Rebel Academy: Curse

Chapter Ten SLEIPNIR

I hugged Magenta, and Bask clung around my neck, as we waited outside the gates of the castle for the Dragon Polo Tournament to begin.

Snow wept in fat tears from the night-time sky. I shifted, and my feet slipped on the slushy ground. When Magenta shivered, I rubbed my hands up and down her back to warm her.

Valhalla! This was it. Why did it feel like Ragnarok had befallen us?

I gritted my teeth, as my pulse thrashed in my ears. Was I the cause of our personal end of days?

After all, I'd started this chaos moment.

Was this why Loki had been frightened of me making friends because I’d destroy whatever I touched?

On the runes, not this time.

Monsters could love, as well as destroy, and I'd prove it. Magenta had taught me that lesson. She'd saved me, as surely as she was fighting to save our mage.

What would Loki think about the fact that I was in love with a witch?

Honestly, as soon as he got to know her, he'd adore her. Just like I did.

I blinked soft snowflakes out of my eyes, as I peered up at the gates. An aquamarine blur flew above the RA emblem. So much for Mist being curled safely in the East Wing.

The mischievous dick. But then, he was me.

Mist ducked behind a crack in the stone like he'd got away with his trick. When I arched my brow at him, he dodged out with a swagger. His sparkling mane and tail fluttered. It was kind of comforting that he was here.

Mist raised his head and snorted flames at the dragons, which were opposite us in a circle around Ambrose. My breath caught at seeing them together like this with their wings freed. Odin's breath, they were majestic. They pressed together, winding their necks to rub against each other with vibrating joy. How could anyone see them as nothing more than beasts?

What would it feel like to be separated from my brothers?

Rayn stretched out his wings, and his yellow magic wove to caress over Mist in response. Ambrose glanced up in concern, as he ran his hand over the leather saddles, which were strapped onto Rayn's brothers’ backs. I shuddered, wishing that I could rip the saddles off the dragons...or perhaps, put the saddle on Lysander, instead.

Except, Lysander would probably accuse me of leading him into kinky sex games.

I smirked. He'd know when I started doing that because I planned to wreck the virgin in all the fun ways.

When Bask's breath became ragged, and he pressed his face against my shoulder, I forced myself to reluctantly look out at the tournament's stadium, which had been magically created in front of the academy. Were we gladiators now? Hey, if they thought that I'd entertain them...well, they were right because I'd do anything to save my lovers.

But I could still scowl at the family and guardians who'd signed Blood Contracts to sentence their so-called loved ones to the academy. On the Norns, at least I was a hostage. Weirdly, I felt like the lucky one, especially when Bask was struggling not to tremble in my arms. He didn't want to show how much the bitch with red hair freaked him out.

The succubus Duchess, his ex-bond.

The Duchess' expression was like someone who'd never had to share their toys as a kid; she didn't have to share her playthings even now. There was no way in Hel that I'd let Bask become part of her toy collection again.

"You're mine," I breathed against Bask's silky head, breathing in his sweet scent of coco and almonds, "and you also belong to yourself. I don't care what your bitch of an ex says. You're a Rebel now. She can't touch you."

My brows furrowed in confusion, as Bask lowered his arms from my neck and took a step back. He shot me a sad smile.

"I don't have a choice, see," he whispered. "Don't you remember that I promised to behave for her? And look, it's pleased her to turn up for the tournament to watch me..."

Magenta's magic flared in a furious pink flurry, tinging the snow.

Dwarf on a pike, how had I forgotten that all this time Bask had known that today could be his last day wrapped in our love, before the Duchess decided if she took him away again to her incubi harem? That all along, he was in just as much danger as Fox or Magenta? How terrible had his conditioning been that he could hide his pain even from me?

Bask had more courage than any of us.

Magenta pulled away from me to clasp Bask's hand. "Be assured, we'll win this tournament and then we'll win your freedom as well. No one will ever cause suffering to my lovers or Rebels again. My mother started this academy, and I shall end it."

Bask's smile was shaky, as he rested his gloved hand on Magenta's cheek. "You romantic."

I chuckled, but then my expression darkened, as my gaze swept across our audience. Magically warm bubbles that kept out the snow had been spelled around a raised platform with dragon embossed thrones. The professors and VIP guests were tucked under crow feather blankets, blowing on hot chocolates with star shaped marshmallows.

Well, weren't they cozy?

Us students were freezing our balls off, but I felt just awesome about that because our guests were wrapped in pink and black striped scarfs, as they waited for us to battle in the freezing skies for their amusement.

Didn't Fox call that sarcasmese?

My hair bristled to red, and my werewolves howled. Mist galloped from one side of the gate to the other in agitation.

I studied the teenager, who sat ram-rod straight next to Juni.

Bor's balls, it was Willoughby's brother, Darby, who was the elven King. At least, he was now that he’d deposed Willoughby who was the rightful heir and sentenced him to be banished to the academy as penance. How much pressure would the Prince (who we'd claimed as ours), now be under? We'd all been forced to read his brother’s harsh letter, as well as witness Willoughby slaughtering their dad by accident, while trying to protect him.

I got Willoughby because he was a monster like me, and if he lost control of his power, then people died.

I was as sure of that as I was sure that I was falling in love with Willoughby.

I struggled every day with my own demons. Yet I'd had a dad who'd supported me, while Willoughby had a brother who hated him. The true kick in the ass was that Willoughby had raised his kid brother, loving him more than their dad had bothered to. Did he even now realize that his brother didn’t love him back?

My heart ached. Hel’s tits, I hoped not.

Juni caressed Darby's arm in an attempt to catch his attention, but his dark gaze was fixed on me like he was flaying me and reaching inside to violate my secrets. His expression was cruel in a way that Willoughby's never was.

His dark magic strangled mine. I ached to drop to my knees.

The asshole's lip twitched up at the corner...he knew.

I glared at him. Disturbingly, Darby looked just like a younger Willoughby with large sky-blue eyes and a cascade of sky-blue hair, which had crystals woven into it.

Wait, were those the crystals that Willoughby had been wearing in the memory I'd witnessed, which marked his official right to the throne? His mum had gifted them to him.

It'd rip out his heart to see them in his brother's hair.

Darby was literally wearing his brother's clothes. He'd stolen his Crown, sentenced his brother to punishment, and now was rubbing it in his face.

I was going to wreck the little jerk...

Footsteps crunched behind me in the snow, and I twisted around to watch the Princes marching towards the dragons. Could I help the way that my dick thickened against my thigh at their cashmere pink coats that hugged their figures so closely I was surprised that I couldn’t see their dicks? By Magenta’s soft sigh, I figured that her dick would also be hardening if she had one.

I shocked the Princes as much as myself, when I smiled at them reassuringly.

It didn't matter that in a couple of minutes we'd be rivals in the air. Right now on the ground, we were on the same team. Ezekiel had attempted to teach us that. The true predators were on dragon thrones, drinking hot chocolate and masking their dickishness and revenge with lies called redemption and reforming.

The Princes would never leave the Rebel Academy, any more than the Immortals would.

On the Valkyries, let Lysander see that, before it was too late to save his fae ass.

When Darby caught Willoughby's gaze, Willoughby stumbled, and only Lysander's arm around his shoulders stopped him falling. He grimaced with pain, before hurriedly masking it.

Was Willoughby hurting him with the cursed silk even here? Had his brother just punished him?

Juni's lips pinched, and she drew back from Darby. Mischief and mayhem, she knew that he had.

Beside me, Magenta stiffened. "As Flair would say, Darby needs his fucking prick turned into an icicle and then snapped."

Despite myself, I winced at the same time as Bask.

"The bad bastard would deserve it for hurting my elf." Bask glared at Darby.

Darby only tilted his head at him with a sneer, but Bask didn't look away. For the sake of his lovers, Bask could stand up to anyone.

When Lysander dug his fingers into Willoughby’s elbow and yanked him to Ambrose in a strict way that he hadn’t in days, I glanced at Magenta. Why wasn’t she threatening to pull down the academy on his ass or at least, coiling her mists around him like a threat?

Instead, she stood silent, curling her mists around Bask, as if she needed his support to hold her back. Why was she controlling herself?

I sure as Hel wasn’t.

Yet when I growled, Magenta’s eyes flashed.

She danced sparkles across my cheeks, until I turned to look at her, and the red fury receded. “It’s only a mask,” she muttered. “The Princes play a role to protect themselves. Have you forgotten our enraptured audience? Look who’s watching.”

I caught the satisfied smirk on Darby’s face, as he watched the manhandling of his brother, and I growled again. Now there was an elf who I’d keep on my shelf, just so that I could freeze his dick and then snap it off.

Flair was a psycho of a familiar, but sometimes, he was right.

Yet Magenta shook her head, gripping my chin with shaky fingers and turning me to look at the fae who sprawled in a throne next to Damelza. The Principal preened, running her hand through her hair like she hoped to catch herself a new husband.

I didn’t even want to think about what had happened to the first one.

“Lysander’s guardian,” Magenta shuddered, “Prince Titus.”

My eyes widened, as Fenrir clawed to escape, howling and scrabbling at me inside. Here was the asshole who Magenta had been almost forced to marry…the asshole who’d sent us on a mission that’d led to Hector’s death…the asshole who was patron to the entire academy…

The VIP asshole, who’d even locked up his own nephew and ward in the academy.

I bared my teeth, scrutinizing Titus. What was worse than losing your frozen dick? Because I was going to doubly…triply…wreck the fae.

Titus’ large wings were folded, and his neat emerald hair hung to his broad shoulders like an army of servants had spent all day making sure that it fell just right for fear of a whipping. He wore a rich silken black uniform, which was decadent but had the same steel behind it as his emerald gaze.

Dominant. Dangerous. Damaged.

He’d have been beautiful if I was into the hot daddy vibe (I could safely say that wasn’t my kink). Yet there was a coldness in his eyes like once he could’ve been Prince Charming but now, he’d been hollowed out and filled up with dickishness.

All that was left one was one big dick.

A golden scimitar hung at Titus’ waist, and I didn’t miss Lysander’s longing look at it.

Was it agony for a fae to be parted from their weapon?

Bask snatched my hand, at the same time as he grabbed Magenta’s. He twirled us around to face Lysander. He nodded his chin at him, pointedly.

Magenta’s death had been because of Titus. Yet even though her breaths were ragged, her gaze was hard and determined. She was seriously tough.

Loki would approve.

It was Lysander, however, who’d ducked his head. His wings quivered, as he snatched a riding whip and tapped it with a crisp smack — smack — smack like he was trying to beat the fear out of himself.

He was terrified, and even more frightened of showing it.

Titus was his brutal guardian. I’d grown up with love, but what had Lysander’s childhood been like under such a tyrant? Why had his own uncle sentenced him to be sent here?

What crime had Lysander committed?

Huh, I felt kind of weird even to care because a couple of days ago, I’d thought that Lysander was nothing but a haughty jerk who was out to impress his even bigger jerk of an uncle. Now, I noticed the tremor in his wings and how his fingers curled into Willoughby’s arms not out of cruelty but for support as much as chastisement.

Valhalla! Lysander didn’t love his guardian. He feared him.

How deadly was Titus?

Did that mean that Lysander had always desired to join us Immortals, but hadn’t been able to risk his guardian’s punishment? I hated that Titus had been keeping Lysander as my rival, rather than letting him melt into my arms, as well as Magenta’s, like he had as he’d danced with us in the Rebel Café. His tight ass, as he’d pushed it against me, was also hard to forget.

My pulse quickened.

I could break the wards, if I could convince him to rebel.

Couldn’t Lysander see that he’d never be accepted as a fae prince again? Titus wouldn’t let him leave Rebel Academy. He’d already lost his home, kingdom, and freedom.

Titus was lying to him, and he needed to stop lying to himself.

But hey, so did I.

As if knowing that he was being studied, Titus lazily turned his head and met my gaze. I froze. There was danger and death in his eyes; the hairs on my nape rose.

I wasn’t frightened. Neither Titus’ charm nor his threats worked on me. He wasn’t my patron or guardian. The asshole might intimidate his nephew but he didn’t intimate a god, and I’d prove it to him.

I raised my eyebrow at Magenta, and she nodded with a smile. I dragged her closer, before kissing her with a tenderness that spoke of a protective love and everything that Titus and the Duchess weren’t. It was a promise of eternal safety, as her tongue licked across the seam of my lips, before pushing into my mouth and dancing across my own tongue. She stroked my hip in tingling circles, and my balls ached.

Bask narrowed his eyes at the Duchess, who slopped hot chocolate onto her lap in shock, before licking down Magenta’s neck and sucking hickeys.

He loved to mark his lovers, and I didn’t blame him for being possessive tonight.

Both Magenta and Bask glowed, fed by our joined pleasure.

“Is the infernal scoundrel watching?” Magenta murmured against my lips.

I glanced over her shoulder.

Titus’s burning gaze met mine. His lips tightened in his ashen face. His hands clenched in the blanket in his lap, before he hurled it off him into the snow.

I chuckled. “He looks like he’s just been forced to suck a troll’s balls. The brat’s throwing a tantrum. Hey, look at that, so’s the bitch Duchess.”

Magenta’s lips twitched. “Excellent.”

Ambrose slipped out his whip and pointed it at us Immortals.

I’d thought that Ambrose and I had an understanding. Did the tournament open with a ritualistic thrashing? That’d be the sort of dickish thing that the House of Crows would enjoy.

For the first time, I was glad that Fox wasn’t here.

When Ambrose snapped the whip against the ground with a sharp crack, Bask jumped.

Willoughby and Lysander marched to stand like they were on parade in front of him like good little Princes.

Magenta and I exchanged a glance, before we drew back from each other, and strolled to join them.

Did they award Privilege Points for Best Slouch? I rolled my shoulders. I was going for it.

Bask would seriously win the best Best Slinky Ass Wiggle, as he sauntered to join us.

Ambrose grimaced, clearing his throat. "On my feathers, this is what I've been training you daft rascals to survive." He shot a glance at Titus on the platform, and his hand tightened on his whip. I didn't think it was possible for someone to hate our fae patron more than me, but hey, Ambrose was going for it. But then, he was a Seelie fae at the mercy of his natural enemy, an Unseelie. No wonder he'd been creative in making Lysander suffer in turn. "This is a contest, so no messing around up in the air. The first to three points wins. Our...respected...patron commanded a grand show. Aye, like I can pull that out of my..." He caught himself, biting his lip. "Nay, we'll show him. So, this is a phoenix hunt. Rebels are born out of flames. When you see the phoenix, burn it with your dragon's fire. Our patron demands to witness the excitement of rivals: Immortals versus Princes. Give him what he wants."

I didn't miss his warning.

When he stepped back, raising his whip, I tensed ready to dive in front of Magenta, but he didn't lash it down on us. Instead, as at his command, timber goal posts like gnarled tree trunks grew out of the castle turrets. The ground shook and rumbled. Willoughby staggered into me, and I righted him. Magenta gasped, doubling over. Her magic sparked.

"I can feel...his magic...rearranging my academy," she hissed.

I glowered at Titus, before twisting to watch as giant trees grew out of the back of the Groundskeepers cottage as well.

Ambrose pointed at the newly created pitch. "You swagger into my class, all of you. Now show our guests that same attitude in the skies. You're not broken, right?"

Us Immortals shook our heads, but the Princes stood as still as soldiers.

Ambrose shrugged. "I tried."

All of a sudden, Willoughby did move. He turned to Magenta, dropping to his knees before her like he was about to propose.

On the World Tree, was he about to ask her to marry him?

Not before me he didn't...

Yet before I could also throw myself into the snow, Willoughby grasped Magenta's hands between his. His eyes were emerald pools in the pale of his face.

"What on my wings do you think you're doing?" Lysander gasped, glancing underneath his eyelashes at Titus.

Willoughby continued to stare at Magenta like he hadn't heard Lysander. "It's dishonorable for me to take part in the tournament. Ask me not to fly. How can I? We're not rivals, and if I win, then you and Fox shall—"

"Stop making a spectacle of your royal self." Lysander tugged on his arm.

Willoughby looked torn. His gaze was anguished and confused.

Us Immortals had done that. We'd convinced him to break bonds with the Princes and become an Immortal, but how conflicted must he be?

He was in serious danger because of us.

Magenta firmly pulled him back onto his feet. "I shall ask no such thing of you. There's no dishonor. You have a duty to try to win, just as we Immortals shall do everything under the witching heavens to stop you. I shan't give Damelza or your brother the excuse to harm you." She stroked her thumb over the back of Willoughby’s hand. "What would happen to you, were you to refuse to fly in front of your king? Would it not be treason yet again to disobey his order?"

Lysander wrapped his arms around Willoughby's shoulders, pulling him away from Magenta. "He'd never do anything so foolish." He turned Willoughby around, shaking him. "Don't, Will, please."

Will...?

Just for a moment, Lysander's voice softened in his desperation to something loving.

"Will you leave off fussing? Your daft selves are being watched." Ambrose snapped the whip, and Bask jumped again. Immediately, Lysander pretended that he was simply smartening up Willoughby's coat, as he swept snowflakes from his shoulders. "Let's get you into the air in style."

All of a sudden, Berlin's "Take My Breath Away" burst out with all the romantic longing and welling passion of a joke that was worthy of Loki.

Magenta clapped her hands. "Oh, this popular music I like. It's pretty and makes me feel all floaty inside."

I arched my brow at Ambrose, who was smirking. "The Top Gun theme tune, seriously?"

"What, boy? A professor doesn't get to have a sense of humor?"

Bask huffed. "A dark one."

"A Seelie doesn't," Lysander added.

I winced. Baiting your professor was good teamwork with Bask, but crappy survival instincts.

Ambrose stalked to Lysander, tipping up his chin with the hilt of his whip. "Aye, right, but Unseelie do…?"

Lysander's eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought that he'd slap away the whip. Instead, he held himself still, when he noticed Titus' disapproving glare.

"My mistake," Lysander said, coolly.

Ambrose's lips curled up but only at one side. "Crave, go and claim your dragon."

Lysander's eyes clouded with confusion, but he watched as Bask slunk to Rayn, who held out his wing. Bask climbed onto it, and Rayn lifted him up, before settling him onto his back.

Lysander's mouth opened and closed several times like he was restraining himself from cussing, before he finally gasped, "First, you allow my dragon to escape, and then you give away my second beast to an Immortal…? Now they have the advantage."

"Nay, it must be my mistake because surely a Prince isn't afraid of some healthy competition." Ambrose shoved Lysander towards the remaining dragons.

Lysander squared his shoulders, before prowling to the side of the dragons. His new ride ignored him entirely and didn't lower his wing, but rather let Lysander struggle to pull himself into the saddle.

It looked like our code word Yellow Orchid was already working.

When Lysander fell onto his ass with a startled oomph, I hid my grin in the palm of my hand. It freaked me out that I had the sudden urge to rub his ass better; at least, my dick waved its pleasure at that idea.

When Lysander raised his riding whip, however, Willoughby caught it before it could fall and wrenched it out of his grip. Then he hurled it away into the darkness. Flushing, Lysander looked away.

Willoughby held out his hand, and Lysander grasped it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Willoughby helped him up onto his dragon, before his own dragon fluttered his magic around him to seat him into his saddle.

Magenta glanced at me. "I may be new to this, but aren't we riding?"

Here it comes...

My guts roiled.

It was time.

Inside me, my own eight-legged horse reared up, desperate to run and run and...

But it'd never saved dad or me. Hiding and running as the hunted, prey, or monster meant that you were forever caged.

What if the monster deserved to be seen?

Magenta's ice blue eyes were wide and understanding. I didn't need to hide anything from her.

"If I lose you or Fox…" By the runes, why was I shaking? "…then I'll stop breathing too because you're my life. So, we're going to win this. I'm awesome on land, but what you haven't seen yet, is that I'm even more awesome in the air."

Magenta's grin was like nectar to my Soul. It fed me as much as my pleasure ever had her.

I'd dreamed that I’d have friends who'd accept me. I'd never dreamed that I'd ever be loved by a woman like Magenta.

When Ambrose snatched me by the collar, however, it broke me back into reality. "Are you daft? You know the bastards who are in the audience."

"Care to narrow it down?"

"Titus." He dragged me so close that our noses were touching. "You'd let him see you as a...?"

"Shifter? Hey, I'm not ashamed anymore. I don't care what some stuck-up asshole thinks. If he sticks a cursed collar on me after this and forces Lysander to ride me..." Dick, now wasn't the time to think about Lysander’s strong thighs straddling me... "It'll be worth it."

"If he did that, I'd look after your daft behind." Ambrose stroked the back of my neck, and my eyes widened at the kind gesture. "I wouldn't let anyone ride you without your permission, even if I was punished for it."

He hadn't called me beast, and he'd meant it.

"Thanks, professor."

Ambrose's eyes widened to match my own.

Magenta giggled. "Splendid. Now kiss."

Instantly, Ambrose and I spluttered, reddening. We stumbled back from each other, and Ambrose wrapped his wings around himself.

Suddenly, transforming in front of...everybody...no longer felt like the most humiliating thing that’d happen to me tonight.

Magenta you sly...clever...awesome witch.

I took a deep breath, before glancing at Mist. In warrior red, like my hair, he whinnied his support. Then my magic wound around me. I drew it close, and it was thrilling to allow out what I'd hidden for so long inside.

In a spray of blue glitter that was like a resurrection and a magical orgasm (honestly, if you've never imagined the two, then you've missed out), I transformed into a giant eight-legged horse. The snow caught on my mane and tail, which glimmered like crushed stars. My coat was cinnamon red.

At the gasps of horror from the audience, I ducked my head and pawed the floor. Magenta reached up, however, to stroke behind my ear, and my ears raised from where they'd been flattened on my head.

I whinnied sadly.

"You're my monster." Magenta's magic cocooned around me like a claiming. "I love you. All us Immortals love you with a fierceness that burns away the pettiness of the world's prejudices. I'm privileged to ride you, but I rather fear that you're lacking wings."

I lifted my head with horsey swagger; it'd have to do for a smirk. Fox always managed to smirk in shifter form, but that appeared to be his talent.

My magic spun through me, ancient and powerful. I'd forgotten the thrill of letting go.

Feathery wings burst from my sides; the feathers glittered red, aquamarine, and pink. I beat them, and Magenta laughed as the wind blasted across her cheeks.

Bask beamed at me. "You are beautiful, Slippy."

Magenta feathered a light kiss to my muzzle. "You're like Pegasus. How fast can you fly or run with double the legs?"

Between worlds...

My heart clenched because nobody but Loki had ever seen me as anything but a misshapen creature who'd been born wrong. Yet Magenta thought that I was a more talented version of a gorgeous divine flying horse.

I'd thank her every day for the rest of my long life for that.

Ambrose circled me; his gaze was troubled. "Remember, first to three. I've done what I can, boy. Now it's down to you. I never want to collar a shifter as...glorious...as you. Don't make me." He stalked to the front of the dragons, who watched him with wary expressions, beating their wings. He raised his whip high into the air. "Your majesty, ladies and gentleman, and of course our respected patron, I welcome you to the Dragon Polo Tournament, which features Princes against Immortals. Start the tournament." He snapped the whip with a crack. "Fly!"