Rebel Academy: Crush

Chapter Three MAGENTA

I shivered, as wild magic pulsed through me, lighting the East Wing in a pink blizzard. It was thrilling to have no control and terrifying in equal measure. My power drew its energy from nature, sucking it from the air and questing its roots down to draw it from the earth. Yet it stole nothing because nature couldn't be controlled either; it chose to answer my call.

It was a scream of no more: no more loss or loneliness. No more would this academy take my lovers.

It was every buried truth crushed from me.

The Rebels were mine, and our souls were bound both now and after death.

Nobody would take Bask from me.

I wound my arms around Bask's neck, and my skirts dissolved to black mists that coiled around him, binding him even closer.

It appeared that my ghostly side took the whole possessive part of me, which had been awoken, literally. Yet by the way that Bask's hard prick rubbed against my thigh, and his wide eyes stared into mine with an aching longing, he didn't mind.

It wasn't only crows and incubi who had nesting impulses, however, but also my Wickedly Charmed magic. It quested around the room, across the desks and counter, searching for a safe place....I hoped, to ravish Bask.

When my magic hesitated like a sniffer dog over Lysander's bed, I yanked at it with a grimace. Wanking was one thing, but I was not making love to the man who I craved more than my next breath in a fae prince's bed. I did not have a fae kink (although, Flair insisted that did indeed exist).

I glanced across the room at Willoughby's bed, which was beside an open window. The carved ice glistened; the ice columns rose high. It looked like it belonged to a true Prince Charming, if Charming was a killer.

An ice bed for an Ice Prince.

Perhaps, it'd at least cool down the fever, which was burning through me.

I swallowed; my forehead was damp with sweat. When Bask's gaze caught mine, his tongue darted out to wet his plush lips. I forced myself to look away because it made my fingers ache to reach out and trace down the alabaster line of his throat to the dip of his collar bone, which was definitely clouding my decision-making abilities.

"Do you have any bad associations with Willoughby's bed?" I panted.

For the love of Hecate, say no.

"Only that it'd be a fine thing to be sharing it with Willoughby," Bask replied. Then just in case I'd missed his meaning, he continued, "This pettable incubus, that pretty elf, and you...together, here, in this—"

"Let's christen it then." When I grabbed Bask's hand, his eyes widened in surprise.

We fell onto Willoughby's bed, amid the sky-blue velvet covers that swathed the ice and the scent of tea. It was cool and aromatic. The ceiling glistened with ice just like the tips of Willoughby's hair would glisten when he lost control of his anger. Perhaps, he did when he slept? Did he suffer from nightmares, the same as the Immortals?

For a moment, it was like Willoughby truly was in the bed with us, wrapping his arms around us both.

When Bask shuddered and scrambled to the headboard to take refuge amongst the snowflake cushions, I caged him beneath me.

There was dark magic in this bed: binding magic.

Yet was it Willoughby's or whoever was controlling him?

"You can feel it too?" Bask whispered.

I nodded.

"We must save the elf," Basks voice was steely. "Someone's hurting him. I owe him a touch debt, and he pet me. That means I’ll protect him, even though he's a Prince."

I rested my forehead against Bask’s, as my magic swirled around us. "But you're leaving us all, are you not?"

Bask drew in his breath, sharply. "It's not my wish."

"Then stay with me." My magic spun above our heads, faster and faster. It clung against the bed’s columns. "I came back to life for you."

"It'd please me if you did." When Bask feathered kisses along my jaw, my pulse fluttered in my neck. My nerves were on fire. "But it was Slippy's sacrifice and Fox's blood that resurrected you. Don't you see?"

I drew back in shock. Bask’s eyes gleamed with tears but none fell.

Why would he never allow himself to cry?

I froze at the thought that the instinct to weep could’ve been trained out of him. Was that why he loved us so fiercely but didn’t believe that I could venerate him?

He didn’t need to prove anything to me. I'd just have to prove how much he was adored, instead.

Bask gasped, as my black mists shot out, drawing back his hands and binding him to the bed. Then I slowly loosened his tie.

Bask never broke eye contact with me, and his lips parted. I longed to push my tongue between those sweet lips and kiss away every moment of broken doubt. But first, I had glorious skin to stroke and claim, while he was still here with me: alive and mine.

I'd been forbidden to touch him and now I'd luxuriate in every caress. I was a rebel, after all.

How could I lose this?

When I pushed back Bask’s blazer and unbuttoned his shirt, pausing to tease each inch of revealed skin with the tips of my gloved fingers, lips, tongue, and teeth, Bask panted and tugged on my mists that bound his hands. I swiped my thumb over his sensitive nub, and he arched.

So, I did it again.

Then I pulled his shirt out of his pants. When I rested my hand over his crotch, his prick twitched against my hand. I glanced from underneath my eyelashes into his flushed face. His pleasure coiled through me, and he glowed with mine.

Couldn't he see how powerful...and dangerous...we were together?

I’d once heard Flair call it a power couple.

"Your pleasure is what summoned me from Hecate's Tree. Without your power, I wouldn't have been able to escape in the first place." I slipped my hand into Bask's pants, pulling out his prick, before melting away my own clothing. I loved how efficient it was now to undress. I also loved Bask's appreciative gasp. My bouncy bosoms certainly were perkier for the praise. "I needed all three of you to save me; your pleasure and love combine in a way that no other Rebels' ever has. You're special together. I need all three of you."

"Four with Willoughby," Bask insisted with a tilt of his chin, which was impressive, as I rubbed my palm over the head of his prick.

I smiled. "Four."

I floated above him — half ghost and half witch — but all wicked. My lips curled into a smile. Even I knew that I couldn't get away with that type of thought, when I sounded like Mary bloody Poppins. Still, I could pull off being a spirit lover.

My lips tingled with a magic that vibrated through the entire academy.

I pulled back Bask's shirt to reveal his sculpted chest, and I was flooded with warmth, despite the coolness of the velvet beneath me. "What a perfectly charming gift to unwrap."

Bask stretched like he was showing himself off with the way that his body bowed and his muscles bulged, glancing at me with half-lidded eyes. My stomach clenched at his sinful beauty.

I'd never believed it possible to come untouched, before. Until now.

I traced my hand down his muscles, pausing only to lean forward to lick at his nipples. My hair swept across his skin, and he jumped like he'd been tickled.

"Who wouldn't want to find this incubus underneath their tree?" Bask rolled his hips.

I tightened my hold around his prick, before sitting up and rubbing its silky head along my inner thigh. I gasped at the sensation at the same time as Bask.

"What fun I'd have playing with you." I slid my hand lower to cup his balls.

His beauty burned me, as he murmured, "If you wish, I'm whatever you desire."

Our desires are deadly. But pleasure called to pleasure.

I crushed my mouth to Bask's, curling my tongue around his. My black mists slipped down his body to bind around his prick and balls.

I'd never let him go.

Cresting waves crashed through me. Again, and again, and...

As I clenched, caught in the intensity of the spasms wracking me, Bask's prick pulsed in the hold of my mists. His cum fed my pleasure, and in the cycle of our passion, I lost control. My magic spread in pink brambles that grew Sleeping Beauty style out of the castle walls around the bed, until Bask and I were safe inside their thick tangle.

Yet there was no true protection from Damelza, Hecate, or the world outside.

But just for now, sweet Hecate, give me this.

I ripped my mists away from Bask, solidifying back to my human legs again, so that I could wrap them around Bask, as I gripped his cheeks and kissed him. I wanted nothing but the taste of coco and almonds.

Always.

I'd told him not to say it, but my answer was: always.

If saving Bask meant that I became Sleeping Beauty to Bask's new Prince in the safety inside the glowing womb of my magic, then I chose always to dream.

Why couldn't I dream just a little longer?

Yet broken broomsticks, even I could see the thorns in the brambles, as they curled around the frosty columns. In truth, was it I who trapped the students in the academy, as much as the wards themselves? After all, it was my Blessedly Charmed magic that’d set them, even if I'd been no more than a baby in a cradle.

The room shook, darkened to hazy magenta. Bask and I clung to each other; our pleasure fed each other’s. Bask’s eyes glowed with predatory power.

Did anything outside our love and this cool, tea scented chamber even exist?

Peck, peck, peck.

When I broke the kiss, Bask was dazed. His skin gleamed with sweat. My brambles drew back, filtering in light that made me blink, as something tore at them with a sharp beak.

"What's wrong?" Bask's voice was slurred like he'd been drugged.

Peck, peck, peck.

The hole in the brambles grew. My magic drew back, shivering.

"Stop destroying this infernal academy with your Muff of Doom, boss," a loud London voice called.

Then a crow's beak poked through, snapping with a loud click of disapproval.

My head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton wool, whereas the rest of my body felt filled with something far more pleasurable. I magicked myself back into my clothes. "My...what?"

Why was English so hard to understand all of a sudden? And why was a second beak and two sets of beady eyes now peering through at us, as I slipped Bask's prick back into his pants. I enjoyed the way that he gasped, as it rubbed against the stiff material.

"Your Deadly Quim, Dominator Cocklane, Cu-"

"I assure you that I have it under control, Flair," I said, hastily.

"You have his prick under control." Flair flapped his wings. "He's been dying for want of a fuck for days."

As my magic faded, and the room stopped shaking, my mind cleared. How could I've forgotten (even for a moment), my crow familiars and twins, Echo and Flair? They'd been burned alive with me and had been my only company in Hecates' tree for over a century. Together, we'd gone a little crazy. Even though I was now half witch, they were still all ghost and only visible to me.

That sort of thing tended to bond you.

Flair swooped to settle on my shoulder. I winced, as his scaly claws bit into my skin, even through the velvet of my dress. His brother, however, tumbled into my lap in a magenta feathery bundle. He let out a series of rambling clicks, and I stroked over his wings, which were as sensitive as a fae's. Then I cuddled him because despite everything, I never wanted to forget him or the world, again.

"Are those pesky crows here now?" Bask snatched the pillows around himself like he expected the familiars to steal his nest at any moment.

"I'll show him pesky when I peck off his cock and balls and turn them into an ice sculpture for the Princes." Flair cawed. "Ask him if he likes being a crow's bitch."

"I most certainly shall not," I hissed.

"By my blood, are you quite well?" Echo tilted his head, studying me, anxiously. “I couldn’t sense you like you’d faded again. Don’t leave me. I need you.”

Would Bask give up just one of his pillows for Echo? "Trust me, it's all right."

Bask straightened his tie. ""Away with you, that was better than all right. A screw with an incubus of the Night Lineage is epic."

"Epic bollocks." Flair pointed his wing at Bask. "Does this idiot know how dangerous a fuckathon between a crazy—"

"But ours," Echo interrupted, fondly.

I wasn't entirely certain that was better.

"...crazy pleasure Ghost witch (who's ours) and a touch deprived incubus is?" Flair demanded.

Bask's brow furrowed. "Are they talking about me?"

I wished that I'd paid more attention to my father, Byron's, skill at diplomacy or how to hold two conversations at once. "They believe that you’re dangerous."

"Of course I’m dangerous." Bask smirked like it was a badge of honor.

I huffed. "By Hecate, that's not awfully helpful. Look, we didn't...screw...we just..."

"Screwed like bunnies who’ve just discovered espressos in their annual spring fuckathon," Flair amended. "We heard you, boss, with the moaning and the ah, ah, ah..."

I flushed.

When Bask did up the buttons of his shirt. I cursed each one of those buttons that they hid his skin from me. I couldn't help that I took it personally. Perhaps, I understood a little of why Lysander kept his whipping boy naked: all that gorgeous skin to see and touch when he wished.

Except, with Bask it'd be willing. If I suggested he strip and go around naked, I'd never be able to get him back into clothes.

Modesty, your name was not incubus.

"Here's the thing, I'm grateful that your familiars rescued us, but how did they know that we were here?" Bask did up the last traitorous button on his shirt.

"You weren't hoping to discover Willoughby in the showers by any chance?" I raised my eyebrow.

"I always hope to catch the pretty elf singing in the showers, watch him soaping, or catch a glimpse of his beautiful prick." Echo rubbed his head against my hand, innocently. "When he sings, it's like waterfalls cascading down my spine."

"Apart from my brother's princely darling, we heard that you'd gone on the run with one of the Rebels and then lost yourself somewhere in the academy." Flair swooped to the headboard, settling down. His eyes glinted. "You know that a crow flies faster than these witch bitches. But they’ll find you."

Unfortunately, I knew that he was right.

Bask slid one of the pillows that he was jealously guarding to the side and pulled out a book. It was bound with crystal. I'd never seen anything like it. It must be elven and ancient.

The book glistened, as Bask moved it side to side, like it'd been coated in ice but also with magic. My own quested around it, afraid to touch.

We should put it back.

The thought punched through me.

Private, private, private....

Whatever this book was, it belonged to Willoughby and the world of the Elven Court before he'd been sent to Rebel Academy. I knew how fiercely I clung to my own memories, before everything had been taken from me, just as Bask clung to Nile. I'd already claimed Willoughby’s bed without his knowledge. This book, however, was a step too far.

"Put that down," I whispered.

Bask stared at the book like he couldn't look away. His hand trembled, and his eyes were wide and fearful. "I can't. I desire it. I think it's his diary."

"I don't give a feathering fuck if it’s the Never-ending Suck Job Special. Get the incubus to put down the diary. Didn't messing with Hecate's Tree teach you not to play with other people's magic?" Flair thwapped his wing across the back of Bask's head, but it only swooshed straight through him.

My breath came in ragged gasps. "How'd you even know it was there?"

Bask shrugged. "My head banged against it earlier, but I was distracted."

"And you didn't think to say something startlingly original like ow?"

"Would that turn you on because I’m meant to keep quiet. I'm used to pain mixed in with my pleasure. It's brilliant that you don't want that like the Duchess, but I can take it. Suffering is easy if you've been trained how."

My guts roiled. I never wanted Bask to simply take anything, just because he thought that I desired it.

I reached forward, dropping Echo sneakily onto the pile of pillows, and gripped Bask's chin. "I don't ever need you to suffer for me, and I'm not the Duchess or like the other witches of the House of Crows. That's why we're going to put the diary back where we found it. Don't you remember how much it destroyed Willoughby earlier to have the letter from his brother read out in class? We can't make it worse by reading his private thoughts as well."

Bask wet his lips. "But what if he talks about us?"

"I rather imagine that he has plenty of impolite things to say on the subject of Immortals."

Bask shook his head. "What if it teaches us his darkest desires and hidden needs? We could use it to convince him to our side. It could be what helps us to break the wards and escape."

My expression hardened. Power thrummed through Bask. This is what made him a dangerous incubus: the thirst to rule through desire. "Almost like you'd gone skin to skin with him," I said. "How much are you hungering for that right now?”

Bask jerked back from me. Hurt flashed through his eyes, before he was able to mask it. "Lay off, you've no idea." He swallowed. "I can control myself. I will."

Reluctantly, he placed down the crystal diary.

I let out a shuddering breath, which I hadn't even known that I'd been holding.

All of a sudden, Echo launched himself forward, however, tearing at the book with his beak. "I want my pretty elf. Bones and blood, he should be an Immortal. But you have to see him first. Please, please, please...love him."

Bask and I cried out, as the book flew open onto crisp white pages that were filled with elegant sky-blue writing.

Then in a glittering explosion, the letters curled out of the diary, spilling Willoughby's hidden secrets.