Sleipnir became ashen. “Don’t talk about my dad.”
Ambrose huffed with laugher; it blew across Sleipnir’s cheeks like dragon mist. “Aye, right because he’ll appear any moment and spank me. Oh, wait, he won’t because he’s abandoned you.” Bask hissed in fury at the same time as me. Ambrose glanced around at all of us; the moonlight shone on his fangs. “Recapture Marcus or you’ll be punished. Then this term, you’ll have more to fear than the Princes. You’ll discover why the fae are the cruelest warriors.” His eyes flashed dangerously. “If you make me your enemy, I swear that it’s a battle I shall win.”
Truth: You’re leaving me no choice. Obey me or suffer.
When Marcus roared above us, swooping towards the stables, Ambrose didn’t even flinch. My nose twitched, however, and I curled into a ball. Rebel Ghost’s cool breeze cocooned around me.
What kind of ever-witching choice was that for a hedgehog?
I either captured an enraged dragon or turned my fae professor into an enemy who’d make it his mission over the next term to see me suffer.
As a fox shifter trapped in an attic for over a decade, I’d dreamed of hunting many things: crows, reality show contestants, and Jiminy Cricket. But even I hadn’t been able to trick myself that I’d get the chance to stalk a dragon.
Rebel Academy — offering new hunting opportunities since 1870.
I’d have to drop that in the Suggestion Box for Damelza. Maybe she’d give me a gold star.
I lowered my head in my Arctic fox form, slinking through the snow around the stables. My cream coat camouflaged me. I hesitated in the stables’ shadows. My eyes stung in the smoky mists.
For the first time, my powers were a strength. I’d only just arrived in the academy, but it was my magic that would help recapture a dragon and save my friends from the professor. I wasn’t simply the mage who didn’t deserve to live in a witch’s House (and embarrassed myself all over the floorboards because Mr Fierce was a pooping rebel), I was the fox whose fur fitted with these wintry grounds like I’d always meant to be sent here.
I usually knew if I was tricking myself with a lie but somehow, that felt deep in my bones like the truth.
Was it because of Rebel Ghost who hadn’t left my side from the moment that I’d shifted? Her icy fingers brushed my tail, and I shivered at its sensitivity. I was certain that the gust of air across my fluffy ear was a chuckle. In fox form, everything was heightened: my sight, hearing, smell, and touch.
It should’ve felt like an assault, but instead, it was like coming alive.
I eyed a snowbank. Hartley and I had built snowmen and laughed, whilst chasing each other through the formal gardens behind our mansion in the final winter BM. We’d checked that mum had been out visiting the House of Seasons first, which was the coven in charge of Oxford. Otherwise, Hartley would’ve been chided for setting a bad example:
How will your brother ever find a good wife, if you don’t show him his place?
Was being a mage truly worse than becoming some rich witch’s trophy husband?
I wriggled my ass, desperate to jump in the snow and play. But Sleipnir had chosen me for this mission to sneak closer to Marcus, and no one had ever picked me because of my talents before. Except, my power of Confess sucked because I knew Sleipnir was lying that he wished to recapture Marcus.
Had he broken the collar?
Sleipnir’s lie had blasted me with The Animal’s haunting “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”, which had made me shiver. Sleipnir was one complex, troubled, and way too hot to be fair god. I figured that he schemed as much as I lied and Bask desired sexy times. The problem with Confess was that it didn’t explain the why behind the lie.
Sometimes a lie was kinder than a truth, and a liar was braver than an honest man…or woman. On the other hand, sometimes lies were cowardly, cruel, or cunning.
Which type was Sleipnir’s?
My ears flicked around as Marcus circled overhead again. Why hadn’t he flown away and escaped? Why would he risk remaining so close to his prison? I’d have been halfway to my mountain cave, treasure hoard, Pokémon trainer…or however it worked. Dad had been sketchy on that part.
Air whooshed against my fur. I flattened myself to the ground and then risked peeking up.
Marcus was like a streak of sun flying across the moon. His smooth skin was golden, and his long neck and tail were sinuous, as he coiled above me. Yellow magic fluttered out of his bat-like wings, as if he was wearing a decadent outfit. He was more ethereal than the fae prince.
He was nothing like the monster that I’d always imagined dragons to be.
How could I hunt another shifter, when inside he was the same as me? I mean, I could be a prick, but I wasn’t a dick. And that there was an important distinction.
I whined, lowering my ears, before I stepped out of the shadows and padded through the snow in front of the stables and under the dragon, no longer attempting to hide from him.
If a dragon shifter didn’t deserve to be imprisoned, then did that mean that I didn’t deserve to be either?
Truth: I’d never deserved to be shut away.
I whimpered as that truth ripped through me, tearing down the lies, which I’d built to protect myself. I didn’t need them now. I could be my true self, and I would be free.
Behind me, I could hear the other Immortals and the professor wildly hollering.
I quivered, as my heart pounded in my chest. I whimpered, glancing up from underneath my eyelashes at Marcus. He’d flown lower, and his molten gold gaze fixed on mine. Then Marcus’ magic whipped out: furious rays of the sun that were heading directly for me. I crouched in the snow. Any moment, Mr Fierce wouldn’t be the only one to embarrass himself with an accident.
I covered my head with my paws, as fire streaked from Marcus’ jaws, and his magic prickled across me.
Closer, closer, and…
Suddenly, I was lifted by the scruff of my neck. I yelped, as I found myself staring into the golden gaze of the dragon transformed into man. He was just as beautiful as he’d been in his dragon form.
Wait, did that mean that I was…let’s settle on as handsome because I wouldn’t admit to adorable unless sugary treats changed hands…as I was as a fox?
In a spray of blue glitter, I transformed back into a mage. Marcus was still holding me by the neck, but his lips twitched as if trying not to smile.
Marcus’ hair hung in soft blond waves to his waist, but his stance was that of a warrior. His cheekbones were high and sharp, and his yellow jacket and trousers, which were embroidered with orchids, were cut like a military uniform.
“Nice moves.” Should I tag on a sir, master, or maybe a bow…? I shrugged: screw that. “I’m scoring you full marks. Now, how about you fly away home, before you’re collared again?”
I darted an anxious glance over Marcus’ shoulder at Ambrose who was sprinting towards Marcus and me. Ambrose’s wings beat in frustration at being unable to take flight. My breath caught, and I clutched Marcus’ shoulders, trying to urge him back into the air.
Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “Are you not a spy, little fox?” He asked in a deep, rich voice.
I froze. “Why would the King of the Fox People be a spy?”
So, who doesn’t exaggerate on their resume…?
Marcus snorted. “Uh-huh. Well, Your Majesty,” (I shivered: I could get used to hearing that), “I happen to be an archduke.” My shoulders slumped. Why hadn’t I gone big on the lie and made myself Emperor of the Fox Universe? “And my dear brothers are still collared in the stables.” He let go of my neck to stroke his fingers through my hair. I hated the anguished expression in his eyes. “It’s simply that I belong to Prince Lysander, and I fear being ridden by him again. The Princes believe in nothing but subduing and conquering. They don’t understand shifters. This academy holds the most terrifying of secrets. But if I leave my brothers behind, it’ll be dishonorable—”
“Wouldn’t your brothers want you to be safe?” I w
hispered.
It’d been all I’d ever wished for Glow. I hoped that it was how he felt about me being sent away from the House of Jewels and leaving him by himself. And I knew that, despite the fact that he’d died, dad had given everything to keep me safe because he hadn’t been able to protect my brother.
Marcus scrutinized me in a way that made me squirm. “I wish that I saw the truth as clearly as you.”
“Believe me, you don’t,” I muttered.
Ambrose was just the other side of the snowbank now. When he slipped the leather whip from around his waist, I gasped.
All of a sudden, Marcus clasped me to his chest. He was hot, despite the cold, and his magic coiled around me like he was cocooning me in the sun.
“I’ll take warning to my people,” his grip was harsh in my hair, as if he never wanted to let go, “but you shouldn’t be trapped here either, King of the Foxes. Let me free you as well.”
I flushed. “I’m sort of collared myself. I was branded by this dancing Hecate, which means that I can’t escape the wards.”
When Marcus drew back, I was shocked by the gleam of tears in his golden eyes.
Nobody had ever cried for me before. Not even dad. Glow and I had cried for each other, but that wasn’t the same thing.
Marcus smiled, tracing down my cheek. “It’s kind of you to urge me to go, when you shall be the one to pay for it.”
So, he hadn’t been conned by my royal ploy…
I shrugged. “Someone did the same for me.” My throat was thick with tears; I struggled to swallow. “Drive safe.”
Marcus huffed with laughter. “You’re a funny little fox. But I like you.”
Then he kissed the corner of my mouth, before darting into the dark. Ambrose bellowed at him, but Marcus shifted into his dragon form, beating his wings and winding towards the stars and away, over the ancient woods.
My eyes blurred with tears, but I’d never thrilled with such joy, until Ambrose cracked his whip into the snow at my feet. I jumped, wrapping my arms around my middle. Ambrose panted, out of breath from his dash to catch Marcus.
Bask and Sleipnir were still sauntering after him. Had Sleipnir plotted Marcus’ escape? Why had he wanted me to be the one to witness it?
Ambrose stalked towards me, raising my chin with the butt of his whip. The hardness of his emerald gaze made me realize just how gentle Marcus’ had been.
If the Seelie were so tough, maybe the Princes should be saddling them up and riding their asses…?
“You let him go,” Ambrose hissed.
I licked my dry lips. “I lost him. Dragon beats fox. Sorry.”
Ambrose eased back, glancing between me and the other two Immortals. “You’re not yet. But you will be tomorrow morning.”
When I flinched, Bask dived for me, slinging his arms around my shoulders and fussing, whilst he checked me for injuries. Sleipnir stood between Ambrose and me, crossing his arms like he was my bodyguard — and I wasn’t the whipping boy.
Yet it didn’t matter how much they pretended that they could protect me because that was just another lie. In Rebel Academy, I sensed the truth that the professors held the power, and even though Prince Ambrose was male and an ex-Rebel, he was still a professor.
In my first morning in the academy, what punishment would I suffer?
Chapter Eight
Rebel Academy, Sunday September 1st
Sleipnir
When you were the son of Loki, you had a duty to create the chaos moment. I’d spent my life by my dad’s side being hunted, and yet he’d still taught me that freedom was worth every sacrifice.
It sucked that my fellow Rebels, however, would be punished alongside me because I’d broken Marcus’ collar.
I was indeed the awesome warrior who’d freed the dragon. Omens and runes, I swore I’d find a way to free all of us who were trapped in this dick academy.
Who did they think they were, taking a god hostage…? Oh yeah, the most powerful witches alive…
When Damelza’s crow cawed and battered at the bedroom window in the West Wing, I awoke with a start at the punishment time of 5 a.m., after only a couple of hours sleep. It was still dark, and I winced at the House of Crows’ feathery alarm clock.
Bask’s arms were slung around the new whipping boy’s neck. They both wore pink and black striped silk pajamas like me, which had ridden up revealing pale glimpses of skin. Black hair mingled with white blond. I missed the way that Bask normally hugged me, searching out touch, as his sweet breath would gust across my neck, until I’d shiver.
I sprawled across the bed, pretending to sleep, even though I was cold with the sheets pulled off me. I slyly watched Bask and Fox wake up in each other’s arms as naturally as if they were family. I didn’t understand Bask’s easy offers of friendship and love like it was no different to choosing whether to press his hand to Fox’s cheek.
I didn’t need friends, but I couldn’t survive here without allies. Weirdly, I knew that I’d die for Bask, but was that love?
I’d never had a friend before, so how would I know?
When something soft tickled my cheek, I turned my head and realized that in the night I’d ended up snuggling on top of Bask’s crocodile plushie, whose reptilian eyes now stared predatory into mine. I stifled my grin; I might’ve been hunted all my life, but that’d honed me into one badass hunter.
I watched the way in which Fox stiffened like he suspected we’d kick him out of bed. Did he believe that we’d treat him as a true whipping boy? On fear of the Valkyries, I’d never hurt anyone under my protection, unless it was Bacchus and even then, I’d kick her ass in a fair fight.
I wished that Bacchus would take the cursed charms off my powers that dampened them, but fair fight was as much a banned phrase here as Loki Rules.
That’s why I’d pissed Loki Rules into the snow last term. My dick had almost frozen off, as I’d carefully looped each letter, but some sacrifices were worth it.
Last night, I’d watched amused, as Fox had built a wall of pillows between himself and us. Fox had ducked his head, struggling to ignore Bask’s pout. Yet at some point during the night, Bask had shoved the pillows onto the floor and snuggled into Fox’s side to spoon him.
This morning, Fox stroked Bask’s cheek. Bask’s almond scent wrapped around me. Then Bask’s eyes fluttered open, and his gaze settled on Fox. When Bask smiled softly, my breath hitched. I’d never seen him smile at anyone but me like that before, even Hector before he’d…died.
I clenched my fists but forced myself not to move.
Valhalla! For his part in Hector’s death last term, the fae prince would suffer torments worse than any… Okay, let’s just say that Prince Lysander was an asshole, and I was going to wreck him.
“Welcome to the Rebel Academy.” Bask’s hand tightened around the back of Fox’s neck. “Here’s the thing of it, you’re ours now. You belong here. And I want to wake up every morning like this.”
Bask hovered his lips over Fox’s. The whipping boy shook like he’d never been desired before.
I’d bet that he hadn’t.
“Pet me,” Bask demanded.
Huh, it appeared Bask needed feeding before the Discipline Run. Most incubi were fed by taking orders. If he was in the mood, Bask loved it when I became all commanding, but he was considered broken because he could feed on giving orders as well.
In his culture, being different truly was a crime.
Fox snorted. “Don’t worry, gorgeous, you’re in the hands of a professional. I won the Mage’s Pet an Incubus in a Wet T-shirt contest three years running.”
He cracked his knuckles, and Bask snickered.
I forced myself to remain still with a self-control that would’ve made Loki proud. Even my tattoos faded without a growl. My hair this morning was aquamarine like my eyes, and my lip was pierced.
I always liked it best this way. I loved my brothers (hey, you couldn’t get closer than being born a triplet), but when they appeared magically wi
thin me, their personalities flooded through with such dominance in their shifter identities that I wasn’t myself.
I was always a monster though.
Why did I have to be a monster…?
My nails bit crescent shaped moons into my palms, as I forced myself not to break and dirty the picture of love in front of me.
How could I resist it?
Dragons and dwarfs, I’d brought down punishment on them. I didn’t deserve their comfort.
Fox crawled over Bask, caging him between his arms. Bask’s eyes glittered, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. Fox trailed his fingers up and down Bask’s ribs, bunching the silk of his top and revealing his taut stomach and the light trail of hair down to where his pants were slipping off his hips. Fox pressed harder with his fingers, until Bask squirmed. His breath started to hitch, and Fox’s sped up.
To my surprise, Fox launched a tickle attack on Bask, and he giggled, thrashing underneath him. Then Bask accidentally caught my balls with a flailing kick.
Odin’s cock…
I hissed, rolling onto my side and cradling my poor balls. My eyes shot wide open like I’d drunk a triple espresso. That was one way to put an end to my playing Sleeping Beauty.
Nile’s toothy mouth appeared to be laughing.
Asshole.
My gaze darted between Bask and Fox, who glanced back sheepishly. “Would you call down Ragnarök with your flirting? Screw, suck each other off, or get up because this Liberator of Dragons has earned us a Discipline Run.”
When I dragged Fox into the grounds, as Bask bounced around like a hyperactive bunny (hyped on the yummy combination of pleasing Fox and pleasing himself), I broke yet another rule by bundling him into my coat again. Whipping boys were forbidden from wearing anything more than their uniform of black shirt and trousers with an embroidered letter of their patron: I.
I wrinkled my nose. It was kind of like a mark of ownership. Only, Fox was a human mage, and as much as the sexy image of licking him like a Popsicle made me flush, I wasn’t letting him freeze on his first day under my protection.
Rebel Academy: Crave: A Paranormal Academy Romance Series (Wickedly Charmed Book 1) Page 10