as mine Nothing terrifies me like being restrained, and I’m afraid I’m about to come undone. I wobble on my swollen knee and try to smile at Cax, hoping to calm him down.

  The cop ignores Cax entirely. “Tera Donovan, you’re under arrest for the murder of Luca Gibbs. Your rights as a citizen of Avalon were terminated upon your conviction five years ago. Therefore, the standard of Strangers’ Rights will be applied to your case. You have the right to a fair trial and to safety from physical duress.”

  Physical duress is not that meaningful of a disclaimer in a country where magic can crack open your mind and lay your secrets bare. I don’t know any of the rules here; I wouldn’t know how to lobby for my rights.

  The rest of his words are lost in my haze of panic. He yanks my hands behind my back, snapping on the cuffs. The rise of panic tightening my chest makes me want to fight, to run, anything to dispel the pain and terror. As I fight my reflexes, my teeth grind down so hard that pain flares in my molars, but my body stays stiff and still.

  “What the hell is the point of this?” Airren demands. “She didn’t kill anyone. What would her motive be?”

  “What was her motive when she was convicted for murder five years ago?” the first cop shoots back.

  “Go.” The second cop steers me forward with a meaty hand on my shoulder.

  I don’t know anything about this conviction. I didn’t get to testify at my own trial; I didn’t even know it was happening.

  But I guess I should be glad I didn’t join my father’s corpse at Grieving Day.

  Well, let’s give the people a show. This time when the cops march me through the building, I’m in cuffs. I tell myself to raise my head and smile like I don’t give a damn, like I did last time, but I can’t quite pick my head up.

  When we reach the stairs, the police push me to walk faster than I can safely navigate with my stiff knee.

  I tense, feeling the inevitability of my fall before it happens, and then halfway down the last set of stairs, my feet slide out from underneath me. I land heavily on my hip, sliding down the slick steps.

  When I come to a stop, my knee throbs, and my elbow is skinned bloody. Pain radiates through my body, and I start to curl into a ball to escape the intensity. But they grab me beneath my arms and pull me up.

  I can feel their urgency, the way they see me as a threat, as they scoop me off the stairs and shove me ahead of them. This hall I love already, with its wide dark floors and tables of students studying or chatting, is a blur as they head me toward the side hall.

  What if I get to spend the rest of my life in Avalon after all?

  What if it’s because I’m in prison here?

  I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, trying to block out the students crowding into the lobby to watch me go.

  “Tera!” Stelly’s voice is so loud that my eyes snap open. She runs down the stairs behind us. “Let her go!”

  Cax catches Stelly around the waist as she reaches him. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted in horror. From here, I can see his lips move quickly, telling her that the only way to help me now is to stay calm.

  We’ve all just got to stay calm. My heart beats so fast in my chest that I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t get out of these cuffs, out of this world. I need details to ground me before I lose it, but when I close my eyes, the physical details press in on me: the metal feels cold and biting against my wrists, and the warm air is stifling when my body is flushed hot with terror.

  Think of something else. My heart beat wildly like this for entirely different reasons when those boys kissed me. Remember that: Airren holding me against his hard body, and Mycroft’s lips were sweetly bruising, and Cax cradling me in his arms.

  The first cop takes a few quick strides ahead of us down the hall, tapping his wand against the side of the door. The last time we did this, I was comforted to see the bustling precinct on the other side of the door. I’d been afraid that the police would make sure I’d never turn darkside.

  This time, the door swings open to an empty parking lot, with white gravel on the ground and no one else in sight.

  Frantic, I look back over my shoulder, searching for the guys, who stand at the end of the hall. Mycroft’s face is an impassive mask; Cax paces; Airren has his arms crossed over his chest, watching with cold blue eyes. When they see the way I look at them, their faces change. Airren heads toward us, fast, his hands forming into fists, and the other two immediately fall in behind him.

  “Let’s go.” The first cop shoves me forward.

  I fall through the other side, barely managing to catch myself. The second officer jumps through, and the door slams shut between us and Rawl House.

  My swollen knee is hard to move. I drag my leg behind me as I limp across the gravel yard. Damn, Mycroft’s spell really has worn off now, and it aches.

  “Hurry up!” One officer reaches out to grab my shoulder, and from the corner of my eye, I see the tattoos on his inner wrist. A row of names. A band of names that almost span the width of his wrist, as if his whole family was murdered.

  I look up at his face, reminded of his humanity even though he’s gotten my heart pounding frantically in my chest, but all I see is cruelty.

  He pushes me. I fall hard on my good knee, my head slamming into the gravel. Pain explodes all along my body. Frantic
ally, I try to scramble into a defensive posture, tucking my head down and drawing my knees in—no matter how they ache—to protect my organs.

  Another cop slams into the one who stands in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” he barks, pushing him against the brick wall alongside the door we stepped through. “We’ve got rules, we’ve got law. That’s what makes us different from them.”

  “Get your hands off me.” The first cop pushes him away, and the new cop takes a step back, raising his hands.

  “Sure.” His voice is soft, persuasive. “I understand, you know. But if you can’t stop yourself, you’ve got to stay away from her. The Chief would take your badge—”

  “Then make sure I don’t have to look at her.” He storms toward the building, then stops and turns. Roughly, he says, “Thanks, Leo.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” Leo says. “We’re on the same side, brother.”

  When the other cop has slammed into the back door of the building, Leo kneels next to me. Gruffly, he asks, “You okay?”

  “Yes.” My voice comes out in an uneven whisper. I cough, then try again. “Yes.”

  “Let’s get you up. No one’s going to hurt you.” Leo stands and moves behind me, his hands settling under my arms.

  That’s a pretty brash promise to make. Leo lifts me to my feet. My knee throbs, but holds beneath me.

  Leo grabs my forearm, above the cuffs, to steer me into the police station.

  “Thanks for the help.” My voice comes out flat, but I’m grateful to be rescued from the man who seemed like he wanted to kill me.

  “It seems like a bad time for you to be here, Donovan,” he says. “The media hasn’t painted you in a very forgiving light, especially lately. They think you were involved in all kinds of your father’s business—”

  “I was a child,” I say.

  “You don’t have to convince me,” he says, his voice kind. Then he leans over my shoulder and whispers into my ear, “The True will rise again.”

  The True. That’s what my father’s people called themselves. The true magicians. The true who were loyal to him. The true who spoke an unpleasant reality that most of Avalon didn’t want to hear.