Rebel Academy: Crush

Chapter Fifteen BASK

I slid my fingers through my hair.

Shiny hair...? Check.

I wriggled my arse on the rough wooden beam.

Pettable arse...? Check.

Then I glanced across at Fox who shyly met my smile.

Adorable mage who wasn't going to die tomorrow...? Check.

Joy burst through me that was no pain and all delicious pleasure. We'd won the Rebel Cup. It didn't matter that the Duchess would claim me after the Dragon Polo Tournament.

The adorable whipping boy who I'd promised to love and protect was safe. He wouldn't be another Hector.

My chest was tight, as I fluttered my eyelashes at Fox across the small room, which was veiled in cobwebs and tingled with ancient magic. Then I sneezed (in a sexy way, of course), on the dust. The chamber was the highest point of the castle with a low arched ceiling and no windows. It was lit only by Magenta's magic that had curled out like the sparkling branches of a tree to tangle over the beams, along with her aroma of the wild woods.

Magenta called it her Dreaming Space.

To an incubus, it was romantic. Away with you, I could do romantic better than Sleipnir's attempt, even if he was kissing down Magenta's neck with the devotion of a worshiper.

He’d worshiped my dick like that (who wouldn’t?). Magenta was in for a treat, as soon as he kissed between her thighs. The godly things that he could do with his tongue…

I sighed dreamily. Then I crooked my finger at Fox.

Fox rolled his eyes but crawled across the crumbling beams. I gasped, as he gripped my slinky self by the hips, yanking me onto his lap. His scent of raspberries was so sweet that I wanted to lick all over his pale skin.

Yet if he wanted to take his turn at romance and worship with petting tribute, then it was against the most fundamental Night Incubi Code for me to refuse. Plus, my hard-on was twitching happily. My dick and balls had been through some brutally traumatic experiences in the last few days. They deserved a wee bit of stress relief.

I melted against Fox, as he stroked circles against my inner thigh, clasping me around my waist like he was frightened that I'd be stolen from him if he let go.

I knew how he felt; I was possessive like that with Nile. It was this whole thing. But then, I was enthralling (of course, snicker).

Yet I couldn't slip my own gloved hand down Fox’s pants like I was aching to and return the favor (incubi are generous lovers), because any moment the Princes would arrive for the Stop Game.

Why had I suggested it again?

Here's the thing, I'd planned the Stop Game to bring out the Princes’ hidden secrets and desires. At first, I'd thought that I wanted to...not wreck...but break open Lysander and Willoughby. It was the quickest way that I knew to crack through their haughty princely selves because you couldn't keep up your mask during the game.

If Willoughby truly loved Magenta, then it'd bring him over to our side.

At the Succubus Court, the bonded had played it as a hidden way to love each other, when that was forbidden. It'd also had a darker side, however, because it'd been used as an extreme hazing of new harem members. I shuddered at the memory of being the youngest and terrified on my first night. I'd been blindfolded and told the consequences if I forfeited by saying stop during the Stop Game...

Stop. Stop. Stop.

I shivered but raised my chin. I'd faced down a pissed off Duchess. I wasn't broken anymore. My slinky self knew how to play the game now because I was the one in charge.

Rule 46 of the Incubi Night Code stated: You can never have too much power or too much hair product.

Have you ever seen a king without well-groomed hair?

Only, that was the world, which ma taught me. It was one of intrigue and scheming. I didn't know if I wanted power over the cute elf but I did want to love him.

But power over Lysander sounded brilliant.

Sleipnir paused in his kissing to rub his finger over two initials that'd been carved looping around each other into the wood:

"MR who?" Sleipnir asked.

"Is that a new kids’ book?" When Fox cocked his head, his curls fell across his eyes. "Mr. Who and his Tardis, like Mr. Rude or Mr. Nosey, only he ends up getting killed and regenerating as Little Miss Who."

Sleipnir rapped his knuckles against the wood. "Hey, I was just asking who was up here and claiming this Dreaming Space as theirs?"

"That would be me." Magenta traced across the initials, following the same path as Sleipnir. When she bit her lip, I wished that I could suck it between mine and take away the sadness that'd settled around her like a shroud. My bones ached with it. "M stands for—"

"Magenta." Sleipnir covered her hand with his larger one, catching her surprised gaze with his.

"Who's the R?" I demanded.

Not a lover... Don't love the past more than me... Please, I'm not invisible...

"My best friend." I didn't miss her fleeting glance at Fox. "He died because he said always, rather than stop."

That's why she'd insisted that I promise not to say always. Not that I had promised. I was getting the hang of battling my own instincts and training.

She'd lost someone like I'd lost Hector: This R.

Magenta pulled her finger away from the carved initials of her dead childhood friend. Why could I feel the ghost of him in this tiny room where they must've played as kids?

Magenta smiled like she loved feeling close to him.

No one stole my Magenta, especially not a memory.

"Does it please you to remember that we're still alive?" I stroked my gloved hand down Fox's cheek. His breath stuttered, and he flushed. Cute. "We're yours, and we'll please you."

"Sweet Hecate, you already please me, and I'm yours as much as you're mine." Magenta's expression softened.

Pleasure flooded through me at her approval. It fed my power. I shuddered, and my toes curled. But then, not only wasn't my sexy self invisible, but I was the incubus who Magenta scrutinized with such sharpness that I might as well have already been naked.

I furrowed my brow. Should I strip? It was bound to happen in the Stop Game, after all, and why deny the others the view? When I reached for the buttons on my pants, however, Fox batted away my hands with a laugh.

His loss. Perhaps, mages were masochists?

I glanced at him from underneath my eyelashes. I could have some fun with that. Fox froze, swallowing like I was the wolf in the hunt and he'd been caught.

Silly foxy...

I squirmed in anticipation of testing out my theory (I could start by treating myself to a squeeze of his sweet nipples, gentle bite on his pale throat, or quick squeeze of his balls), and see if he deliciously moaned or pinned me down inside.

Both were fine options.

I latched my lips to Fox's throat, but before I could do more than press my teeth against his skin, he froze. "Have your turned into a Vampire Incubus? Pan's balls, was this whole thing a ruse to get me up here and eat me? Look, my blood'll taste terrible like an unholy cocktail of vinegar, lemon rind, and gin. Try Sleipnir’s, instead. His probably tastes like honey and milk."

Sleipnir snorted. "Huh, at least I know who'd be eaten first if we were stuck on a desert island."

"Admittedly, there’s the most meat on you." Magenta assessed him, speculatively.

I drew back from Fox's neck in outrage, licking over the hickey in apology. Incubi were better at sucking than biting (startling discovery), but we'd proved in the Dick Contest who had the most meat on them.

Fox cleared his throat. "Bitey, don't say it. Anyway, my cunning plan would be to eat myself and then let you heal me. Then no one would have to die, even if there was a honeyed god to scoff."

He said the sweetest things.

Magenta grimaced. "Well, I'd wonder where such macabre thoughts came from, if I wasn't a Ghost Witch, this wasn't a magical academy that imprisoned us, and if tomorrow we weren't likely to all die."

Fox's lips quirked. "And that, ladies and gentleman, is how a Victorian gets a party started!"

All of a sudden, coughing spluttered from the tunnel.

Then a disgruntled Lysander (wow, he pulled off disgruntled and cute), crawled out of the low gap into the Dreaming Space, followed by Willoughby. The Princes’ smart uniforms were smeared with dust and cobwebs.

That was a fine sight.

I smirked, as Lysander knelt up. He stared with a disgusted expression at his dirty hands. Then reluctantly, he wiped them down his uniform trousers, before shuffling closer to us in the circle.

As an incubus of the ancient Night Lineage, I knew the importance of appearance, as well of being prepared. I'd brought a comb, handheld mirror, and wipes with me. I glanced over my immaculate uniform and shiny hair, licking over my kissable lips.

I was sizzling.

My rivals, on the other hand, were rumpled and stained.

Advantage the Immortals.

Plus, as Lysander's suspicious gaze swept over us, he appeared to know it. Was the Fae Court much different to the Succubus one, even for a prince?

Willoughby edged closer to Magenta. He ducked his head, pulling his knees up under him. Magenta exchanged a glance with Sleipnir, before shuffling closer to Willoughby and sitting next to him, cross-legged. When their knees touched, Willoughby jumped, glancing up.

Please let him be ours...

"One does not know why one is here." Lysander sat stiffly like even the air was contaminating his princely arse (and every other part of his bastard self).

Fox shook his head, sadly. "Fae dementia is a sad thing."

I snickered.

"Why you wanted to force us to this dreadful place, you fool," Lysander curled his hands into fists in his lap. "Why you'd threaten to lie about..."

"Your prank to melt your asshole tutor…?" Sleipnir offered, helpfully.

Lysander clenched his jaw. "Have you no idea the penalty that we'd suffer for that? No doubt you do and would delight in our suffering." Why was he avoiding looking at Magenta? Ah, did our haughty fae have a true crush? Who’d blame anyone for loving my Magenta? Although, I had almost vomited when he'd kissed Fox in Bacchus' lesson and had looked like he'd kiss Magenta as well at any moment. Unlike Willoughby, I didn't think that Magenta could love him back. She'd been hurt by a fae prince (by Titus, his own family), and I knew enough to see that she'd lost everything because of it. I almost felt sorry for Lysander. Yuck. Now I felt dirty. "Why would you challenge us to a childish game, when tomorrow afternoon you must risk your lives on a dangerous mission?"

Magenta clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, you do care! How kind."

"We always go to bed early on the night before a mission," Willoughby explained; his gaze was mildly curious.

I examined his silk uniform. It set my Incubus Envy-O-Meter tingling because it was beautiful. Yet tonight, I could see that it was wound too tightly. How could my cute elf breathe? His eyes were glazed. It was like he was struggling to focus on staying here with us.

Where was he being dragged to?

I narrowed my eyes. No one ignored an incubus. I'd just have to try hard to keep his attention on us tonight.

Sleipnir slouched against the wall, and Magenta's magic curled around his shoulders like she was still clasping onto him. His hair sparkled aquamarine. When his tongue darted out, his piercing glittered.

It could do magical things that piercing (just ask my dick).

"By the runes, you're the asshole who lost the Rebel Cup. If we wanted to delight in your suffering, then we'd just watch Titus' fury over that. After all, the dickhead's coming to watch the Dragon Polo Tournament." Lysander paled, flinching. Why was sympathy washing through me again? Away with you, sympathy for the devil was a thing. "So, we're offering you the chance tonight to reclaim some honor by being the team who gets to kick off the Dragon Polo. Whoever wins the Stop Game earns that right."

I'd planned the Stop Game to melt the Ice Prince. But Sleipnir had insisted that Lysander was so competitive that he wouldn't play unless there was a winner, loser, and a prize that meant something to his screwed-up honor.

He only did anything if he thought that there was an advantage in it for him. It was almost incubi-worthy.

When Lysander hugged his wings around himself more tightly, I noticed the wolf sized teeth marks in his feathers. It'd been a fine sight yesterday to see him dragged out from the wood, snarling. I'd been terrified that I'd see a limp fox clamped between the Omegas' fangs, instead.

I'd whooped, hugging Magenta, unable to let go because Fox was alive, alive, alive...

My brave, clever, whipping boy.

Caught in the sudden happiness of the memory, I twisted to Fox, pressing my lips to his. His eyes widened in surprise, then his smile against my lips was delicious in its pleasure.

Lysander coughed behind me. "Sorry to interrupt...whatever this is...and thank you for the reminder that Midnight's wings shall be broken because of my failure, as well as my guardian's impending fury for losing the Rebel Cup."

Fox's pleasure soured. Was that guilt? I pulled away from the kiss, but kept my hand possessively curled around his neck, as I twisted back to face the circle.

Sleipnir shrugged. "You're welcome."

"Where's Midnight?" Magenta asked.

Lysander's eyes narrowed. "Shockingly, he didn't feel up to celebrating. Will you punish me for granting him that reprieve?"

Punish? Were fae masochists as well? Wow, I had a lot of theories to test tonight. But as the old incubi saying went: For every kink there’s a season.

Magenta's mists swirled around Lysander, before he could flinch away. She reached across the circle, clasping his hand.

"Do you believe me so cold and heartless?" Magenta worked her fingers between Lysander's, unballing his fist. "It's the professors who punish and not me. We're all students. Can't you allow yourself one evening of merriment?"

Lysander wrenched away his hand. "One was raised as an Unseelie fae prince at Court. You’ve no conception of the burdens, which were placed on me from the earliest age. The things that they demanded I do... There was no time for games."

"Well, that sucks." Fox pushed me gently off his lap. I pouted, straightening out my uniform. He should fear my plotted incubi revenge (or snuggles, I was one changeable hottie). "But you're at the Court of Fox now, and I say: fun for everyone." Then he shot Willoughby a sideways glance that I didn't understand. "Just theoretically...I mean, in theory...if I accidentally...lie to you...or hypothetically wreck you...then you wouldn't go around telling everybody, right?"

Willoughby's lips twitched. "Hypothetically, it’d be dishonorable to tell on you."

Fox's shoulder's relaxed, and he gave Willoughby a bright smile. "Stop Game here we come."

Lysander held up one finger. "My noble self will take part in this farce, but there must be rules first, whipping boy. Of course, I understand that you struggle with those. What is this filthy place anyway? Couldn't we at least have played somewhere that wasn't—"

"This is the most magical part of the castle. Can't you feel it?" Magenta said, softly. I shivered, as her magic thrummed and sparkled. It tingled across my skin, and pleasure wound through me like her roots were inside me now, hot and pulsing. My dick pulsed in time like a musical beat. "I'd crawl through the tunnels to reach it, when mother was cruel to father or I needed somewhere secret. The magic would hold tight to me like it was kissing away every fear."

Willoughby's eyes fluttered closed, and he whispered. "I can feel it. It's calling me to the Other World."

"Snap out of it." Lysander shook Willoughby, until his eyes opened. "Hiding in magic doesn't work, just like a scared child hiding away from the truth."

Magenta became ashen.

Oh no, he didn't just hurt Magenta...

I wasn't a warrior, but I'd just got into biting. The Omega had already sunk his fangs into Lysander's wing; I'd bet that it’d sensitive if I latched onto the same place...

Sleipnir shook his head at me, however, and I sat back with a frown.

"The asshole fae doesn't want to hide. Let's help him with that." When Sleipnir's gaze met mine, it glittered with mischief.

He was hot when he was dangerous. Almost as hot as me.

I grinned. "Two teams — Princes and Immortals — each take it in turns to select one player. Then that player sits in the middle of the circle. It's the rival player's job within a minute to make them forfeit by saying stop."

Lysander's wings beat in agitation. "But you could do anything: hexes, torture, or..."

"Lay off! Your mind would go there. This was a game played between incubi bonded who feed on giving pleasure and not pain."

"It's a sex game." Lysander became unnaturally still. "You lured us here for a kinky sex club. My guardian warned me about things like this."

Fox barked with laughter.

Why hadn't we thought of a kinky sex club? That would've been brilliant.

Lysander scrambled backwards towards the tunnel. Sleipnir sighed, diving across to snatch Lysander around the middle and drag him back, holding him down by the neck and pressing him to the floor.

My balls ached at the sight (traitor balls).

I noticed that Willoughby hadn't attempted to escape our clutches. In fact, his gaze was fixed longingly on Magenta, when he thought that we were all watching his fellow Prince being dominated by Sleipnir.

"Of course it was...kinky...in the harem." My grin widened. "But Magenta boringly has more morals than me and has insisted—"

"No touching," Fox explained, far more gently than I'd been expecting. "Except between those of us who are all into the touching."

He winked at me.

Sleipnir eased off Lysander, who slowly pushed himself back up to his knees, smoothing out his hair like he hadn't just been wrestling on the floor with an Immortal.

"And the moment that you say stop...it all stops." Sleipnir's expression was more serious than I'd ever seen it.

"Says the oaf who's just been pinning me to the floor," Lysander muttered.

Sleipnir's eyes flashed. "Valhalla! It's kind of like the game hasn't started yet..."

Sleipnir shuffled out of the circle, and Mist leaped out of his pocket. His eight legs splayed, before he scrambled with a whinny and a snort to the center of the circle like he was claiming the role of the referee.

Lysander narrowed his eyes. "But if you say stop, then you lose."

The stubborn fae would never say stop.

Sudden memories of being in the harem flooded over me. I pressed my nails into my palms.

Stop, stop, stop...

But they'd never stopped.

I couldn't play this, if Lysander held those same screams within his head, refusing to say the word. My sexy self wasn't the same as the bonded who'd hazed me.

I crawled across the circle, holding out my hand to Lysander. He stared at it in shock for a moment, before taking it. Then I yanked him into the middle of the circle.

"Would you wish one chance to say stop without losing? It needs to be said twice by one team to count as a loss."

Lysander nodded, uncertainly.

"And you're first, prince," I whispered.

Did it make me a bad incubus that I loved how he jumped?

"Why must my royal personage be first?" Lysander demanded.

Mist snorted fiery sparks at him in protest and pawed the floor.

My teeth glinted in the eerie light of Magenta's magic. "New rule: the player who's selected must sit silently and still or they also lose. If you wish, you can say stop at any time."

"I do not have fae dementia." Lysander curled his wings around himself like that would protect him from attack.

Never underestimate an incubus.

Fox glanced at his watch. "One minute...starting...now..."

Lysander's eyes were emerald pools. I watched his alabaster throat as he swallowed, struggling to stay still. Then I deliberately and never taking my gaze from his, sucked my thumb (sucking, see?), while he blinked at me in confusion.

Then I brought my thumb towards his ear. I expected a screech of stop, but Lysander only wrinkled his nose in distaste. I swiped my thumb just above his lips, and his gaze threatened revenge.

And not the fun sort.

I snickered, before drumming my fingers on my knee (always out of rhythm because I wasn't an amateur).

Lysander's cheek twitched.

I was getting to him.

I leaned closer, until my breath ghosted across his throat.

Technically, I wasn't touching.

He bit his lip but didn't move.

It was part of incubi training, however, to always be prepared. I'm sure that it included kinky games. Seriously, it'd be in the bonus material. Look it up.

So, now I'd bring out the big guns. Lysander's eyes widened in fear at the predatory smile that curled my lips. Then I burst into a wild...off-key...version of the Spice Girls' "Wannabe" with added Girl Power attitude.

This time, Lysander's eye twitched.

I slung my arms around Sleipnir's neck, before throwing a kiss to Fox, who groaned but still dramatically caught it. After all, as the song preached, if Lysander wanted a piece of my pettable arse, then he had to become friends with my lovers. Well, that was my take away message.

Nobody could survive a combination of the Spice Girls and my slinky self.

Lysander opened his mouth as if to protest but stopped himself in time. Magenta shot me her best you're a scheming incubus but with that pettable arse I'd let you off anything look.

Away with you, that was what it meant.

I wriggled around to straddle Magenta, as she teasingly undid my shirt. I slid my hand down my chest to tweak at my own nipples (there was nothing in the rules about touching myself), and writhed up and down like a snake in a lap dance. Her hands rested lightly on my hips.

Fox glanced at his watch. "Ten seconds."

I had to win this for my incubus pride.

Magenta was flushed, and her eyes were glassy. When I glanced over my shoulder at Lysander, just gearing up for the rap section of "Wannabe" (it was going to be fierce), I was shocked that Lysander's eyes were glassy too. His hands were clamped over his knees, and his knuckles were white like he was desperate to move. Yet I didn't know if he was struggling not to grab hold of my sexy arse or Magenta's.

I'd bet that it was both.

Fox bounced onto his knees in excitement. "Five, four, three, two..."

"Stop, damn you," Lysander hissed.

His hands shot to cover his lap in the universal and time-honored hiding your hard-on position.

My mouth snapped shut.

Sleipnir breathed out in relief. "Thank the Valkyries." When I arched my brow dangerously at him, he swallowed. "Hey, I just meant that you've spoiled us enough."

I preened. I was one generous incubus and I'd won the Stop Game for the Immortals. At the same time, I'd cracked open Lysander's mask.

Girl Power was powerful.

Yet I was shocked by the malevolence of Lysander's grin. "My turn, I believe."

Here's the thing, my time at the Succubus Court had taught me that a wounded rival was a deadly one. Never whip your enemy bloody and then pass them the whip. Unless you were playing a kinky sex game.

"Not a chance," my voice was hard. "Didn't I mention that if you stop, then you don't get to choose the next player?"

Lysander slumped against the wall, curling his wings around himself to hide his condition. "It must've slipped your musically challenged mind."

Lysander arched his brow, casting a significant glance at Willoughby and then me.

Yep, no attempt to influence his fellow Prince at all.

Willoughby's gaze darted between Magenta and me. I knew which of us he wanted to choose.

Yet I didn't think that it was only out of fear or respect for Lysander that he shuffled towards me. Only an elven prince could manage to make a shuffle look elegant.

I crawled into the middle of the circle, sitting cross-legged. I'd meditated this way with my ma, and it made me feel closer to a time when I'd been safe.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Willoughby would listen to me if I said it, right?

Willoughby's brow furrowed. "This game is meant to tease and give pleasure, I believe?"

"As you wish."

His forehead touched mine. "It's as you wish. Only then shall I play."

I shuddered. I was meant to be in charge here. When had I lost control?

"As I wish," I replied.

The words were heavy on my tongue. Had I ever said them before...?

How was Willoughby cracking me open...?

Willoughby's smile was soft, as he moved back. "Then let us play."

"One minute," Fox called.

Sixty seconds. This was easy. I'd stayed silent and still, while I'd burned myself. What could an elf do to me?

When Willoughby caged me in with his arms, I almost eeped. How had I thought anything about him had been soft? He was lithe, coiled, and dangerous. His scent was like being lost in wintry grasses, just as I was lost in the frozen blue of his eyes.

I remembered the feel of his hard thighs and I regretted the no touching rule.

Then he started to hum, and it vibrated through me like my nerves were on fire. Willoughby remained as still as me. We were ice sculptures, trapped in a staring contest (and I'd been the harem champion at those).

But Willoughby was better. He didn't even blink.

My skin heated, and my balls ached and tightened. Willoughby's humming grew in volume, vibrating through my dick. I panted and gasped.

Dick...don't listen to the naughty Pied Piper of Cumlin...he's trying to drown you...in your own cum.

But my dick was only interested in the pretty tune and its own forced orgasmic destruction.

Dicks are idiots.

"Say stop, and I shall," Willoughby murmured. "Do you want this?" Then he turned to Magenta, concerned. "Is he allowed to nod?"

"Of course, " she replied.

I nodded, frantically.

"Ten seconds," Fox warned.

I gritted my teeth. Don't you dare stop, elfie...not now...

"Five, four, three..." Fox glanced at me. I struggled not to arch and lose at the last moment. I'd win against the Orgasm Whisperer. "...Two, one..."

Willoughby leaned closer to my ear, humming a long sweet note that pushed me over the edge.

I hollered, before slumping forward. My dick pulsed and came with such intensity that white sparks blurred my vision. When I could see again, I met Willoughby's amused gaze.

He'd just out-sexed an incubus: he'd earned a moment of smugness.

But then, Lysander yanked Willoughby back by the arm, and he winced.

Sleipnir growled, and Mist galloped across the room to butt his head into Lysander's balls.

Lysander groaned. "Call off your monster. One happens to be Prefect of my Wing, and how I discipline my Princes is my affair."

"If I see you disciplining him again," Magenta's voice was as frosty as her magic that now snowed around us in pink snowflakes, "then I shall take back the non-touching rule just for you."

Lysander blanched, then his gaze became steely. He shook Willoughby. "Amusing how you turned a game of torment into one of pleasure. You saw how the incubus humiliated me."

I frowned. "Harsh. If we're talking torment, then I'd at least have chosen Crazy Frog’s brilliant novelty song."

"Don't even think about it," Fox warned like I was about to launch into the most annoying song in creation after “Baby Shark”.

Ah, it was sweet how well he knew me already.

Lysander pulled Willoughby even closer. "Have you no loyalty, even after what I've suffered to keep you safe from your brother?"

To my surprise, Willoughby's expression softened, and he patted Lysander's shoulder. "Can't I be both Prince and wish not to harm Immortals?"

I drew in a sharp breath, darting a glance to Magenta. This was it: The plan to break the Membership by bringing over the Princes to our side.

Who wouldn't choose Magenta? But if Willoughby was too shy to come to Magenta, then Magenta would have to go to Willoughby.

Magenta’s lips curled into a smile, as she nodded at me. I edged to the wall.

"I choose Willoughby." Magenta pointed at him.

The tips of Willoughby's cute pointy ears reddened, and he clutched Lysander like he'd save him.

Instead, Lysander's eyes glittered, and he shoved Willoughby tumbling into the center of the circle. "Enjoy this so-called game, when she's humiliating you."

Willoughby's expression shuttered, and he sat with his back military straight.

Sleipnir pulled Fox onto his lap, carding his fingers through his curls, as they both intently watched.

"One minute," Fox called.

Magenta's magic slipped from the walls in a fine mist, settling around Willoughby like pink clouds. He panted, and the tips of his hair iced.

"Can you feel the connection of our magic?" Magenta whispered. "Nothing divides us. Feel it...and awake..."

"Stop," Willoughby choked out.

Magenta froze. Her magic blasted away from him like it'd been stung. Her eyes gleamed with rejected tears, the same as his.

Shocked, I glanced between them. What’d gone wrong?

"Fifty-four seconds," Fox muttered. "Wow, I've won Silver Award Mindfuck, but Magenta must be at Platinum."

"The Immortals have won, which means that we’re also kicking off the polo," Sleipnir pointed out.

"One has many talents," Lysander snarled, "but caring about your petty game right now is not one of them." I gaped at him. The perfect prince wasn’t bothered about losing a competition…? Instead, he scrambled to Willoughby, sliding his hand across the prince’s arms and legs as if Magenta had broken him. Except, she had. "Look what you've done."

Although he glared at us, Lysander still appeared bewildered.

Yet it was clear to my slinky self that we'd wrecked Willoughby. The glimpse of her true self and magic...everything that he'd yearned for in his diary...had been wrong.

I was a bad incubus.

Something squirmed inside, and I didn't like the sensation. Willoughby’s feelings for Magenta wasn't a crush; it was true love. He'd join us, but we couldn't play with him anymore.

It had to be real.

"Next time you wish to make someone feel," Lysander said, coldly, "how about feeling yourself?"

I was certain Lysander hadn’t meant that to sound so kinky.

Lysander turned, pulling Willoughby after him. Willoughby's head was ducked, and his shoulders shook. It was Magenta's cheeks, however, which were streaked with tears.

Where had the game gone so wrong? My currently sticky pants were evidence that this had been a fun evening...until it hadn't.

That squirming feeling was back. Incubi didn't do guilt; it made your hair limp. But the squirming feeling had to be because the game had been my idea.

"Follow Willoughby in your sexy Voyeur ghost form," I urged Magenta, fiercely. "Please, I can't go on the mission tomorrow, leaving behind someone who loves you...us...and who's in pain." My temples throbbed. Hector had never truly believed that I'd loved him because he'd been told too many times by bad bastards that he was unlovable. I dived forward, catching Magenta's hands between mine. Her magic sparked. "Love Willoughby. Save him."