Rebel Academy: Crush

Chapter Six SLEIPNIR

As the son of Loki, I've witnessed both the monstrous and the wondrous. Often, they're one and the same. Just as frequently, I've searched them out, despite the fact that dad and I were hunted by witches and the immortal followers of Bacchus.

We should've hidden, frightened of our own shadows. But I kind of don't follow rules. I loved the world, even if the world feared me.

Yet Magenta has never feared me. She believed that I wasn't a monster, and for her sake, I pretended that it was true. Yet she'd been lost somewhere between worlds; I'd been able to feel it tingling through my magic like the veils were blowing across the back of my neck.

Omens and runes, that was never good.

Why couldn’t it’ve been her cool breath instead, which never failed to harden my dick in my pants? My balls had even ached at the thought of thrusting between her thighs, as she rode me like the animal I was.

Thor’s cock, it wasn’t like I had to hide it anymore.

Even when I'd sensed Magenta return, it was muted like the Rainbow Bridge had been painted gray. I shuddered at Odin's reaction if Loki had ever played that trick.

Whatever was happening, I was stuck locked in the Immortals’ West Wing bedroom with Fox. I shook my cotton candy pink hair out of my eyes, which fell in gentle spikes. In my anguish about Magenta, my brother Jormungand had risen to the front of my personality tonight. As a triplet, I loved my brothers, but when I was already battling to deal with the fact that Magenta and Bask were missing, it was harder to cope with their struggle over my mind.

I was wearing the academy striped pink and black silk pajamas but I liked to pull off a rebel vibe even in bed, so I rolled up the shirtsleeves to show my muscular forearms; shimmering sea serpents coiled around them like they were alive.

Jormungand was out to kick someone's ass.

I booted a pillow off the bed in frustration and then was glad…just for a moment…that Bask wasn’t there to witness my pillow abuse.

This was a chaos moment.

It called out to me, even from the World Tree. The urgency to seize the event that could change everything thrummed through me. But I couldn't even break through the spell that trapped me inside this freezing bedroom.

As if at my thought, the braziers blazed higher with pink fire, warming me. I turned my cheek towards it. Shadows danced across the stone walls and plain wardrobes and desks. My books were strewn in haphazard piles across the floor, mingling with Bask's. The thought of the gorgeous incubus wrecked me.

Valhalla! I couldn't lose him like I'd lost Hector last term.

Mist, the miniature horse with eight legs who Magenta had transfigured in class out of my plectrum and her black mists trotted along my shoulder like it was a balancing bar. He shot out sad flames on each exhale. I couldn't hide my emotions now because they were shown to the world in Mist's reactions.

I'd been connected to death all my life, just like dad. Yet straddling the line between worlds wasn't the same as watching people that you loved die.

I had loved Hector, hadn't I?

I mean, not in the same I shall love him, even after death intensity of Bask. But Bask didn't seem to be able to love in any way that didn't include throwing his heart at someone's feet. It made him almost as vulnerable as Fox, who'd spent his life trapped in an attic by his dick family and aching for someone to even notice him. Fox would throw himself at someone's feet to be loved.

I didn't need love...or friendship...like they did. I'd lived with dad and my brothers who existed inside me for so long that my heart was as much mist as Magenta was.

I sprawled on the vast bed in the center of the room, which I should've been sharing with all the Immortals. A satin pillow dug into my back, which also should've been Bask's because he had a freaky obsession with nesting into or hoarding them. I'd once opened the wardrobe to find two stuffed at the bottom. Bask had winked, calling it his Emergency Pillow Fund.

When I grabbed my guitar, my pajamas rode up to reveal a pale strip of my stomach. Fox opened one eye like he was checking me out.

By the Norns, a cat could look at a god.

Fox was transformed into his white Birman form with fluffy fur and a long tail. I'd tried to stroke the crooked tip earlier, but Fox had wrapped his tail around himself like I'd overstepped some kind of Cat Code. Perhaps, there was a feline version of the Incubus one with rules about mice and feathery things, rather than shiny hair and pettable arses.

Huh, I seriously hoped not.

The way that I'd cooed at Fox hadn't helped, but then, he was adorable. Now, he was curled up on Nile like it was a Bask substitute. I'd tried to sneakily replace the crocodile with a pillow, but Fox had hissed at me.

On fear of Valkyries, when Bask discovered white fur on his plushie, it wouldn’t be my ass who was held responsible.

I strummed my guitar, and Mist perked up, sliding down to fit into my pocket. I didn't cope well either with being caged or feeling powerless. Loki had spent my childhood teaching me to scheme because hoping for the best was a fool's hope.

So far, he hadn't been wrong.

Almost like my fingers had found the chords without my knowing it, I played R.E.M's "Everybody Hurts". Fox shot me a sardonic look (I was learning that he had an impressive ability to communicate in shifter form, even if his fluffy shifter ass was trash talking). The music was raw and intimate, however, and held hope for me that my lovers weren't lost. It was nothing but emotion...heart...and I clenched my jaw, as it washed over me.

Hey, I could do pining and obsessive love the same as Bask or Emo angst like Fox. It was just that my guitar spoke for me.

I screwed shut my eyes. Where was Magenta? What had happened?

Damelza had burst back into the Bird Turret room at the end of Strategy Class without either Magenta or Bask. Ezekiel had been so shocked that he'd raised his angelic wings in an automatic display of dominance and protection, stepping in front of us students.

There was no way that an Addict Angel, ex-Rebel, and male Professor was permitted to act like that towards the witch Principal. I'd shuddered at the thought of her clamping chains to his wings as she had to Ambrose. To my shock, both the Princes had stepped in a protective semicircle around the Professor at the same time as us Immortals. Both sides had eyed each other warily.

Was this a truce?

Prince Lysander humiliated me, but was I wrong to doubt Magenta's plan of winning them to our side?

Luckily, Damelza had been so furious about Magenta stealing Bask (like the awesome warrior she was), that she ignored Ezekiel and slammed Fox and me against the wall with her magic. Then she'd interrogated us like we'd been part of a grand plot to make her look a jackass in front of the Duchess.

It’d made me wish that I had been part of a plot.

When Damelza had threatened to beat the truth out of my whipping boy, it'd been Lysander who'd sidled towards her.

"You could try that," Lysander had said. "But Midnight rarely admits the truth to his mischief under torture. Rather, he'll say anything to stop the lashes falling." I'd instantly glanced at the beautiful curve of Midnight's shoulders, who was Lysander's vampire whipping boy, as he knelt in the corner. Midnight wrapped his ash wings around himself. He ducked his head, and his dark hair fell to his waist in waves. How could anyone hurt him? "My royal personage has found that isolation and time alone to think about the consequences of his actions is much more effective."

Damelza had blinked. "You mean time-out?"

Lysander's mouth had twisted. "If one must look at it that way." His gaze had slid to us. "Shall we call it sending them to their room, while the rest of us help in the search attempt?"

I’d have thought that it Lysander’s way to humiliate me, but there'd been something in Fox's expression, as he hadn't taken his searching gaze away from Lysander, which made me take a sharp breath. In turn, Lysander had shuffled his feet.

Bor's beard, the fae was saving us. He was as good a liar as Fox. I had to admire that.

Damelza had nodded. "Excellent suggestion. But if the Princes don’t manage to retrieve the runaways before the staff do," Damelza's smile had become sharp at the way that Willoughby had stroked his hand along Lysander's arm, "then your whipping boy will take the punishment."

Fox had argued, begged, and ranted that he be punished, instead. Midnight hadn't said a word or even raised his gaze.

Once Fox and I had been shoved into the bedroom for our time-out, Fox had transformed into a cat like he needed some feline snuggling to bring down his stress. As a shimage, the most hated of mages, he'd been denied the right to choose when he shifted.

Now, I flinched, as Mist nibbled at the inside of my pocket. He neighed, demanding that I get in some feline snuggling too.

I pushed my guitar to the side, lifting Fox onto my knee. He put up a fake squirmy struggle, which ended as soon as I nestled him on my lap. Then he purred, kneading at my balls with his paws.

"Oww, I’ll be needing those, and that's not the type of milk you're looking for, pussy." I carefully extracted Fox’s claws and then tickled behind his soft ears.

Fox rubbed his head against my hand. I stroked down the length of his body but was careful to avoid his tail. I wouldn't admit it on pain of death by troll kiss, but his fur was like petting a cloud. It was almost as silky as Bask's hair.

And I'd never admit that, even on pain of death by troll screw.

I shivered. Trust me, that was a messed-up way to die.

When I rubbed one finger under Fox’s chin, he purred even louder. I loved that he no longer wore a Blood Amulet around his throat that controlled his powers, stopping him from shifting when he chose.

I'd free him. I'd free all the Rebels.

He might allow himself to be petted, but he wasn’t a pet. He was my lover and a powerful mage, whose only crime was to be born into a witch family as a male with magic.

I'd never owned a real pet.

Only once, when my attempt to kidnap a human and force them to become my friend had proved to me that I'd never be worthy of true friendship, Loki had returned home with something tiny and howling with pitiful arroos in his arms.

I'd jolted upright from my lookout outside our tent on the edge of the Alaskan lake. My hands had sunk into the sludgy mud. The dying sun had cast reflections of the snow licked mountains into the water like icicles. Loki and I had been fleeing for months, hunted by a band of the Bacchus cult, who'd almost caught us outside Michigan.

Except, I thought that their allies, the witches, had caught Loki, which was why he hid his tears behind fake smiles.

Loki's smile had been excited and genuine, as he'd dropped to his knees next to me and placed the squirming thing into my lap. My hair had spiked to red, and my brother Fenrir had growled out of his werewolf tattoos in greeting at the wolf cub.

The cub's fur had been dove gray. She'd circled around in my lap on wobbly legs, nosing at my hand, as I'd reached with my palm up, like she hadn't been sure whether I'd been a bed or a playmate. Then she'd gazed up at me with golden eyes, and my tattoos had howled again. My soul had thrilled at discovering another creature that felt like me.

Such wildness.

"A werewolf," I'd breathed.

It was adorable.

Wait, had Fenrir looked like this as a baby?

Loki had grinned. "Kids today and their obsession with vampires and werewolves. She's a normal cub." He'd stroked his thumb across her head like a blessing. "But she's beautiful, right? She's loveable..."

I’d studied dad's face. Like usual, it'd been shuttered in that elegant way of his. But there'd been something in his eyes that I'd only seen flashes of before.

Hope.

He'd worn the same look when he'd gifted me the guitar. Why had he longed for me to like the cub?

He always tried to give me so much, even when he had nothing.

I'd looped my arms around the cub to stop its attempts to squirm free. Fenrir had thrilled at the closeness. He'd been desperate for the cub to become pack, and I'd struggled to keep control.

She wasn't mine...

"Where are her parents? Her brothers and sisters?" I'd asked.

Loki's expression had darkened. "Most of the pack were captured. It was a full moon last night, which means that the witches were harvesting hearts for a spell. I know it sucks, but she was the only one who I could save."

Loki's eyes had widened in shock, as I'd lifted my arms from the cub to around his neck instead, dragging him in to rest my cheek against his.

"You're a dumbass." When I’d banged my forehead against Loki’s, he’d merely hugged me tighter around the shoulders.

"It has been pointed out to me before," he’d answered, drily.

"You went out on a full moon, where you knew there’d be witches," I hissed. "What if they'd..."

Caught you...hurt you...and you'd left me alone forever.

Loki had run his finger down the cub's snout. "By the norns, I never wished to. Yet doesn't it make your cub more precious for the danger it took to save her? Without us now, she'll die."

I'd glanced down at the cub, and she'd stared back at me. "But isn't it like dying to be tamed? You told me that you could never force anyone to belong to you."

Why did I have to say that?

Loki had become ashen, but he'd still reached out to smooth down my bristling spikes like he always had when I'd been agitated. "Huh, serves me right for lecturing you with my so-called wisdom. On fear of Tyr's wrath, I swear that we shall never cage or collar any creature. Don't we live like wild beings? Then she will too, and when she can survive by herself, then we'll free her."

I'd grasped his hand in mine. "I swear on the World Tree, I'll protect her."

"I know you will, little stallion." I'd flushed at the pride warming through his words. "You've looked after your dad all these years, right?" He'd nudged me with his shoulder, and I'd nudged him back. "Whoever you decide to protect in your life, they'll be lucky."

My brow had furrowed. "Only you," I'd promised fiercely, "and cub."

Loki had eased himself back to sit cross-legged next to me, gazing over the lake; his lips had twitched up at one side. "Not forever."

I'd nodded adamantly. "Forever."

My eyes burned at the memory because I was separated from Loki, and he'd known that I'd find someone else to love and protect or he'd hoped that I would.

I wouldn't abandon dad though, like I hadn't abandoned cub. She'd never become my pet. She'd remained wild like me, and then I'd freed her.

I had to do the same for the cat who was snuggled right now on my lap.

When I pushed Fox onto the bed, he arched his back and clambered to his feet in a tangle of claws, fur, and unhappy meows. Then he cast me an aggrieved glance over his shoulder.

Tough luck, wild cat.

I snatched up my guitar and bounced to my knees. Magenta was lost somewhere, but Fox and I were alive. Pining wouldn't protect anyone. I needed a kick up my own ass, and so did Fox.

Luckily for my ass, music was just as effective.

I grinned. "Come on, lazy pussy, let's get you into training. You were seriously unfit on the Discipline Run. The Princes will wreck you in Dragon Polo if you can't do better than collapse in a gasping heap at the first whiff of exercise." Fox's tail smacked dangerously against the bed. Valhalla, I looked one more word away from a face full of enraged pussy; in the right context, I could be down with that. "How about some exercise godly style?"

I strummed my guitar, singing Rick James' disco funk "Super Freak". I bounced up and down on the bed to the sexy and ironic music, thrusting with my crotch because if I was going to be a freak, then I should let out my kinky.

For an innocent who'd only just gifted his virginity to Magenta the night before, Fox had no problem letting out his inner kink.

Fox’s eyes lit up at the music, and if a cat could laugh, he was rolling with it. Then he waved his fluffy tail to the rhythm of the music, wiggling his ass.

I struggled not to chuckle, as I blasted out the dirty lyrics. Fox batted his long lashes at me, wiping his tail across his face like a veil. This time, I laughed.

Yeah, freak...and not a pet.

Honestly, Willoughby would make an epic backup…all right, duet… singer.

Could he dance?

It was more than fair to imagine that tight behind swaying as he sang.

I sighed, daydreaming my perfect band: Bask on bass, Fox on the drums, and Magenta on keyboards.

At least I already had a cat dancer.

Fox leaped onto his back, cycling his legs in the air. Was that meant to be sexy in a feline way? Then in a spray of glitter, Fox transformed back into a man, and my throat dried. I coughed, forcing myself to keep singing.

Yeah, it was seriously sexy.

Fox lay sprawled palely on the bed with his wavy white blond hair tumbling into his eyes and his bright blue eyes sparkling with joy. His pajamas had slipped down to reveal his slender hips. He was still doing that jackass dance move of his that was meant to be hot, but he was hot, even though he didn't know it.

He was clueless that he was about five seconds away from me ripping down his pants and showing him my own moves.

Four seconds...

I growled, dropping my guitar on the floor.

Three seconds…

Fox looked at me, startled. His arms and legs were still in the air like he was begging me to screw him.

Two seconds…

Fox would never have to beg. But my monster inside still wanted to break him.

One…