Rebel Academy: Crave: A Paranormal Academy Romance Series (Wickedly Charmed Book 1)

by Rosemary A Johns

  A warm sensation far back in my mind tugged at me like she was my home.

  So, there was some spook with soft breath haunting this castle prison…? So far, she was the best welcoming committee that I’d had.

  The Dancing Goddesses and their Performing Snake didn’t count.

  “Who are you then?” I murmured, straining to make out even an outline.

  I hurled down my suitcase, wafting my hands through the air in front of me. My fingers tingled with the desperation to touch, but I couldn’t feel anything.

  My eyes pricked with tears again, until that same cool breath whispered across my ear. I jumped and then laughed. My joy echoed through the bailey, and all three of Hecates’ statues tutted.

  Witching heavens, maybe I wouldn’t be alone here, even if I was a mage.

  I bounced on the balls of my feet in excitement. “I’m Fox of the House of Jewels. You’ve probably heard of me: lover, legend, and liar.” The puff of air against my neck was definitely a laugh. My lips curled into a smile. “Laughing at me already? So, you have heard of me?”

  When the smell of yew trees faded along with the icy breath, I booted the cobbles, rubbing at my neck.

  Why did she have to fade away?

  The Rebel Ghost had made me feel safer than I had in a long time, and if she was another student here, then I wanted her back.

  I prowled to the altar, which was black with crows’ feathers and charred birds’ skulls. My suit was too tight and pulled across my chest, as well as rubbing at my dick and balls. Mum still saw me as the boy who she’d locked away for having magic. She didn’t realize that I’d turned into a man.

  Oh, and a fox, cat, and hedgehog with serious attitude.

  My two powers were to shift into animals and to tell the truth behind people’s lies. Both were about masks. Although, I’m what dad had always called a pathological liar with his secret smile like he understood that it was the only way I could protect myself.

  I wished that I’d known to lie when my magic had come in because lies are the only thing more powerful than magic.

  My older sister, Hartley, had been begging mum for a kitten, but we didn’t have pets in our coven because everything had to be neat, beautiful, and perfect. As the pretty non-magical son, I’d been mum’s prize jewel. She’d already had marriage offers for me when I came of age that would further the power of our House.

  Animals risked messing up our House’s image. Only, it turned out that my magic was natural like the way that I’d shifted into a white Birman kitten with sparkling blue eyes and a crooked tail (because that was how I rolled) to please my sister.

  I’d always wanted to make my family happy as a kid. Ironic, right?

  My magic had surged through me with a wild warmth and thrilling freedom. My mind had been liberated from lies and the falseness of polite words, leaving behind simply instinct.

  The instinct in my kitten form for naps, mice, and feathery things to chase.

  I’d snuggled on my back, purring and waiting for the strokes to begin. Instead, there’d been screaming, followed by nails digging into the scruff of my neck and hurling me into my room. After that…

  Breathe, come on, breathe.

  I forced my ragged breathing to steady, counting to a hundred backward in my head. I hated that these memories could still trigger panic but I hated even more that my first shift had stolen everything from me.

  After that, I’d never been allowed to talk to anyone but my dad, cousin Aquilo, and the family werewolf again for thirteen years.

  It turned out that shimages — or shitmages as I’d thought mum had meant until Aquilo had explained it, whilst giggling — who can transform into animals are both rare and the most hated within the witch world.

  Wait, maybe I was right with the shitmage.

  If dad hadn’t died, I’d still be trapped in the attic. It made me numb with guilt that his death had freed me, even if I’d been sent to the one place that I’d been raised to fear. But to a guy who’d spent his teenage years in an attic, a magical education even by witches on cursed grounds was appealing. I was desperate to be allowed to attend classes, meet the other students, and explore all this space.

  Rebel Ghost had awoken my magic and breathed a life into me that’d been buried since the day I’d revealed my kitteny side. What was a guy to do when he spent his nights dreaming of being stroked and petted, but his days curled shut up alone?

  Okay, he wanked…a lot.

  “Hey,” I called into the darkness, “I know that I’m early and wasn’t meant to be here until the morning but…” …My mum didn’t want to hang around because she’s ashamed that her son’s a mage… “…I was so excited to shiver my ass off in your charming reception area that I flew by broomstick.” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you work sarcasm. “I tell a lie: it was a magic carpet. No wait, this swirling portal opened and…”

  There was only silence.

  The full moon hung heavy and fat in the sky. I fiddled with my blue diamond cuff links, which matched my amulet.

  “Do I need to summon the witches? Is this the Principal’s desk? Would it work with a spook?” I toyed with the bell on the altar, lining it up out of habit with the oak wreath and gagging on the garlic stench. “Hecate, how about helping me out?” The tiny statue of Hecate at the back narrowed her eyes, before flicking me off. I smothered my grin behind my hand. “Oh, you little rebel.”

  She smirked, blowing a raspberry.

  “The gloves are off, bitch.” I snatched the bell, ringing it above my head with a sudden buzz that I hadn’t experienced in years. At the same time, I sang “Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead” loudly enough to make even me wince.

  Tiny Hecate howled, dropping to her knees and pressing her hands over her ears.

  Everyone’s a critic.

  Then her eyes flashed with a surge of malicious magic that made me break off my enthusiastic song and shrink back, as she wagged her finger at me and pointed behind the altar.

  I dropped the bell and crouched down, peering into the shadows at the cage that’d been built there.

  Why on a kitten’s crooked tail did an academy (even a reformatory), need a cage? Unless that was one of the more creative punishments for low grades.

  I shrugged; I’d been used to an attic. A cage wasn’t so much worse.

  Then glowing amber eyes glared out at me, and a rumbling growl blew my hair back from my forehead.

  This is your best suit…don’t wet your pants, don’t wet…

  When a werewolf, whose white fur glittered under the moonlight, clacked on golden claws to the front of the cage, I clapped my hands. “Hey, gorgeous, why’d they lock you up here?”

  The werewolves’ growl cut off in shock, and he blinked at me through eyes that had thicker eyelashes than I’d seen on a wolf. Glow would’ve been sassing up a storm about them. He was my best friend…okay, only friend…okay, werewolf slave…in the House of Jewels. I’d received more whippings for encouraging that beast’s sass than for my own backtalk.

  If Hecate thought that a werewolf would scare me, then it just showed how little witches bothered to understand mages.

  I smiled at the wolf. What did the shifter look like when it wasn’t the full moon? I’d bet that he was beautiful. I had the theory that was why witches had forced the Alphas to sacrifice so many of their Omegas into the witches’ not so loving care, after they’d defeated them in the Wolf Wars.

  The wolf’s fur bristled. He bared his fangs and snarled.

  Lie: I’m a big bad wolf; fear me.

  Truth: I’m an Omega slave to the witches who use me as a guard dog for Hecate’s altar. I’m lonely. Do you want to play?

  My gaze softened. “Have you ever tried the game Two Truths and One Lie?”

  When I wriggled my arm through the bars of the cage, my heart thudded against my ribs. If the wolf tore off my fingers, then I took everything back: I was a shitmage.

  Instead, the wolf nuzzled against my hand
like he was as desperate for touch as me. I stroked his ears, and he whined, arching his back and dipping his head to peek up at me.

  “One: I’m a pathological liar. Two: I believe that I must count backward from a hundred every day or I’ll never be allowed to shift. Three: my mum told me that my own dad died because of my wickedness.”

  When had my cheeks become wet?

  At the Omega’s howl — he’d picked number three — I shook my head.

  “They were all true; that’s the trick. Come on, pathological liar here.” I gave a smirk but I knew that I hadn’t pulled it off by the soft lick of the Omega’s tongue across my palm. Wow, that reminded me of Glow. Wolves had a charming licking fetish. “I hope that my wolf’s okay,” I muttered. “He’d hate it if mum’s caged him again.”

  Or if my sister, Hartley, had put him in a dog bed and pinned ribbons in his curly hair like he was her pet. Hartley had always been desperate to play with Glow when we were kids. My breath hitched, as I hit the Erase Button on that image.

  The Omega nudged me hard with his nose, and I winced.

  Truth: Did you take an insensitive pill? We’re all caged.

  I caressed the Omega’s silky ear, before I murmured low enough that I hoped even the Hecate statues couldn’t hear me, “Why should you trust someone like me? But even so, I promise that I’ll learn the magic lessons from these witches and then I’ll free us all.”

  The Omega’s eyes sparked, as he nodded.

  Suddenly, Hecate’s bronze snake shot out like a lasso, whipping around my neck. I struggled, as the Omega howled and scrabbled at the bars of his cage. Hecate hauled backward, however, jerking me into the air. My heartbeat raced, whilst I flailed. My lungs burned at the lack of air. Hecate dragged me into her embrace, finally loosening the snake just enough for me to take a desperate breath. Then she trailed her hands up and down my chest. Her sisters writhed in excitement that they’d hooked their wizard prize.

  I bit on my lip hard not to beg to be put down, as I dangled from the statue’s arms.

  “Hey, give my Voted Sexiest Mage’s Ass in England a chance here. Surely you’re not going to kill me, before I’ve even had a chance to become your Star Pupil…or should it be Model Prisoner…?” I demanded.

  The high-pitched desperation in my voice was enough to call bullshit without needing my powers of Confess.

  Mum had always warned me that if she let me free, I’d die. I hated to prove her right on my first night independent from my family.

  The snake noosed my neck even tighter, and I choked.

  Chapter Five

  Rebel Academy, Saturday August 31st

  Fox

  There are times that I own the fact I’m a Rebel, shimage, and bad boy. And others when I regret no longer being the obedient son that I’d once been for my family, before what had come to be known as the Kitten Incident. This — being lynched by a snake, whilst being snuggled in the arms of Hecate in a castle that looked like a wedding cake — was one of those regret moments.

  I missed dad. Yet there was nothing like being strangled to make you hunger for life.

  Why had mum dropped me off here if I wasn’t good enough to be one of the students? Why hadn’t she simply thrown me to the wolves, which was the traditional punishment for mages? Plus, why hadn’t I caught her lie that she’d never meant me to enroll in Rebel Academy, only to be murdered?

  White lights danced in front of my eyes. I slumped, as my eyelids fluttered. Sluggishly, I began to count backward from a hundred for one final time…

  Pink fires blazed across the bailey. Startled, I blinked back to consciousness.

  In a flurry of crow feathers that rained down like tears, a witch appeared in front of the statue, and the Omega whimpered. The witch’s obsidian dress swept the snowy ground beneath her feathered coat; I bet that she wasn’t freezing her balls off and not just because she didn’t have balls. Her silver blonde hair tumbled to her shoulders, and a feather was tucked behind her ear. Her eyes glimmered in sparkling pink.

  Her intense gaze spoke of war, death, and vengeance.

  She’d have been beautiful if she hadn’t also been Damelza Crow, mum’s fanatical best friend, who was Head of this coven.

  My dick shriveled at the memory of Damelza shoving me into a corner as a kid for daring to ask if she was part crow. I could cope with a time-out now, however, rather than a hanging.

  “Stop playing with the new student, even if he is our snared fox,” Damelza chided like Hecate was only roughhousing.

  Hecate pouted, before her snake released me, and I gasped in desperate lungful’s of air. Then Hecate smirked, letting me go. I yelped, cracking my knees on the cobblestones, as I landed.

  It looked like the goddess was as much a rebel as the students.

  “Cheers, you’re a life-saver,” I rasped, rubbing at my neck. My shoulders were tight, and I carded my hand through my unruly hair. It’d been a long time since I’d seen a witch and I couldn’t help how I shook. “You know, Hecate and I’ve eloped. All that was merely our passion that got out of hand. I’m meant to be starting my induction here in the morning, however, so if you could tell me where I can find the Principal, then I’ll save my kinky fun with my new wife for a more appropriate time.”

  Bad mouth…stop talking, stop talking, stop…

  “Do you know the one thing that I hate more than werewolves?” Damelza clasped her hands behind her back, eying me like I was a fascinating new hex to be countered.

  I cocked my head. “Scarecrows?”

  Damelza’s lips pinched. “Mages.” I wrapped my arms around my middle, as Damelza prowled towards me. “A mage has not stepped foot within these blessed walls for centuries, and the first song that you sing is “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead”…?”

  I was having another one of those regret moments.

  “In my defense,” here came my first Rebel House Points, “I didn’t sing “The Wizard’s Vengeance”.”

  Damelza blinked at me. “Well, I shall simply have to thank Hecate for small mercies.” I grinned: score. “In her infinite wisdom, Hecate’s already Chosen your Wing of our academy with your kinky fun and her snake. I’m in full agreement that you suit the Randoms.”

  “Woah, hold on,” I pushed myself shakily to my feet, “I’m not saying that I doubt your psycho Sorting Hat…wait, that’s exactly what I’m saying…but Randoms…? Like the guy who you chat to but you don’t even know his name…?”

  Damelza’s smile was sharp. “Like the mage who you don’t bother speaking to because his name doesn’t matter.” I blanched. When Damelza stroked her hand down the thigh of the Hecate who was holding the keys, Hecate simpered. “Had a miracle happened, and Keys here had Chosen you, then you’d have been with the elites of the academy: The Princes in the North Wing.” She nodded at the Hecate who was swinging her torch. “Our third goddess represents the powerful Immortals, who shall be your mentors and patrons in the West Wing.”

  I bounced on the spot. “I wasn’t ready before. Let’s try this Choosing again. In a former life, I was an immortal prince who was worshiped by—”

  “Stop talking,” Damelza’s cheek twitched, “or you’ll have the shortest student record between arrival and visiting the Principal’s study.”

  I stiffened. “Let me guess…”

  “I’m the Principal, indeed.” Damelza fiddled with the feather behind her ear. “What was that special little song you sang again?”

  I froze, for once in my life managing to keep silent.

  When a chill wind blew down my neck, I jumped. The scent of the woods cocooned me. Rebel Ghost had returned to protect me from Damelza, and I didn’t care if I was lying to myself because the sensation of her magic was electric.

  No woman had ever touched me…anywhere…before, and technically they weren’t even now. But who cared about technicalities when my skin goose bumped and my breath quickened?

  Then ice-cold lips feathered tentatively against mine, and I pressed back eager
ly. This was my first kiss, and it was with death. Yet Rebel Ghost tasted like life.

  I gasped, and my dick hardened uncomfortably in my tight pants. I took everything back. This was the best welcoming committee ever: a bronze goddess, werewolf, and a kissing spook.

  Who had this Rebel once been? Why was she still hanging around kissing mages? And more importantly…please, Great Pan…don’t let her stop.

  Even though I now had no home, she made me believe that she could become mine.

  Then Damelza rapped on Hecate’s ass — clang, clang, clang. Hecate hissed in outrage.

  “Sorry to break up your sexy times with yourself,” Damelza yawned, “but it’s late, I’m bored, and you’re creeping me out with all the kissy faces.” I flushed and could’ve sworn that the spook snickered against my neck. “Time to be branded.”

  “Whatever…wait, what?” I scrambled backward, but the Hecate with the torch snatched me by the hair, hauling me closer.

  She grabbed my wrist, before swinging the torch around. Pink flames leapt out, searing the back of my hand. I howled, and the Omega howled in sympathy along with me. At last, Hecate let go of my hair, and I huddled on my knees, cradling my branded hand, which throbbed with a curling R.

  “You couldn’t just have marked me as a Rebel with a name tag?” I demanded.

  “It’s R for Random,” Damelza replied, primly.

  I groaned. “Hex me to death now.”

  “Sadly, that’s against Health and Safety.” When Damelza waved her hand, the night sky lit up with an explosion of fireworks that showered us in a showy display of the RA crest, followed by:

  Rebel Academy — Blessing the Wicked Since 1870

  I oohed and aahed, before politely clapping. Okay, the wicked was rude, but I hadn’t seen fireworks since I was a kid. So, if Damelza wanted to call me a worthless son of a spineless hedgehog in Catherine wheels, then she could.

  Oh, but it’d hurt.

  Damelza’s cheek twitched again. “I always thought that your mum was exaggerating about you. Well, that was a mistake. Let me make something clear: you’re here to learn control of your magic, and in turn, you’ll help your patrons master their powers. This academy is dedicated to excellence.”