Rebel Academy: Crush

Chapter Twelve FOX

It was becoming a familiar feeling to start a lesson tied up next to a naked vampire. Since this was also Spells, Hexes, and Potions, the class held the added bonus that as the whipping boy, I'd become the test dummy for one of those three fun options

Wow, I just couldn't choose if I preferred that Midnight and I be used as the guinea pigs to try out the classes' potions or their dodgy spells. Let's just pretend that Hexes had been wiped from SHP because I didn't want to imagine the crucio level curses that Lysander would direct at my prickles.

Who said that a coven-run academy education had to suck for a mage?

Wait, everybody did...

I sighed, settling back into my chair, which was a tangle of vines that rubbed at my wrists and ankles. I gritted my teeth against the pain. The chair grew out of the roots, which burst from the floor and curled up and around the mossy walls. I scrunched my nose at the earthy scent. Ancient magic bloomed out of every spore; I choked on it. It was like Hecate and Bacchus were hand in hand to smack a mage.

Perhaps, sister witch and goddess played that as a fun game to bond over, bitch slapping male gods like Pan (and why did that get my fur fluffing up in his defense?), and holding slumber parties where they braided each other's hair.

Okay, I was erasing that braiding hair part forever from my mind because the image of Professor Bacchus and Hecate all cozy together and choosing matching glittery clips, set off my Mage Shivers.

Pan help me.

I clutched the arms of the vine chair more tightly, struggling to count back from hundred to calm myself. I'd done bondage in a lesson before and last time, I'd been swinging upside down.

Slugs and snails, I was even feeling grateful now not to be hanging from my ankles like a snared fox.

Yet Bacchus' classroom wasn't witchy like Juni's. It was more like a science lab that'd been grown inside a tree. Not that I'd ever been inside a lab before coming to this academy or inside a tree, unlike Magenta.

Look at that, Rebel Academy truly did offer new opportunities.

When I caught Magenta's furious whisper behind me, I struggled to listen...I mean, actively overhear her conversation with Sleipnir...okay, eavesdrop. But my chair was turned to face the back wall and Midnight. The vampire, who was also the Prince's whipping boy, was bound in the chair facing me. His gorgeous ash wings were also dragged behind him and bound down by vines.

Whiskers and claws, that looked painful.

Midnight was also naked. He offered me a lopsided smile with a hint of fang like calmly waiting to be used as a naked guinea pig was a typical Thursday for him.

I had a feeling that it was.

What if Damelza had handed me over to the Princes to be their whipping boy instead of the Immortals? Would I’ve ended up looking grateful to be sitting on a chair, rather than kneeling in the corner? I grimaced. Lysander's balls would soon discover what it felt like to have Mr Fierce roll his prickles over them.

I winced. Was there any way that I could make that sound unkinky?

Midnight was palely beautiful. His dark hair tumbled in waves to his waist, and I made a valiant effort not to look at Midnight's prick, even if his hair was like a waterfall leading to it, before it twitched hello.

I didn’t imagine that.

Midnight's smile widened. When he blinked his charcoal eyes with his sinfully long eyelashes, I flushed. Then I squirmed against the ropes again, banging my head back in frustration. If this class was about our ability to remain submissive in bondage or the Pretend to be a Chair game (so far it could go either way), then I was one dead fox because Midnight held himself as still as a statue.

Apart from his rebel prick.

Almost like it knew that it was betraying me, my foot tapped up and down on the floor.

Tap — tap — tap.

I'd been trapped in a single room from the moment that my mum had discovered I'd had magic. I couldn't take being ensnared again. Last time in class, I'd been able to see Magenta, but now I could only hear her whispers.

I needed to smell the sweet scent of her yew trees winding around me and not the earthy scent of Bacchus’ magic that suffocated me.

Magenta...

Tap — tap — tap.

I was desperate to call out to her. But what would she think of me if I panicked over something as simple as being tied down? Sleipnir was a bloody god, and Bask was brave and protective.

What was I?

A hedgehog with anger management issues? A cat with more funk than fight?

The Mage who Loved…

Tap — tap — tap.

My breaths became short and fast. Light-headed, I banged my head against the back of the chair again, yanking my ankles against the restraints. Bruises blossomed.

Then Midnight pushed his knees against mine, and my startled gaze shot to his. "I promised to hold on for you, my king," his voice was gentle with a Welsh lilt, "and so you must hold on for me."

Truth: If he's forgotten his promise to me, then I'm worth nothing.

With my Power of Confess, the truth of Midnight’s despair hit me in a sticky black wave. I shook with its intensity. I could never allow him to think that I wouldn't help him or my own Magenta shaped meltdown meant that he was worthless.

I'd spent too many years thinking the same.

My breath steadied, and my expression became steely. I bumped my knuckles against Midnight’s because if I couldn't kiss away the crease of concern between his brows, then I could at least soothe him through my wriggling fingers. "Hey, my Memory Palace is better than Sherlock Holmes’; it even has a jacuzzi, private cinema, and an entire wing for my harem of Tinker Bell impersonators." I bit my lip. "Ehm, just don't tell Magenta about the harem bit."

Midnight nodded, solemnly. "By my fangs, I'll keep your secret."

"And I'll keep my oath." I lowered my voice, willing Midnight to believe me. He belonged to the Princes. Theoretically, he was a rival. But then, how many theories had been disproved? I could smugly declare that I didn’t believe in the crazy theories of being able to write on the moon in blood or that my sexual mojo controlled the universe (although, I wished that it did). Yet today, I'd have to battle against Midnight to win this class and the Rebel Cup. If I did, then my life would be saved, but Midnight's wings would be broken. I shuddered at the thought of a single feather being harmed. "Magenta's brilliant. She has a plan to free us all. But I don’t know how long it will take. Can you put some more faith in me? I swear on my prickles that I'm working on saving you."

Midnight ducked his head, and a blush spread across his cheeks. "You don't need to swear on your prickles, see. We're already bound to each other, and I trust you and my future queen."

Wow, he truly meant that he saw Magenta and me as his king and queen.

It came of being a pathological liar, but I'd pretended to be royalty more times than I had rooms in my Memory Palace, and no one had ever believed it before. On the other hand, Midnight had chosen me for the role, and that made a grin spread across my face that was as warm as the feeling in my chest.

Until two heavy hands landed in my lap, dangerously close to my balls, and I yelped, as their nails dug into the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs.

"Why would you trust a mage, especially one with all that curly hair?" Pocus, Bacchus' Halfling and familiar, hissed.

I shivered at Pocus’ predatory danger, which was hidden under the softness of his voice. Also, at the insult to my hair. After so many years without the ability to look in a mirror, I was suddenly desperate to run my fingers through my curls. What was wrong with them? Bask insisted that they were pettable.

Pocus rose up on his knees, shoving his face close to mine. He scrutinized me like I was Midnight's new boyfriend and I had to pass the test before I could take him out. Pocus was a lithe Korean vampire with striking black eyes and equally black ears that poked out of his mop of hair.

He was also naked and way too close.

"How long did you spend grooming your hair today?" I raised my eyebrow, and Pocus’ tail swished furiously in response. "Why should I trust a cat that looks like K-pop is missing its greatest star? Wait, I saw you perform on TV. Aren't you the cute new member of BTS?"

Pocus' eyes flashed, and his claws extended. I shivered with claw envy.

When he lowered his claws towards my crotch, I tried to shrink back. I knew now why I hated being tied down: you couldn't protect your prick from Halfling attack. I should add the policy to health and safety.

"Don't hurt my king." Midnight's voice was hard. "It's not worthy to attack someone who can't fight back."

"What he said," I mumbled.

Pouting, Pocus retracted his claws. Then he rested his head on Midnight's lap, rubbing his ears against his thigh, before offering a single lick across the head of his prick as if in apology.

Hey, it'd been my prick that he'd been threatening to slash.

"I'm guarding you." Pocus nuzzled closer.

I'd only been allowed to see my dad, cousin, and family werewolf in my confinement. But none of them had been able to guard me. In fact, we'd all been surviving in our own ways together. I was happy that Midnight had found another vampire in the academy, who'd been able to become a friend and protector, even if he was a psychopathic cat.

As a fellow cat, I resented his feline villainy. I was classifying him as my pussy nemesis.

I couldn't help the grin. I'd never had an animal nemesis before. I'd been missing out.

Midnight's expression softened. "You don't threaten my friends. You wouldn't claw Om just because he's got curly hair, would you?"

I perked up. I'd been wondering about the werewolf, since I'd seen him on my first night in the academy, caged in wolf form beside Hecate's altar in the courtyard. He'd been lonely, and I'd sworn to free him, just like I had Midnight. Plus, the pretty white Omega werewolf had curly blond hair in human form like me.

Now all the cool boys would want it.

I preened, and Midnight's eyes danced with an unexpected fondness.

Pocus blinked up at Midnight, wriggling his ass guiltily. "Om's our friend, and he has silky hair."

"Try out the mage’s," Midnight offered like this was one of Aquilo's sister's swingers parties, and I was being offered around as a favor.

"No freebies," I yelped.

Things had become officially weird...okay, weirder...okay, kind of nice. I melted, as Pocus carded his fingers experimentally through my hair.

Pocus cocked his head, sitting back on his heels. "Silky but not as silky as Om's."

Bastard pussy nemesis.

"Whatever. It’s not like I haven’t won the Silkiest Hair ribbon for the last two years anyway. I normally wear pigtails to show them off, but with it being Torment Thursday, I wanted to give off more of a warrior vibe." I attempted to shrug but then remembered that I was tied down. I pretended that I was simply rolling my shoulders. I pulled it off. "Anyway, I'm known as the Wolf Lover, which is kind of like the Wolf Charmer, only it means that all wolves love me. Your Om will become my friend by magical charisma. It's fated."

Pocus' eyes narrowed. "Do all mages talk bullshit?"

"Only the best ones." I tilted my chin. "Plus, Puss in...Nothing At All...I wasn't lying about loving wolves. My best mate was a werewolf."

Pocus stuck his nose in the air. "Pocus doesn't believe you. Oms are particular about their packs."

Before Magic, when I'd yet to experience the Kitten Incident, when my transformation into a Birman had led to my banishment, the family werewolf had raised me as much as mum. Most witch families collared at least one Omega to use as a slave. You were only meant to call them Omega (or Om) because in their culture as much as our witch one, they didn't deserve a name. Except, Glow had once told me that he had a twin, at least until they'd been separated and he'd become owned by the House of Jewels. His brother had been brave enough to name them.

I'd always thought that his brother must've been braver than me.

Once as a kid, when I’d been shaken by mum and then sent to the corner for running inside like I hadn’t even been trained in suitable male behavior, the Om had slunk to sit behind me, whispering to distract me from my disgrace. He’d told me the story of his twin, even trusting me by telling me his secret name: Glow.

There were many treasures in the House of Jewels (mum had worn so many blue diamonds every day that she'd glittered like a magpie's wet dream), but Glow's name was priceless.

He didn't possess anything else, and no secret had ever been worth more.

To repay Glow, I'd helped him...okay, lied...to save him from whippings. I’d found that I had a talent at being inventive with the truth, but also, that lies were safer than the truth. When Glow had found out, however, he'd pulled me into my bedroom and closed the door.

"You're only a cub." Glow’s soft Scottish voice had washed over me, calming me. He’d hugged me in a way that no one else, even dad, ever had. It was like he’d needed the gentle touch as much as me. "You don't risk yourself for a wolf. What kind of big brother would I be, if I didn't protect you?"

My breath had hitched.

Big brother?

Glow’s eyes had widened at his own daring. A werewolf who saw themselves as part of a witch's family and not a savage beast could be flayed. And that wasn't metaphorical. After all, I had a white wolf fur rug across my bed.

Glow had drawn back like he’d expected me to reject him, but I'd only wound my arms more tightly around his neck.

I’d never wanted to let go; he was my safety.

Yet after that, Glow had helped...lied...for me. Except, when he was found guilty in my place of breaking a vase or being at fault for my lateness, he wasn't put into the corner but whipped.

I'd beg Glow to stop taking the blame, but he'd only smile and pat me on the head.

"Wee brother," Glow would say, "you're pack. You’ll understand one day."

I understood now.

"My king is pack too," Midnight said with a certainty that made my heart beat faster. "He's a fellow whipping boy. We must look out for each other."

"Pfft, don't worry about it. He's just checking out the new boyfriend." I smirked, as Pocus' ears flattened to his head. "How about we all get to know each other? Like, are you a cat or a dog person?"

What was I turning this into, Interview with the Vampire?

Midnight's laugh was delighted and surprised even him. I wished to kiss the joy from the corners of his lips and down his throat. Then make him laugh again, as I sucked every one of his feathers.

"He's a cat person," Pocus hissed.

Truth: I will find you alone and make a pincushion of your balls.

I paled, before clearing my throat. "Okay, how about: What was the best kiss you ever had?"

Midnight's tongue darted to wet his lips, before his eyes became hooded. "I was hanging upside down, see, next to this mage. Then he kissed me, and it was like for the first time in centuries, the darkness lifted, and I could breathe again."

My own breath stopped.

Heat flooded me, and my cheeks pinked. I could feel Midnight in that moment again in Juni’s classroom, as cool as moonlight. His lips pressed to mine, and his soft wings wrapped around me.

I needed to touch him.

I brushed the tips of my fingers against Midnight’s. "Wow, the mage was that good…?"

Midnight's longing gaze met mine.

All of a sudden, my chair was yanked backwards and twisted around. Disorientated, I gasped.

Then I had a lapful of incubus.

Bask straddled me, pushing his crotch against mine. I wasn’t sending back the lapful of incubus, even if I didn’t remember ordering it, nor the way that Magenta’s arms wound around my neck from behind, and her head rested on my shoulder. The scent of the wild woods blew away the trapped earthy stench of Bacchus’ classroom, and I could breathe again.

Magenta pressed a kiss to the fluttering pulse in my neck. “We need you to settle an argument.”

“You know, I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.”

Now I truly wished that I’d been able to brush my hair for the occasion.

“Pocus is not surprised.” The Halfling flounced back to his corner, swishing his tail.

His attempt at the haughty exit, however, was ruined by the way that his balls swung on each flounce of his hips.

I tore my gaze away from Pocus with difficulty, studying Sleipnir, instead. Sleipnir strolled to slouch against the wall with a pretend indolence that wasn’t tricking me, since his hair was spiked to red and Mist snorted flickering smoke from his pocket.

They’d been arguing about something, and now I was the idiot caught in the middle…literally…while bound to a chair. I had an overwhelming urge to transform into Mr Fierce and roll into a ball.

I coughed, nervously. “Lay it on me. After all, I’m known as King Solomon, the Wise.”

Bask snickered.

Magenta’s hot breath gusted against my neck, and I shivered. “I’m certain that we’re lucky to have such a wise man as our lover. So, please help in our lively debate. I believe that we should forgive Willoughby for his actions within the gym and love him. I made it more than clear that no one would be allowed to hurt him.” Okay, there was her wicked voice; my prick took a healthy interest. “He’s dangerous, I’ll admit. But so are all of us.”

“Now I have the floor.” Sleipnir’s eyes flashed with protectiveness. “I’m a monster, and in the gym, I recognized another. It doesn’t matter whether we could love Willoughby. I don’t want him to dirty Magenta. If we take the killer elf, we’re wrecking him, the same as the fae.”

“So, I may be King Solomon but since I wasn’t allowed in Warrior Dueling, why do I get the sense that I missed something important?” I demanded.

“The elf hurt Magenta,” Bask explained.

Bask wriggled his ass against me like he could win the argument by his slinkiness alone.

“You won’t convince me by the power of your ass. But you will give me an embarrassing hard-on just before the professor arrives.”

Bask shot me a sly smile and wriggled again.

I groaned.

Was this the incubus form of ass torture? Although, I had a feeling that was a whole different kind of thing. Whatever it was, it was working.

“Away with you, the power of my arse could convince you into anything.” When Bask’s eyes glittered ruby, I gasped. He wasn’t wrong. “Don’t you desire the Princes — both of them — wrecked but not in the bad way, only all the best ways? I want to love them, Fox, but they’re not like you.”

My throat was suddenly too thick to speak.

What was I like? Virginal? Ignorant? Needy?

Panicked, I reddened because the memory of meeting Bask in the courtyard and the easy way that both Magenta as a ghost and he had kissed me (which had been my first ever kisses), and I’d melted into their love were the best of my life.

But what if I’d made a fool of myself? What was wrong with me?

Bask pressed his lips hurriedly to mine as if in apology. “You’re perfect. But the thing of it is that they need to be…”

“Awakened,” Magenta added, quietly.

Bask’s eyes brightened. “The Stop Game!” He reached across to poke Midnight’s chest. “Tell the Princes that we’re challenging them to a game tonight. If they refuse, then…”

“We’ll inform Damelza about their dumb plan to prank their tutor,” Sleipnir drawled. “I honestly can’t wait to find out what Juni does when she hears about their plans to melt her with a bucket of water above their bedroom door.”

Midnight drew in a shocked intake of breath. “You’d lie!”

Sleipnir shrugged. “Hello, I’m the son of Loki, god of mischief and mayhem.”

And Sleipnir called me a hardass.

Bask stroked one hand along Midnight’s tense shoulder. “Trust my slinky ass, it’s fun. Stop Game will bring out their hidden desires. Let us please them. I played it all the time in the incubi harem. Well, the other bonded did.”

I eyed Bask. “I’m filled with excitement to play it now.”

“Of course you are.”

Okay, that was a fail on my sarcasm.

“Sweet Pan, how about we stop all the talk of wrecking?” I pointed my chin at Sleipnir. “You’re all bristled up like a hedgehog impersonation,” Sleipnir flushed, “but you’d never follow through with it. Since I arrived, you’ve done nothing but help, comfort, and protect. Even Bask has attacked the Princes more than you.”

Bask puffed up his chest. “Fear the mighty incubus.”

I gentled my expression. “Of course, if Willoughby hurt Magenta, then how about I boot him in the balls? See, I’m the master of wise compromise. Just as soon as I can move my feet…”

Magenta’s arms tightened around my neck. “Was I unclear about the not hurting the Prince?”

“Just a little kick…?” I hazarded.

This was the problem with whipping boys being banned from lessons. It led to inequalities like not knowing whose bollocks to boot.

“You won’t damage my Princes,” Midnight’s voice was steely.

I twisted to look at him. Whoops. Why was he so loyal to Princes who forced him to crawl across snow or kneel for hours like a piece of school equipment?

Magenta met his gaze levelly. “I promise, we’re only trying to help everybody.”

Midnight ducked his head, and his despair blasted through my Confess in a sheet of black.

Truth: I no longer believe in promises.

“Hey,” I called to Midnight, who looked up, “do you still believe in oaths?”

To my surprise, he perked up with a shy nod.

I smiled back. “Then I, the great shimage of the House of Jewels, give you my oath—”

“Careful,” Magenta hissed.

I’d spent too many years being careful.

“…my oath to try to save even the dickish Princes of Rebel Academy, as well as you.” I raised my eyebrow. “Will that do, my knight?”

Midnight’s breath caught on my knight. I really should’ve learned more about vampire culture. Was that sort of like exchanging pet names or more like marriage vows?

Could I help the way that my heart leaped at the marriage vows?

“Thank you for bestowing your wisdom upon us.” Magenta feathered kisses down my neck.

Bask ground his ass against me like he was a snake and I was his prey. His version of thanking me would’ve been epic, if I hadn’t been trying to will down the hard-on tenting my pants.

I’d be bestowing more than wisdom upon him in a minute.

Prick, ignore the delicious incubus bouncing up and down on top of you…and the gorgeous witch…we will not be broken… At ease, prick, that’s an order!

Sleipnir crossed his arms. “My brother, Fenrir, says that if you compare him to a hedgehog again, he’ll put you over his knee.”

I flushed, and my pupils dilated.

“Call him Sonic, I dare you.” Bask brushed the back of his hand across my cheek.

Sleipnir’s eyes danced with mischief.

Sleipnir wasn’t my family, and this wasn’t the attic. He’d never whip me. I was safe.

Plus, I was tied to a chair. Good luck Sleipnir getting to my ass.

I balled my hands “Son—”

Sleipnir’s growl was cut off at the deep rumble that shook the room. There was the sudden aroma of mulled wine. I battled the panic that made my throat tighten, until I could only drag in quick, too rapid breaths.

Bound, I couldn’t even crouch under the lab tables like my feline side craved to. Next to me, Midnight stilled.

Out of the wall, branches of purple ivy coiled like sinuous vines to tangle into the outline of Bacchus. Then she stepped forward, and the vines formed fully into the shape of the Immortals’ Tutor of the East Wing, who was also the most brilliant American witch, who’d been hired by the academy to teach Spells, Hexes, and Potions.

I was at the professor’s mercy for the lesson, and as she strode towards me, her eyes flashed with fury.