At least, that was their excuse. Frustrating.
Caw, caw, caw.
I moaned, luxuriating for a final moment in the sensation of being held in my lovers’ arms. The bed was warm. Sleipnir’s arm was slung across my shoulder, and his pajama sleeve had ridden up. His skin lit my nerves on fire. Mist curled against his chest, snoring. Puffs of smoke blew against the sheets at each exhale. When I inched out from underneath Sleipnir, his brow furrowed.
He mumbled sleepily but didn’t wake up.
On my other side, Fox appeared calm and beautiful in his sleep like he was free from the cruelties that his family had made him suffer and the fear of the academy. Last night, the way that he’d shaken as soon as us Immortals had returned through the dragon statue had terrified me because I’d recognized his despair. He’d clasped my hand like I’d fade back into a ghost if he let go.
Fox still wasn’t safe here, however, even if his blond hair haloed on the pillow like he was at peace.
Wasn’t this the R.I.P Academy, after all?
I smiled, stroking over one of his curls, before kissing it. I breathed in his scent of raspberries, wishing that I could protect him…or devour him.
Perhaps, I could do both?
“Hey, wake up, Sleeping Bosoms,” Flair called. He hopped on the window ledge next to Echo. “We want to talk to you, boss.”
“Didn’t you miss us?” Echo asked, hopefully.
I sighed, wriggling out of the covers and slipping past Bask, who’d crawled in the middle of the night to the bottom of the bed. He was meant to sleep on the mattress that’d been placed on the floor, but he’d been shaken by nightmares for the last couple of nights, and I had a sense that they were about the visiting Duchess. Obviously, in the night, he’d sought shelter from the horrors by cuddling as close as he could to the rest of us. He clutched Nile in his arms like the crocodile toy would spring to life and snap off any attackers’ hands.
Did Bask not yet understand that it was I who’d hex anyone who sought to hurt him?
I could try for truly wicked, if I was pushed.
I tiptoed to the window, sliding onto the window seat. The braziers hadn’t yet been lit, and it was cold. When I pushed open the window, the icy wind slapped my cheeks in a familiar greeting that made me grin, and I held out my arm for Echo and Flair who hopped onto it.
Witching heavens, I forgot how heavy they were.
“I missed your feathery behinds more than you know, but did we have to hold this reunion at such an unholy hour?” I grumbled.
Flair ruffled his feathers. “The other witches are scary as fuck, boss. We don’t fancy being caught and trained like…”
“Familiars?” I arched my brow.
“On my fangs, we’re not familiars.” Echo rubbed his head against my arm. “We’re your familiars. You’d never want us controlled like those poor dragon shifters, right?”
I stroked Echo’s beak. “I have nothing but contempt for those who rule by control. I’d free you both if—"
“You don’t love us?” Echo gasped.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Pluck, stuff, and mount me in Crow Hall, look what your witchy muff has gone and done now!” Flair snapped his beak with an angry clack. “Tell him that you own him and other possessive shit, or so help me, I’ll wake you up at this time every morning for the next term.”
Ah, he knew my weakness.
I caressed Echo’s wing because that made him coo happily, as I promised, “You’re mine. I won’t free you. I assure you that both your twin and you are bonded to me, and I shan’t let you go.”
I could hear the smile in Echo’s voice. “As I’ve Fallen, I love you too.”
The Fallen…or at least this pair, before they’d been transformed to familiars…were decidedly weird.
“Should I be worried about how you’re spending your time without me?” I asked.
Flair’s cackle didn’t reassure me. “Let’s just say that we’re exploring, unearthing secrets, and working on your behalf.”
“Consider me still worried.”
“We find the time to peek in on the Princes,” Echo added dreamily like that’d take the edge off my glare. “Last night, the elf sang a song that flowed over me like a beautiful frozen river: “All is Found.” I could’ve drowned in it.”
“Oh, and his dick looked beautiful too under the shower.” Flair dove above my head in a victory lap. “That’s another one to me in the Wank Count.”
“Did you simply come here to boast about Willoughby’s prick or…?” My tongue darted out, wetting my lower lip.
Why had Flair put that image in my head? Now that I knew the elf, I understood Echo’s obsession with him. I didn’t love Willoughby as I did the Immortals, but I wished that the Princes weren’t divided in their own Wing. If Willoughby was lying in my arms, then I’d be able to understand why Lysander treated him as if he was as dangerous as me, called him killer, and manhandled him, despite the fact that he was equally royalty.
Yet also why Willoughby joked with Fox, was kind to Bask, and had helped Ambrose’s son.
When Flair landed on my head, and his claws bit into my scalp, I winced. “We came because your mage is in serious danger. I don’t care a fuck about much, but I know what it’d mean to you if another mage died.”
I nodded; my throat was too tight to speak.
“We listened to the Principal and her daughter talking. You drew in the Rebel Cup on Monday and lost yesterday. Blood and bones, unless you win today, the mage dies. Your power could uproot this entire infernal academy. Unleash your witchy bitch.”
I clenched my jaw. “Oh, the witchy bitch is ready. I shan’t allow Fox to die for me, just like Robin did. I shall destroy this castle, rather than watch an execution on Saturday. But…” I hesitated, lifting Echo off my knee and standing. I bunched my hands in my dress. “…I love the Rebels and am even fond of the haughty Princes. I’ve grown attached to life. I wish to find a way to save us all. I’m known for death and destruction alone. Why can’t I be known as more than the wicked witch?”
When I glanced up, I eeped.
Fox, Sleipnir, and Bask were awake, resting on their elbows and watching me. Why did they look so serious?
Oh yes, to them it appeared that I was ranting about death and destruction to myself like a crazy person. Wait, had I even just pronounced my love in such an unflattering way?
“You heard that?” I asked.
They nodded at the same time.
Come on, Magenta, think…
“Be generous and merciful to her who is your slave in love.” I smiled: that’d do it.
Behind my back, Flair cawed with laughter.
Fox’s smile was shy. “I don’t believe that you’re wicked. You love me when no witch ever has.”
Bask simply lay on his back, teasing up his pajamas to reveal his pale stomach. “Who wouldn’t love this slinkiness?”
“It’s too early in the morning for declarations of love.” Sleipnir ran his hand through his mop of aquamarine hair. Mist, on the other hand, flew across the room to nuzzle against my neck with a gentle whinny. After the spell in SHP, Sleipnir couldn’t hide his true emotions no matter how he tried. “You’re plotting with those ghost pests again?”
“Flair says: Tell the god to go fuck himself with Thor’s hammer,” I smirked, repeating Flair’s response minus half the cursing.
“Rude.” Sleipnir raised one elegant finger: “As well as ignorant: it’s called Mjolnir. You can tell the jerk crow that I’ve already hit that sweet Mjolnir’s ass, or more precisely, it hit mine.” Bask snickered, and I reddened. Sweet Hecate, it was always the quiet ones. Then Sleipnir cupped his prick through his pajamas, and I wished that I’d been able to replace those long fingers with mine. Wasn’t it cruel and unusual punishment to expect a lady to resist such temptation from the gods? “Plus, brave to enter the arena of trash talk with the son of Loki. Mr Dick says: come and suck me, and I’ll show you the meaning of a ch
aos moment, bitch.”
Ah, traditional banter. How I’ve missed it.
When Echo laughed, Flair shot him a betrayed look.
I cocked my head as if listening. “Flair says: Why would he, when the worm doesn’t look more than a mouthful?”
Sleipnir sat up in sleepy outrage; his hair stuck out at cute angles that I longed to smooth down for him. Mist pawed the air angrily, tossing his head.
Sleipnir pointed at me. “Hey, you’re making it up now.”
I smiled, innocently. “Perhaps.”
Bask pretended to snap Nile at me. “Naughty witch. Pet him.”
“My pleasure.” I stalked to the bed, crawling over Fox to straddle Sleipnir’s lap.
I slipped my hand down Sleipnir’s pants to fondle his prick like I’d been craving. His pupils became dilated, as his gaze met mine.
“Just a little lower,” Sleipnir panted, before yelping. “On the second thoughts, that’s low enough. More than a mouthful, huh?”
I leaned forward, thrilling at the silky feel of him and how quickly he’d hardened at my touch. His magic vibrated through mine; I could taste the power of every guy in the room. Yet their pleasure controlled them, as much as I craved it.
Was it pleasure or love? What was the difference?
“More than,” I murmured, kissing Sleipnir’s ear. He shivered. “But I’d rather that Flair didn’t peck you here.” I squeezed his prick, and he clenched his hands in the sheets. His prick, however, hardened even further. I loosened my hold, stroking it as if in apology. “I have rather high hopes for my future with Mr Dick—”
“Okay, now my balls have shriveled up and fallen off.” Fox stumbled out of bed, stretching. “That’s what happens when people go around talking directly to their dicks or naming them. It’s as creepy as watching your partner sleep.”
Wait, had Fox noticed my aww, he’s sleeping so peacefully moment earlier…?
Bask laughed, before slinking to hover over Fox’s shoulder like he was desperate to slip his arms around his neck. “Or making their partner watch them sleep.” When we all looked at Bask, he wrapped his arms around his middle. “That was just the Duchess then?”
When my hand tightened into a fist in instinctive rage, Sleipnir howled.
“Sorry,” I gasped, pulling away my offending hand and kissing across Sleipnir’s furrowed forehead. “I’m still practicing my technique.”
“Honestly, I’d never have known. It’s okay, Mr Dick,” he poked his tongue out at Fox, “forgives you…if he isn’t broken.”
I paled. “Sweet Hecate, I broke your boner…? Then we need to call Bacchus.”
Fox and Bask were laughing (which I thought decidedly unkind of them), but they both yelled no.
Sleipnir’s expression became grim. “On fear of the Valkyries, Professor Bacchus may be our tutor but she’s not on our side. Swear you’ll remember that.”
I nodded.
Fox scuffed his foot against the floor; he wouldn’t meet my gaze. “So, who’s going to mention the white elephant in the room?” When he was greeted by silence, Fox slammed his hand against his chest, and I flinched. “My execution on Saturday. You weren’t lying to your crows about all…that. I’d rather you didn’t bring down the next apocalypse but I mean, I’d rather not die either. If that was okay.”
My gaze softened. “Then we win today.”
“Seriously, it’s interesting how much you underestimate the Princes.” Sleipnir leaped off the bed, before doubling over with a wince like he’d forgotten his injury. Then he held out his hand to me, pulling me to the wall at the back of the bedroom. Fox and Bask trailed after us. “The Membership,” he announced like it was a magical spell the same as Open Sesame.
Ah, it was the same as Open Sesame because the wall opened, and a board that curled with the RA emblem and neon pink writing slotted out:
Rebel Academy Membership
RANDOMS
Confess — Whipping Boy
Curse — Whipping Boy
IMMORTALS
Crow — Prefect
Crave
Sleipnir
PRINCES
Crown — Prefect
Crush
The braziers flared with fire; their shadows flickered across the board.
“Randoms, Immortals, and Princes: R.I.P,” Sleipnir said, quietly. “When we die, our names fade. This isn’t simply an academy: it’s a prison. The Membership is what controls our brands, wards, and the missions. It’s the spell that holds the entire academy together because it was kind of written into the academy when it was created.” His gaze darted to me. “I’d guess you know about that.”
“Since I was a baby at the time, not really.” I couldn’t look away from my name because seeing it so boldly up there made the entire situation more real.
Even without the brand on my hand, I was trapped within the spell that my magic had helped to create. Oh, the cruel irony.
“Why is it divided like this? We’re all Rebels. What would happen if I used my magic to modify the spell…?”
A slow grin spread across Sleipnir’s face. “A chaos moment. If you broke the Membership, then the House of Crows would know, but if you moved a couple of the players around the board…? Huh, but that’d mean convincing the Princes or Midnight to join us as Immortals, and if you haven’t realized yet, this entire academy is set up to keep us as rivals.”
I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. “I have my ways,” then I glanced between the gorgeous Immortals, “and so do you.”
Bask smirked. “Who could resist such a pettable arse forever?”
“Please pick the elf.” Echo jumped up and down on the window ledge. “Think of all the snowmen you could build together.”
“How about you crows fly away now?” I arched my brow.
“Charming,” Flair grumbled, “like we don’t have Princes to watch in showers. Come on, brother.”
The familiars took off in a rain of feathers, flapping out of the open window.
Fox paled. “Prisons have parole. I’ll be the model prisoner. They don’t execute top students, even though I’m not the top… Okay, I’m the worst…but I’ll pledge to turn it around…”
Sleipnir caught Fox’s hands gently between his. “There’s no parole, and it kind of doesn’t matter what you do because you were born a mage.”
I hated that truth my entire life, but when I saw the devastation on Fox’s face, I could’ve torn up every witch tradition and rewritten worlds.
“B-but if I try harder…?” Fox whispered.
“To not be a mage?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“To not have magic?”
“Stop it.” Fox tried to pull away his hands, but Sleipnir held on.
“To have been born a woman?”
“Enough, Slippy, or does it please you to be cursed forever to discover only an empty toilet roll when you need paper?”
Sleipnir took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I was only trying to stop Fox from becoming like the Princes. I wouldn’t wish that Fate on anyone, even a stuck-up asshole like Lysander.”
Mist galloped across to Fox, landing on his shoulder. Then he nibbled on his ear as if in apology. Fox chuckled, nudging him away. Mist settled beside the warmth of the brazier instead, lowering his head to sleep again.
“Are we talking about the Fate to become pampered and top scoring students with luxury meals and quarters, as well as the best chance of winning the Rebel Cup?” Fox asked, sullenly. “Wow, save me now.”
Sleipnir and Bask exchanged a glance. “Omens and runes, I swear that the only reason the Princes fight to win with such ruthlessness is that they believe the contest is about more than a trophy.” Fox’s startled gaze met Sleipnir’s. My heartbeat raced, and my magic prickled through me. “I sort of feel sorry for their asses because they’re led to believe that there is an escape. If they only try hard enough and prove that they deserve to be princes, then their kingdoms will
want them back. This Rebel Cup…and everything that they suffer in the academy…is their redemption.”
My guts clenched, and my throat ached. I thought of the Princes, and I shuddered at their hope because I understood the need for redemption. I didn’t know what they’d done in their own kingdoms to be deposed as princes and sent here or what they were trying to make up for, but it didn’t matter. I’d been responsible for Robin’s death and the curse of perpetual winter. I knew about the search for atonement. I’d been lucky enough to find it in the protection of my Rebels.
“Don’t you believe that rather admirable?” I said, softly.
Sleipnir raised his eyebrow. “It’s dangerous, and it’s also seriously cruel because escape is the lie. Their kingdoms won’t take them back, no matter how their guardians trick them. But I guess that it’s easy for them to live in the delusion.” Sleipnir rested the back of his hand tenderly against Fox’s cheek “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you to lie to yourself about this—”
“Like I lie about everything?” Fox stalked away from Sleipnir, curling onto the bed. He peeked at me. “And I find it admirable, but I’m King of Exploding Lies, as well as telling them. I’ll free the Princes from their delusion, after all, I’ve been physician for Caligula, King George III, and Edgar Alan Poe…”
When Fox cuddled Nile like he was a whisker away from transforming into his cat form, Bask reddened with outrage, before prowling onto the bed as well. Sleipnir covered his face like he didn’t dare watch.
“Don’t steal Nile. He’s mine.” Bask grabbed Nile, cradling him like Fox had been ripping out his stuffing, rather than snuggling him.
Why had I never learned the incubus ritual that included crocodiles? Were they worshiped?
Rebel Academy: Crave: A Paranormal Academy Romance Series (Wickedly Charmed Book 1) Page 27
