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

by Rosemary A Johns

  This incubus didn’t do ignored. It must be in the Night Code somewhere. Probably towards the back.

  I shot Sleipnir a coy look, before snuggling against Fox’s chest. Then I shook at how much I needed…craved…the touch like a fever heating my skin. “I wished for another student, and now we have our own whipping boy.”

  Sleipnir still didn’t look up as he drawled with a cultured New York accent, “I’m delighted that you’re excited.”

  You know, Sleipnir should’ve taught lessons on How to Slay with Sarcasm.

  Fox’s expression became haughty. “You should be, after all, I’m secretly King of the Supernaturals. I’m only in hiding here from my wicked stepmother, and it’s your job to serve me until I ascend to rule you all.”

  The mage truly was my little bundle of lies. He was going to be fun.

  I rolled my eyes. “Get on with you, I saw your file, remember?”

  Fox deflated. “Whoops…?”

  Then he stiffened. His breathing became too fast and ragged, but he dropped his gaze to try and hide it.

  I froze myself because I knew what it was like to wait in fear of punishment. In the Duchess’ Court, I’d known little else. How could I’ve let him think that I’d ever whip him? I was descended from the ancient lineage of Night, and just as I knew that I could never have shiny enough hair, so I knew that I’d do anything to protect and look after those who belonged to me.

  And this mage belonged to me. If he let me, I’d love him.

  I touched Fox’s cheek with my glove, which to an incubus is a more intimate greeting than a kiss and means safety, reassurance, and love. Fox’s breath stuttered, and he flushed.

  The thing of it was, here in the Rebel Academy we were all the abandoned, but it didn’t mean that we couldn’t make it our home.

  My brow furrowed, when I noticed Fox’s shivering. Humans weren’t as naturally hot as incubi (of course, snicker). I bustled around Fox, pulling off his damp suit jacket and gathering his possessions from his suitcase to place at the bottom of the wardrobe. After all, it was now his wardrobe as well, and that made me glow with joy. It’d shattered me to have to clear out Hector’s belongings at the end of the summer term after his death. The room had seemed so empty.

  But now we had Fox.

  I slunk back to Fox, winding his hair around my finger. “I can care for you, protect you, love—”

  “I don’t care what the freaky statue or the psycho principal said: I don’t belong to you.” Fox disentangled himself from me, backing away and wincing as his arse was scorched by the fire, which shot up like the room itself was insulted. My eyes flashed with hurt, before I carefully masked it. “Even if my name’s fox, I’m not a pet.”

  “But I am.” I prowled towards him. My eyes glittered. Did he think that I wasn’t a predator? Silly human. “Don’t you want to pet me?”

  When he reached out his hand, stroking my silky black hair, I sighed and bowed my head.

  At last, Sleipnir looked up. “Incubi require touch because they kind of feed through the giving of pleasure, and in the case of our Lord of the Cuddles here, the taking of it too, which makes him seriously demanding—”

  “Does it please you to be cursed only to be able to sing Brittany Spears songs?” I raised my head, narrowing my eyes.

  Fox snatched his hand away from my hair like he’d just realized that he’d been stroking a grizzly that’d disguised itself as a plushie.

  I smirked. Pettable arse, shiny hair, and predator vibes all working. I was on fire.

  Sleipnir almost stopped playing, before he masked his alarm. “Did I say demanding? I meant pettable, trust me.”

  I snuggled back onto Fox’s shoulder with a sigh like I’d just won a war.

  Fox tilted his head as he studied Sleipnir, who sprawled across the bed, as if he owned it as well as the academy. “Are you a jinni?”

  Sleipnir broke off his tune with a twang of broken notes that set my teeth on edge. Then he gaped at Fox. I tightened my hold on Fox just in case Sleipnir decided that he was in a spanking mood and not the fun kind.

  My arse was made for spanking, stroking, and kissing. Well, it was versatile. Fox’s arse belonged to Voyeur Ghost; it was why he was anointed with her scent.

  And why I loved him.

  Sleipnir frowned. “I’m a rock god.”

  I spun towards the bed, launching myself onto it and crawling towards Sleipnir, who smelled like the sun on hot mountain pebbles. “Can we be groupies, please?”

  Fox crossed his arms. “I’m no one’s groupie. I’m a shimage.”

  For the first time, Sleipnir’s expression softened, and his eyes flashed with something close to pity. “Odin’s spear, stop kicking your own ass. I’m certain that you’re not a shit mage. I can be a bit of a prick but I’ll still help you discover your talents…”

  Fox gritted his teeth. “Are all immortals this…?”

  “Alluring?” I waggled my eyebrows.

  “Awesome?” Sleipnir suggested.

  I bounced to my knees. “Adorable, angelic, and assalicious.”

  Fox spluttered with laughter. That was a fine sound.

  Sleipnir shrugged. “Only Bask here,” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and I preened, “and me.” He held out his hand like suddenly he’d remembered his manners and was the one doing Fox a favor. “I’m Sleipnir, the son of Loki.”

  Fox shrugged, before strolling to the bed and shaking the hand of the god like it was only polite.

  I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you just say Loki’s son?”

  I’d never doubted that his da was Loki, the Norse god of mischief and mayhem. I still didn’t know who his ma was though.

  Sleipnir’s fingers squeezed Fox’s, as his candy pink eyes danced with laughter like he was sharing a secret joke with him. Fox shook with the shock of the new connection like he’d never had anyone offer him friendship before.

  Had he been as lonely as me?

  When Fox wrenched back his hand hurriedly, Sleipnir raised his eyebrow in surprise.

  Then Sleipnir flicked my forehead. “You have no style.”

  Oh, he so didn’t just insult my honor…

  Rule 18 of the Incubi Night Code: If someone attacks your sense of style, attack them where it hurts.

  My lips curled in a way that would make even a god’s balls shrink back inside them and wave the white flag, before I straddled Sleipnir’s lap. “I have plenty of style, Slippy.”

  Yet when I ground down on Sleipnir’s lap, it was Fox who groaned.

  Perhaps, he had been as lonely as I’d been, when I’d been trapped with no one but the Duchess and the other bonded incubi, because the way that I conquered Sleipnir with just my arse (an incubus must use whatever weapons they have handy), made him cross his arms in a poor attempt to hide how his hands shook.

  Sleipnir gripped my hips, stilling me, before he assessed Fox. “Hey, talking of style, I take it that you’re a Goth?”

  Fox blinked at him and then glanced down at his black suit. “Did my copy of The Satanic Bible give it away? Or did the porters bring up my coffin? I mean, tomorrow I have plans to slaughter someone…or myself, I haven’t decided yet, but it’s in my diary for between 9 and 9:30.”

  “Whatever,” Sleipnir scoffed. “So, you want to lie that today was your mom’s funeral as well?”

  “Why would I do that when it was my dad’s?” Fox replied, softly.

  My breath hitched, and I tumbled to sit cross-legged next to Sleipnir on the bed. My eyes smarted with tears, but I didn’t let them fall because crying was ugly, and it’d been beaten into me enough that I had no right to make myself ugly.

  No one loved an ugly incubus.

  I missed ma. It’d been three years since I’d last been allowed to see her. Now that I’d been shamed (so, the truth of it was that I’d shamed myself by failing to please the Duchess, and even thinking that felt like a boot to the balls), and sent away to the academy, I had no right to see my family ever
again.

  My hands fisted in my lap.

  Sleipnir’s expression became stricken. He laid down his guitar, before tugging Fox to perch on the bed next to him. I curled my hand around the back of Fox’s neck again.

  “I’m sorry,” Sleipnir whispered.

  Fox blinked away tears.

  Then Sleipnir grinned. “The asshole witches are going to hate you. You’ve more of a silver tongue than my dad, and hey, I’m only here because they’re trying to capture his ass.”

  “You’re bait?” Fox questioned.

  Sleipnir’s gaze turned frosty. “How about we at least give it the title of hostage?”

  Over the summer, I’d asked Sleipnir why his da hadn’t ransomed him or brought down some Norse god wrath on the academy for taking him prisoner. It was the only time that I’d seen Sleipnir look so shaken that he hadn’t been in control. Sometimes, even I could be an idiot (startling discovery). Of course, my brilliantly versatile arse had saved me that night.

  When Fox clasped Sleipnir’s hand, Sleipnir’s gaze shot to his, as his expression became warm again. Yet Fox still cast an uneasy glance at the bed, and I didn’t miss the way that he made love to the pillows with his eyes…

  Yuck. I shuddered, officially withdrawing that image on behalf of my poor pillows.

  Fox still looked set to snuggle into them like they were his heaven, even if there was something unsettled about the way that he shifted.

  “I didn’t expect to get this cozy on my first night.” Fox nodded at the bed. “I may be Don Juan wrapped up in Romeo, with a touch of Lancelot and the charisma of Mr. Darcy,” I didn’t even attempt to smother my snicker, “but I still don’t share a bed with strangers.”

  “We’re not strangers; we’re the Rebels.” Sleipnir raised their joined hands to show the brands on the back of them. I clasped my own over the top. It felt like discovering family, and my breath caught. “We share a bed because Bask needs the touch, right? But it’s your call. Whipping boys are traditionally meant to sleep on the floor anyway. If you’d rather not share with us…”

  Fox yelped, as Sleipnir grasped his waist with a dangerous glint in his eye, attempting to tip him off the bed.

  Oh no, he didn’t… This mage was my toy, and he slept with me. Just not with my pillows or Nile. All right, it wouldn’t kill me to spare one pillow.

  I gasped in outrage, falling off Sleipnir’s lap and grabbing onto Fox’s arms to haul him further onto the bed, so that he was caught in a tug-of-war between us.

  At last, Sleipnir gave up with a huff, and I smirked: an incubus always wins his prize. Then I wound my arms around Fox’s shoulders in victory, pushing him down (with great generosity), amongst the pillows. He sighed, wriggling around in their softness.

  Yep, he definitely had a pillow fetish or maybe a satin one. I wouldn’t know until I checked out his underwear to see if it included panties.

  Where there was an imagination, there was hope…and wanking.

  All of a sudden, something glinted in the light. My brows furrowed. An amulet had worked its way out of Fox’s shirt in the struggle. When Sleipnir yanked at the amulet, Fox gagged.

  “What in the Nine Worlds is this?” Sleipnir’s eyes blazed with a godly fury that had my toes curling.

  Sleipnir’s eyes transformed from pink to glowing cinnamon red, just like his hair. The muscled arm that gripped Fox’s locket no longer glimmered with a sea serpent but snarled with a werewolf baring its fangs.

  The mage was screwed because Sleipnir was pissed. And when he was pissed, he was a bad bastard, even for a god.

  Fox cringed back. “Don’t…you’re not allowed to touch that. It’ll explode if you—”

  “Drama queen.” Sleipnir’s hand tightened, and Fox panted. “By the runes, my dad told me that some asshole once bound him like this with a Blood Amulet, and it was the worst violation of his magic. But then, he always uses pompous words like that.”

  Fox grabbed a pillow, clutching it to his chest like it could shield him from whatever haunted his past. Were they the same nightmares as haunted my own?

  Why had I ever thought that I’d mind sharing my pillows?

  I pinched my inner thigh, furious at my own incubus nature (curse my need for touch), but when Fox swayed, lightheaded, I wrapped my arms around him.

  I wished that Voyeur Ghost was here. We needed her. I didn’t want to remember the other sort of touch, and how I’d begged for pain.

  Sleipnir’s lips feathered up Fox’s jawline and then mine in sweet kisses, pulling us both back to a present that was joyful with casual magic and love.

  “See, I’m a rebel, and you deserve to be wild and free.” Sleipnir yanked at the amulet, and it snapped.

  Fox hollered, as his magic flooded through him. My eyes widened, and I was forced backward by the burst of power. Fox’s back arched. Then in a blue shower of sparkles, he shifted into an Arctic fox.

  I brushed my hand through my hair because when shocked, there’s still always time to look your best. But no matter how beautiful I looked, it’d never be as beautiful as the Arctic Fox, which was bouncing up and down on its stubby legs and thrumming with magic and excitement.

  And if that didn’t set off my incubus Envy-o-Meter, then it must be love.

  Fox twirled in a circle to catch glimpses of his creamy fur and bushy tail. I’d have laughed if his admiring his own fur hadn’t made me glow with pride. There definitely weren’t enough mirrors in here. I’d have to send another petition to Professor Bacchus.

  When Sleipnir hurled the Blood Amulet across the West Wing with scary accuracy into the brazier, the fire surged up to consume it. Then Sleipnir settled back onto the bed with a smug smile.

  That was such a god thing.

  I stroked behind Fox’s ear, and he cuddled into a tight ball on my lap. He was better than a plushie. This new student was the gift that just kept on giving.

  Wait, did I just coo at him?

  Sleipnir exchanged a glance with me, and I knew that there was another Rebel who I loved that Fox needed to know about, even if she’d already claimed him. “How about we introduce the ball of fluff to the final Immortal?” Fox’s ears twitched in interest and sleepy outrage. “I take it that since you’ve arrived, you’ve felt like you were being watched?”

  Fox barked, licking my hand.

  I knew that my brilliant lover would’ve watched over and chosen Fox, in the same way that I was protecting him. I’d felt her ever since I’d arrived, devastated and hurting last term. But she’d been there, allowing my worship.

  Without her, I’d still feel worthless.

  “That’s fox for: of course I’ve met the Voyeur Ghost or the Sexy Spirit. Either name is good.” I winked. “How about some specter loving?”

  I gasped, as the scent of yew trees wound around me.

  She was here.

  A wintry breeze ruffled the fur down Fox’s back. Then icy kisses trailed down my neck. I arched, moaning. Hot and cold flushed through me, and the tips of my fingers tingled. I ached to trail them down her skin.

  She hadn’t been able to stroke her frozen fingers down my sexy little body before. Was she growing stronger or was it because the mage had arrived?

  I twisted, rubbing my thumb tenderly over the wall behind the bed.

  Fox blinked his blue eyes with their long lashes, as Voyeur Ghost’s portrait (that I’d hidden by magic), materialized back onto the wall. Then he bounced off my knee and raised his tail, furiously gekkering.

  It looked like a certain mage hadn’t yet worked out how to conceal or control his emotions in animal form. Instead, he worked on instinct.

  That must’ve been freeing…and also made him look like a dick.

  I sighed dreamily, studying my love’s portrait. The woman Mona Lisa smiled like she was watching me. She was beautiful.

  How was it possible for the same person to look both innocent and wicked at the same time?

  Her long blond hair flowed around her shoulders, and she
wore a velvet dress with tulle like cobwebs. Her swan-like neck was adorned with a pearl choker necklace. Gloves covered every glimpse of skin up to her elbows. I loved that she must understand how I felt being forced to wear them.

  Fox shifted back into his human form in a spray of overexcited sparkles. Then he humped my thigh, whining. His eyes gleamed with an intense need, need, need that had washed through me when I’d first seen the portrait. Was it her desire for me or only his amplified that made him reach for me as a lover?

  I snickered, lying back. Fox could put on a decent show. Sleipnir shot me a judgey look (I considered reminding him of the incubus saying never look a gift hump in the mouth, but then decided that it sounded vaguely too kinky), before nudging Fox with my elbow.

  The tips of Fox’s ears flushed red, as he scrambled away from me. “Woah, sorry. What the….?”

  “Behold the mighty Dick Power of the Ghost Immortal.” I smirked. “Although, if it pleases you, my sexy behind is at your service.”

  Fox glanced away, even as his breath quickened. “I already have enough sexy behinds begging to serve me, cheers,” he muttered. “I had to turn down Selena Gomez just yesterday.”

  Sleipnir cocked his head. “Huh, do you ever start to believe your own lies?”

  Fox shrugged. “Sometimes, if I’m lucky.”

  I crawled to the portrait with a sinful slink of my hips (on purpose to outdo his memory of Selena), before kissing the painting on the cheek. For a moment, I smelled the wild forest.

  “Night, Ghost Immortal,” I whispered. Then I glanced over my shoulder at Fox. “It’s like this, see, she has no one else to care for her, and somehow, she’s trapped here the same as us. I’ve felt her more strongly since you arrived.” I scrutinized Fox, and he squirmed. “At least I can kiss her each night. I’m a romantic.”