Fox’s smile was strained. “More like, behind my balls. And haven’t I introduced myself? I’m Merlin.”
Damelza only leaned closer. “Then it’s a good thing that I have both you and Aquilo by the balls. No one’s getting through the wards, even if they’re Merlin…or a god. And your cousins have one of those tamed. The angelic god rants and flaps his glittery wings, which I can’t wait to pluck.” I flinched at the same time as Fox. “If they don’t take the hint and leave, then I’ll have to decide that they’re all Rebels. I’ll lower the wards, allow them to arrogantly waltz in here and then…” When she clapped her hands together, Fox and I both jumped. Damelza’s eyes glittered maliciously. “I’ll raise the wards again, and they’ll be trapped the same as any Rebel.”
“Please, don’t,” Fox gasped, before promising in a rush, “I didn’t ask them to save me. What do you want me to do?”
Damelza’s smile widened. “Write them a letter. Tell them how happy you are to be here and how much you don’t want to leave. If you’re lucky, they’ll respect that. You love your family, don’t you? I thought that the one talent you at least excelled in was lying.”
Fox’s eyes were bright with tears. I quivered, glaring at Damelza. How dare she use Fox’s power against him to tear him apart from his family.
How many families had tried to take back their children or changed their minds only to discover that it was too late? I’d always thought that the Rebels were abandoned here but perhaps, the House of Crows had tricked just as many people to make it look like that?
My eyes became flinty, as I studied the way that Fox lowered his head before Damelza. Discovering the academy’s secrets had shot right up my To-Do list, just beneath surviving the start of term.
“They’ll work it out,” Fox said, quietly. “Aquilo knows me too well.”
With a flourish, Damelza snatched a peacock feather off her desk, before grabbing Fox’s hand and rubbing the feather over it. “The effect only lasts a few minutes, but now you can only tell the truth.”
“With my hand?” Fox ventured.
Damelza clutched him by the wrist, wiggling his fingers in the air in front of him. “Whatever you write here, they’ll see in front of them and know that it’s the truth. So, be creative.”
Fox swallowed, before glancing to where I leaned against the wall. He could sense me. I curled out strands of mist to wrap around his ankles, although it did look weirdly like he’d walked into a hag’s cave, but it appeared to anchor him. Then even though his face was etched in grief, he wrote in curling script:
My Principal’s allowing me to write. It’s magical, I’m sure you can tell, so I can’t lie. It’s odd like a tugging on my brain when I try. Normally, it’s frowned upon, okay, seriously forbidden, to have outside contact, except with the person who registered you for the academy. The Principal doesn’t like you being here because I’m settling in.
Today, I start my classes. Warrior Training is the first lesson, but I can’t take part in that, so my first real lesson is Spells, Hexes, and Potions. And yeah, I know that’s a mouthful. Apparently, the students call it SHP, but I just sound like a robin when I say it. I’ve made some friends already who truly look out for me. I’ve even met a witch who’s sexier and kinder than any witch I’ve met before.
Aquilo, I’m free from the attic. We never thought that would happen, right? I’m not kept in a cell and I haven’t been whipped even once. I went on a picnic, and I never thought that would happen again.
Please, don’t try and break me out because it’s dangerous. I need to learn to be independent after so long locked away.
I love and miss you…
Fox’s finger wavered, shaking so hard that he could no longer write. His face was wet with tears, and when I reached up to touch my cheeks, so was mine.
Locked in the attic? Happy that he hadn’t been whipped? I shuddered at the thought of the life that Fox must’ve led before, if the academy in truth meant freedom to the mage.
I flew across the room, ignoring Damelza, who slunk back around her desk, sinking into her chair with a satisfied nod.
Fox hugged his arms around his middle like he was hugging me.
“Is that everything? Would you like to cut out my heart as well?” Fox muttered.
“Not just now; hearts are always harvested at the full moon.” Damelza rifled through the papers on her desk like she hadn’t just torn Fox apart. “Well, go and wait for your classmates to be finished in Warrior Training. Remember, you’re the whipping boy. If I were you, I’d make sure that I won every lesson because if the Immortals lose the Rebel Cup, you’ll die.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rebel Academy, Monday September 2nd
Bask
Warrior Training was deadly for an incubus whose arse was slinky, sexy, and not for kicking. I’d been trained in diplomacy. Ma had never intended that I wield a sword, but rather that I use both my body and words as weapons. But then, she hadn’t intended that the Duchess would choose me to bond with either.
Good intentions made pettable arses out of all of us (snicker).
When Bacchus pulled me aside before class, with a sweep of her toga that trapped me against the side of the building, I drew in my breath. The rough stone of the Conqueror Gym bit into my back, and I squirmed. The breeze cut across the frozen river and my cheeks. The spires of Oxford always looked so close from here.
Was the tutor going to punish me for sneaking out of the Wing, my part in stealing the food, entering the Dead Wood or… I cocked my head.
Yep, I was bad.
When I smirked, Bacchus narrowed her eyes. The aroma of spicy red wine coiled around me, as she casually leaned closer. Pocus wound over her shoulders like a scarf, blinking at me sleepily.
“I made a mistake to forget that a panther lurked beneath your cutie pie mask.” She stroked the back of her hand down my cheek, and I fought not to flinch. “I concentrated on the mage, when it was the witch that I should’ve feared.”
“Don’t hurt Magenta,” I hissed.
Bacchus’ eyes widened in surprise. “Why would I do that? And why would you defend a witch? She’s the Prefect, and we have a whipping boy now to play with.”
I gritted my teeth. “If it pleases you, just punish me now, so that I’m not late to class.”
Bacchus blinked. “But you haven’t displeased me, Crave.” I couldn’t fight the way that warmth flooded me at pleasing her. It was simple biology like waking up with a boner. Never turn down a pleasure feeding. I was certain ma used to say that, or I could’ve made it up. Either way, it was good advice. “You’ve surprised me, and that’s always thrilling. The Immortals now outnumber the Princes, which tips the balance in our favor, but the stakes are much higher. Trust me, there’s a joy in the dark, and Magenta overflows with it.”
I frowned. “Stakes?”
Pocus yawned, and Bacchus patted him on the head. “Whichever side loses, will have their whipping boy executed.”
No, no, no…
My legs buckled, and I fell to my knees. I wrapped my hands over my head like I could block out…everything.
It was Hector all over again.
I’d promised to keep Fox safe, but Bacchus had warned that the Princes were fiercely competitive over the Rebel Cup.
I couldn’t watch Fox die.
As if she understood, Bacchus crouched down, firmly pulling my arms away from my head. “Did hiding ever help you before?”
Rule 65 of the Incubi Night Code: Never hide because punishment is always worse once you’re found.
I shook my head.
“Then let me see your claws, panther, and ensure that you win the Rebel Cup. You may not even be here at the end of the week to see the punishments carried out.” My pulse pounded in my temples at the way that her expression gentled into pity. Wow, that was a disturbing look on her. “Darling, you fight me like I’m not on your side, but believe me, I am. I’m not meant to warn you but then, the Duchess is Damelza’s g
uest this week. I have a feeling that if you win the Rebel Cup, you’ll be the student who’s freed into her custody.”
Don’t cry… Tears make you ugly… Nobody loves an ugly incubus…
I took desperate gasps, struggling to hold back my tears. All of a sudden, Bacchus’ hands were on my shoulders, steadying me. Pocus leaped into my lap, rubbing his head against my legs in comfort. But their touch felt muted and far away because I was back in the Duchess’ palace, as she’d trained me.
As she’d broken me.
I’d been made to lie down but lever myself up onto my fingertips and toes, so that I didn’t touch the marble floor, which the Duchess had then lit with a magical fire. For an hour, I’d managed to hold myself up, but my shoulders had quivered with the strain, and my thighs had ached.
The Duchess had watched me calmly from the bed.
All the Duchess’ other incubi (she’d bonded with four, and I was the youngest, lucky me), had swooned at her beauty: her flowing red hair and peachy skin. But she’d treated me differently to the rest because I’d been the weird kid. She’d only chosen me because she’d been excited by the challenge of the Night son who’d been known to be different.
Ma had tried to keep me in the shadows and away from the Succubi Court, but the Duchess had still selected me.
You could never hide.
“Stand up, if it hurts,” the Duchess’ words had been quiet, yet they’d rung inside my mind, “but then you won’t please me. It’s your choice.”
I’d despaired because I hadn’t understood. Where was the choice, when you were hardwired to please? Instead, I’d collapsed onto the fire.
The next day, she’d repeated the training.
Except, she hadn’t said a word.
“Please,” I’d gasped, as my arms had shaken.
“Please, what?” The Duchess had been reading a book and hadn’t even glanced up.
“Please tell me what you wish. What do you desire? I want to be yours.” I’d ached to be hers because that was what a bond was like. I’d been young and hopeful still
I’d just craved to be loved.
“I want…” The Duchess had slipped in a bookmark, before placing down her book. She’d folded her hands in her lap. My heart had clenched, and I’d been flooded with joy that I could at last please her. “…you to hurt yourself.”
I’d shuddered, willing the tears that were matting my eyelashes not to fall.
Please, don’t let her see them.
I’d bitten my lip to hide my disappointment, before I’d let myself fall onto the fire.
The following day, I’d been back in the same position, but this time the Duchess had towered over me, watching me with a hungry intensity. She’d been taller than me, and I’d never felt it as much as in that moment.
“Beg me,” she’d whispered, “beg me to let you burn yourself.”
At last, Bacchus’ quiet words reached me again like I was rising up from the bottom of a dark river, along with Pocus’ purr, “It takes a cruel trauma to break a bond. Taming a guy is one thing but… If I had my choice, she wouldn’t get a second chance.”
It was a struggle to remember Rule 3 of the Incubus Night Code: An incubus must mask their true feelings.
I kept my gaze lowered as I asked with difficulty, “She wishes to take me back?”
Maybe I could get Bacchus to transform me into a Pomeranian before then…? Fox would love to carry my fluffy cuteness around in a satchel.
Bacchus’ lips thinned. “She’s here to inspect your progress.”
I knew what inspect meant.
I needed to hurl. But whatever happened, I had to hide it from the other Rebels because their love was real, and if the Duchess did take me away again, then I wanted something to hold onto that was untarnished by fear or sadness. I craved just one week of love to keep me warm for the rest of my life.
Don’t let them learn the truth…not like this…
I could be brave if it gave them the illusion that we were safe in our love for one week.
“That means no touching any of the Immortals for the next week. Damelza even struck Magenta, whose new name is Crow, with a powerful Incubus Repellent hex.” Wow, that was rude. “She’ll be hit with an electric shock if she goes within three inches of you, which would be admittedly amusing.”
I paled. No touch…? I’d go crazy, and worse, my hair would go lank.
“I can’t survive a week without—”
“Sorry, didn’t I say?” Bacchus’ grin was wicked, as Pocus jumped back onto her shoulder. “The Princes will take turns massaging you.”
I choked on my own tongue.
So much for not being punished.
Although, the thought of the Princes being forced to serve my sexy self, made it worth it (especially the coldly regal elf).
Could I choose what they wore? I sighed. Juni seemed the type who’d go for it.
Yep, Willoughby in a maid’s outfit: fantasy role-play Number 49. And Sleipnir had told me it’d been a waste of an evening to make that role-play list.
Bacchus dragged me to my feet, before shoving me towards the Conqueror Gym. “I take it that you’re clear about not touching the Immortals? You’ll just have to love yourself, darling. At least you’ve had plenty of experience, and so has your hand.”
I blushed. But who was I kidding? She was right. I wiggled my fingers: you’re not out of a job, boys.
I trotted into the gym, which streamed with sunshine from the wide windows out over the river, only to be faced with the frowning angelic Professor of Dueling, Ezekiel, as the class waited on my slinky arse. I ran a hand through my hair in case a morning without snuggling had already forced me to lose my edge and brought on Ezekiel’s I’m five seconds from spanking you face (which was admittedly scorching hot).
Nope, I still had it.
I ducked my head: time for the innocent face. Away with you, I was better than Puss in Boots at it. “Sorry.”
Ezekiel’s expression gentled. He tucked his beautiful violet wings behind him, whilst studying me with his equally violet eyes. As an Addict Angel — angels who became obsessed with the human world, which was forbidden by the dick angels who considered themselves purer in Angel World — he wore only ash harem trousers.
Be warned: incubus envy was a dangerous thing, and I envied Ezekiel’s bronzed six-pack. His abs, obviously, rather than his beer. When I met Magenta’s shy smile across the gym, as she rested with her head on Sleipnir’s shoulder, however, I could’ve done with a quick drink. Maybe it would’ve settled the crawling underneath my skin that demanded I please someone or they please me.
The Duchess had called those whom she’d punished through removal of touch: The Not There. Everyone in the palace would be ordered to ignore them like they’d been turned into a ghost. It’d only happened to me once, and that had been what’d broken my bond.
I shivered at the thought of Magenta’s hands caressing me, plucking at my nipples, or cupping my balls. Then the thought of Willoughby dressed in a maid’s outfit and massaging my arse intruded, and I sighed because that was all I was getting from now on.
Last night, I’d been filled with nothing but a happy tingling across my skin. Magenta had been free and alive in my arms.
The woman from the portrait had been made flesh.
All right, she’d been unconscious. But I liked to look on the bright side. I’d even allowed Magenta to snuggle in my nest with all my pillows as a special concession (even Nile).
If that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was.
But now, she was spelled so that we couldn’t even get close to each other. I squared my shoulders. If the Duchess wanted to turn me into a Not There even within the academy, she could kiss my pettable arse. I wouldn’t break for her twice.
“Glad you could join us.” Ezekiel tried for commanding but he couldn’t help the smile. Cute…and hot. Away with you, I had a thing for angels, even if they were professors with more muscles than was decent. “I�
�ve been warned about your special needs, so I’m afraid that we’ll have to mix things up for this session. You need to be partnered with someone different.”
Why did he look apologetic?
Then Ezekiel’s wings were wrapped around me, as he led me to the far corner, which was painted in murals of grand battles that had been fought by previous Rebels. I took a moment to cuddle into the feathery softness. They smelled tangy but sweet like citrus cream.
Resist the urge to suck as well as to snuggle.
I knew that Ezekiel was offering me this short treat of gentle touch. He was the kindest of the professors, even if he was physically the strongest. Then I noticed who was lounged against the wall, waiting to be my partner. Wait, I retracted that part about the kindest.
Ezekiel twisted me, until I was forced to look at him. “Whipping boys aren’t allowed in my lesson, although I’ve fought for their inclusion, and you can’t touch Crow. She declined with certain choice words the offer to be partnered with a fae.”
“Choice words like: It would cause the slow death of my soul?” I cocked my head.
Lysander straightened. His eyes narrowed dangerously. He’d neatly folded his black blazer with the P crest embroidered in silk to one side, and his pink silk shirt hung open at the neck, revealing a glimpse of his translucent collar bone. His tight black trousers left less to the imagination than mine. He looked as much like a dashing but arrogant warrior as I didn’t.
Ezekiel crossed his arms. “Crown wasn’t exactly overjoyed to be paired with you either.”
I took a cautious step towards Lysander. “Did I spoil his play date with the wee elf?”
Lysander’s eyes narrowed even further.
Ezekiel stalked back to the center of the gym. “When he heard that Willoughby was to be replaced today by you, he gagged.”
Well, didn’t that just help a guy’s ego?
Lysander smirked, tossing his emerald hair with a beat of his golden wings, and I couldn’t help seeing…just for a moment…my Andro. I flushed with the memory of that little swirl Andro did with his tongue on my dick (it should be a superpower), as well as his delicious cuddles. But then, I saw the harshness in this fae’s eyes, rather than the softness, and there was no doubt that it was Prince Lysander.
Rebel Academy: Crave: A Paranormal Academy Romance Series (Wickedly Charmed Book 1) Page 17
