Parents, they screw you sideways.
My true fam was lying on the wooden slab and he still hadn’t moved.
When Wild traced his fingers over the Mark, I growled. Only the owner of a Mark could touch them in that intimate place.
Wild chuckled. “Possessive? We’re well matched.”
“Are you going to share with the rest of the class or cling to your Big Bad posturing?” I sneered.
When Wild clawed his nails into the Mark, I jolted. Thank hell Rebel wasn’t conscious or he’d be a screaming puddle.
“What’s the problem? I thought that you only want him as your punching bag…?” Wild traced the V with his nail until it beaded with blood. I winced, unable to dodge my own words thrown back at me. I was more Austin Powers than Nick Fury. Underhand bastard. “The good behavior that you see here is a dead handy mind control, which I’ve been developing. The soft babby’s bawling was giving me a worse migraine than sunlight. I warned him. Now, he can hear and see us, but he can’t move so much as a feather….”
“Feel us…?” I quivered.
Wild leaned his strong forearms on the slab. “How would he learn if he didn’t feel?”
Hell, hell, hell…
When Wild unwound the belt around his waist, doubling it over, before tying the buckle end around his fist, I recoiled against the wall. “Call me a feminist, but my dream dates don’t start with a bloke wielding a strap. I blame 50 Shades of Grey.”
Wild stared at me blankly, before glancing down at his hand as if he hadn’t even realized there was a belt hanging from it. “Oh, bab, I’d never strike you.”
Crack, crack, crack.
The leather thwapped across Rebel’s chest, marking him with livid welts.
I leapt up, but Rebel didn’t move. There wasn’t even a flicker across the bond. He was trapped in his own body, however, and I knew that he felt it.
And that was bastard worse.
“Sit down,” Wild thundered.
“Get lost.” I grasped Rebel’s limp hand between my manacled ones, massaging his palm with my thumb.
He could hear me, see me, feel me…please let him feel me…
“I said,” suddenly Wild’s voice was cold as ice water, and I shivered, “sit down.”
Crack.
The belt whipped across Rebel’s nipples. A fiery weal stained dusk across the nubs. But I didn’t let go of Rebel’s hand.
Instead, I hissed at Wild, “Bones, blood, bodies like corpses…it’s all freaky morbid. Either you’re a thwarted mortician or a closet necrophiliac.”
Wild’s calm shattered, and the next barrage of blows criss-crossed scarlet lines. “I said,” he clenched his jaw, “sit. Down.”
I craved to shoot calming emotions through the Mark to Rebel and show him my joy at being with him again…my love…that I couldn’t say in front of Wild.
I’d sacrificed Rebel’s little brother, leaving him behind in the cruel arms of the Matriarch, to save the slaves and my family in Angel World. I’d never had a chance to talk to Rebel alone about it, or help him grieve, before the vampires had caught us, and I’d been dragged away from him.
Despite what Wild thought, however, I could learn, and the Mark was a violation. I wouldn’t force myself on Rebel like Wild was now, or control him.
I wouldn’t be the same as these bastards.
I clutched Rebel’s hand more tightly.
Then Wild rested the leather across Rebel’s vulnerable prick, before raising the belt behind his shoulder.
Check mate.
I took a shuddering breath before I stumbled back to the stool. I booted the wall behind me, as Wild eyed me, hesitating.
Then he grinned. “It appears that the princess can be tamed.”
“You want me tame? I thought that you’d been playing my manager in the Cage to turn me feral.”
Wild opened his mouth as if to say something, before shutting it again.
I grinned. “Yeah, the bitch isn’t just a pretty arse.”
Wild hurled the strap along the floor. “Savage by my side, tamed in bed.”
The black beast, which had been growing monstrous inside me trapped underground, roared. My skin prickled, my insides burned, and my eyes flooded with shadows.
I would never kneel for another. I was the Bone Princess.
“I’d take that back if I were you,” I whispered, fidgeting in my seat. My nerves were grated raw.
“Why?” Wild scrutinized me. “I’m not the Master of Misrule: I won’t force you. You’ll Blood Bond willingly.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Not even if you pissed rainbows.”
“You’re a strange one, but I’ll get Mischief working on the rainbows. For now…?” Wild stabbed a claw into Rebel’s wing; I missed the way that Rebel should’ve yowled.
And the way I knew that he must be inside.
“Enough with the Pincushion Game,” I growled. “If consent’s forced, then it stops being consent, Brainiac.”
Wild dug in a second claw, and I flinched. “It’s a bargain. That’s willing enough for me. Your pet for your bond.”
Hell, hadn’t J warned me?
I panted, rubbing my sweaty palms together. How could I leave Rebel to this? I’d claimed him, and he’d fought by my side, kneeling for me.
There was no way I was abandoning my fam.
When Wild’s third claw shot out, I hollered, “Stop it. Don’t touch him, and I’ll—”
“Supreme Commander,” Trick’s head popped through the archway like an albino mole, “you’re needed on the battlefield. There’s been an attack—”
Wild bellowed, spinning to Trick with such ferocity that even Trick’s lounge lizard arrogance slipped. “One more moment…just one… This was a bargain…”
“And this is war.” Trick held up a thin finger. “The angels attack at our very heart.” His scrutiny slid to me, before he sneered, “You had one night to punish my Seducer, yet I find you here with an angel: fascinating. How many worlds will you devour, destroyer?”
My eyes narrowed. “How about just yours?”
Trick huffed, wrenching at his hair that’d been braided ready for battle. “Commander Drake and the Glories have attacked our Blood Lovers.”
Drake?
I couldn’t help the relieved smile. My harem angel Commander Drake was still alive. My guard and Rebel’s jailer, Drake had been gifted by his dad, the Mage, as Marked Wing to my mum. She’d shown me every version of twisted love on him, but he’d still helped us to escape. It’d been agony to leave him behind.
I’d mourned him because the Matriarch wasn’t the forgive and forget type, more the string up, torture, and then flay alive type. If Drake was leading his kid army, then he’d survived her punishment. And I couldn’t help the squirming inside at how much I’d missed him.
When Trick slunk towards me, Wild blocked him, playing the possessive husband.
Trick rolled his eyes. “You brighten at the name of our darkest enemy, princess. Are you naughtily still traitor? Loyal to the angel world that you shook from your sandals? And here I was mistakenly believing that you cared for humans…”
“Humans?”
Trick examined his nails. “Blood Lovers can be claimed from angels, vampires, mages, witches…or humans. The cowardly angels have launched their wicked attack against the Blood Lovers’ quarters. The Matriarch does love to sacrifice her pawns and she’s baiting you by attacking our weakest.”
I pushed myself up, glancing between the two vampires. I didn’t trust the bastards but I couldn’t leave humans unprotected. Rebel had always taught me as a huntress to save lives.
Yet could I fight against Drake and the kid army who I’d promised would always be my fam when I’d fought on their side?
Kill those I’d risked my life to save?
“New bargain,” I muttered.
“Wait,” Wild grabbed for my arm, but I smacked away his hand: no touchy feely for him. “You were just about to—”
&nbs
p; “Kick your arse? Sprout horns? Dance the fandango?” I bounced on the balls of my feet, as the ancient powers built within me. “The bargain’s this: I’ll fight to protect the Blood Lovers from the angelic horde, but only if you free the captive angels into my care.”
Trick glanced at the gray feather behind my ear. “Deals are precise. We’re not freeing every angel. So, which prisoners?”
“My fam. Free my blokes.”
“On my bones and blood, deal.” Trick touched the fanged necklace around his neck, and I copied him, touching the pouch with my sister’s crystal angel necklace instead. “Although, be aware that the king is the ultimate arbitrator: judge, jury and…you can whistle the rest. If he wishes to overturn our little bargain, his power is such—”
“He can juggle twelve virgins, whilst battling the angelic hordes with only his death glare and yodeling “Slap My Bitch Up”?”
“I’ll give you a right thrashing when this…crisis…is over for your dealings with my wench,” Wild barked at Trick.
Trick airily waved his hand. “Let us save the Blood Lovers first, or the king shall have all our wings. Now we have the Champion as mascot: our tamed beast.”
I swallowed, running my hand along Rebel’s welted chest, before dipping to kiss him on the cheek.
I’d bargained for his freedom and Harahel’s. Allied myself with the vampires against the angels for my family.
But freedom had a price.
I had to be the savage the Bone Carnival had trained but tamed under the FF’s leash.
I was going to war.
6
War had never tasted so candy sweet.
If I’d paid for freedom, then why shouldn’t I sample the wares?
Slam.
I shuddered, swept up in Rebel’s coppery sweetness. Then I swooped, crushing Rebel against the wall of the underground tunnel, shivering in the shadows.
The king’s cold lights showed us the route in ranks of flickering fireflies. The railway line and the tunnel walls stank of oil, but the only scent, as I’d flown towards the battle to save the Blood Lovers, that had called to me had been the slam of Rebel’s blood.
Slam.
I licked up Rebel’s neck, quivering at the sugar tingles, which zinged through me. I pushed his arms this way and that, running my fingers through his bent wing and his unbroken one, to see them arch and flex, move at last, freed from the mind control. Even if it was me holding him up, as if he was able to fully fly.
Like that hadn’t been stolen from him.
Joy, desire, and a pissed off tinge at being treated like a puppet…
Yeah, that was my Rebel.
I could feel him again, throbbing through my bond. I soared on the emotions erasing the bastard silence.
Slam.
Treacled passion slid down my throat.
I stroked my fingers over Rebel’s harness and scabbard with his sword — Eclipse — and his ripped black t-shirt, pressing my fingers against the punk safety pins, just to feel that he was real.
To hell with being alone.
When I pressed my hands lower towards his red bondage trousers, however, Rebel caught my hands between his. “Sweet Jesus, woman, would you take it easy? Trapped as I was in my own head, I heard every word, including how close you were to bonding with the git just to save my idiot self. Fair play to you, but a princess doesn’t sign away her life for a bad angel.”
I touched my lips to his: tender and chaste. “What about for fam?”
A polite — or not so polite — cough behind me.
I twirled: a pair of narrowed violet eyes sparked at me in the gloom.
I smirked at Mischief, as he flapped his wings, hovering in the middle of the tunnel: A Silver Fairy playing gooseberry.
My False Rebel didn’t like being a shadow to the real thing.
It’s called karma, bitch.
“When one bargains in the Under World,” Mischief lifted his head regally, “one should choose one’s words carefully, not like a troll with mashed turnip for brains. Free the captive angels? My blokes? As if my life was not enough of a nightmare, it appears that I am now yours because of a battle lost in the Cage and my gray feather worn in your hair.”
“And when one pisses off the Bitch of Utopia,” I flew closer to Mischief, tugging the straps of my armor tighter; Rebel dropped, holding himself just above the ground with his bad wing, “one gets turned into a unicorn sparkler.”
I couldn’t help remembering plucking the feather from Mischief’s wing, and the way that it’d rubbed silkily behind my ear. I’d tossed it away, whilst I’d prepared for battle and now, I missed it. What the hell was wrong with me?
Trick had warned that deals were precise… I should’ve listened. Now I had Mischief in my care, whilst Harahel remained in Misrule’s because according to vampire law, being made into a Blood Lover, whether forced or not, officially changed your family like marriage. Harahel belonged to Misrule, meaning that he hadn’t been covered in my bargain.
Lucky me, I received Mischief instead.
Violet flames danced on the tips of my fingers.
Mischief shrank back. “Get on with it. Then at least I won’t have to fight in this farce.”
I scrutinized Mischief. The bloke had some balls, even if his hands trembled. I trooped the sparks along the arms of his tunic and onto the strands of his hair.
I grinned; so that’s how to make a supernatural sparkle.
Mischief hissed, but the fire wasn’t burning him, only playfully tingling like static. Except, if I wanted to, it could…
Mischief didn’t move, however, because he was a smart bloke. I liked that. In fact, there was a lot about him that I liked, including the way that his eyes studied me with darkened outrage, but his cheeks were flushed and his hands clenched like he was only just stopping himself from reaching out to touch the fire out of curiosity rather than fear.
“I’ll make a note of it,” Mischief breathed, “just before we die battling…oh yes, our own side.”
“Screw that brand of pessimism,” I insisted. “We’re throwing ourselves into the meat grinder but we’ll kill the Bad Guys and save the damsels.”
“And which is which again?”
I flared the flames brighter, and he gasped. “Whichever I tell you.”
“Democracies: don’t you just love them?”
“Kings and queens don’t rule with a vote. I didn’t elect the Matriarch or the King of the Under World and I didn’t bastard ask to be made the princess of both worlds.” I laughed but I knew that it sounded manic.
How the hell could Mischief piss me off with only the poison of a softly spoken sentence? The bloke wielded words as a weapon but he shanked himself.
The flames leapt again, and Mischief keened.
Cool your juices, Violet-sweets, turn down the gas because the unicorn is all cooked.
If he provokes the beast, then he knows that he’s going to get mauled.
And the prize goes to the freaky girl in violet and black!
He knows…
The sly mage wants to have his pretty ass whipped. He’s jumping up and down on your buttons like it’s a party game.
I don’t figure him for a kinky angel, so why’s he tempting my inner sadist?
You own him, girl.
What would it prove if you burned him on your first day…?
That the Bone Princess can’t look after her pets, that’s what. Plus, our sweet Sugar Plum wouldn’t be able to fight…
Who’s he so afraid of seeing that he’d rather be roasted?
I clenched my fist, snuffing out the flames.
Mischief didn’t sag with relief, instead he glared at me. He truly was trying to get his arse whipped. Well, who was I to disappoint…?
Oomph — I slammed Mischief against the tunnel wall.
“I can’t wait to see my dad beside me at last.” Mischief’s pale chest tensed under my hands: direct hit. Why was he terrified of seeing the king? Weren’t they lovers?
“Unless he’s a coward like my mum and hides away in his Bone Palace.”
Mischief smacked away my hands. “If you want to be burned from the inside out over eons of agonized suffering, then you only had to ask. You do not, however, have to bring down the king on all our heads.”
“We’re in an underground tunnel, Mr Paranoid, how big are his ears?”
Mischief rolled his eyes, before pointing at the firefly lights. “Spies,” he whispered. “Our words are never free, nor are we.” I gaped at the lights, which guttered as if listening…or thinking…and caught my breath. “Be careful what you wish for,” Mischief’s words wound smooth and dangerous, as he leaned closer; his breath cooled the heat of my cheeks. “Because now you’ve gained a shadow. How sweet that you consider me fam.”
Rebel grabbed my arm, yanking me away from the inviting spell that was woven in the melody of Mischief’s voice.
I shook my head to clear it.
“Fam is earned,” Rebel bit out; his eyes flamed, even as he quivered from the strain of flying. “Wise up! You’re nothing more than the pain in the hole free gift.”
Mischief pouted, touching his hand to his chest as if his heart had been broken. “You wound me.”
“Not yet, git.” Rebel’s shoulders stiffened. “Give me time.”
I blinked, tumbling back to myself away from the safety of Mischief’s words, before flushing. “You bastard whammied me, spell lobber.”
Mischief smirked. “How did it feel? Divine?”
Crunch — Rebel smashed the heel of his palm into Mischief’s nose.
Mischief grunted, nonchalantly wiping away the blood. “Why should I expect better from an Addict?”
“Dry up.” Rebel’s wings flamed. “Should we expect anything better from a Brother of the Phoenix? Sweet Christ, did you think that I didn’t recognize your muppet arse, Zophia?”
I stared between them with my hands on my hips. “And why, McSecretPants,” Rebel blushed; his pink tongue swiped his lips, “didn’t you tell me that he’s a member of the Legion? A Mage’s boy?”
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