Rosemary Johns - Rebel Academy - Crush

He was ours now, just as much as our whipping boy.

All of a sudden, Fox let out a wail and dived towards his snowcat, which had fallen over to the side. Its mouth had blurred into a frown, its ears had melted, and its nose had dropped off.

Fox patted it sadly on the shoulder. “Farewell Leader of the Abominable Snowcat and last of your kind. You were once a good mate but soon, you’ll be nothing but a puddle and then, I’ll enjoy jumping in you.”

Sleipnir straightened from his slouch. “Nothing melts here.”

Magenta’s eyes widened, before she glanced at the way her mists curled around Willoughby and me.

Willoughby’s love must be breaking the Membership and the academy’s curse.

Would it be enough…?

Yet the rest of the grounds were still deep in snow, and the snowflakes still drifted from the clouds.

“I would say a few words to mourn your friend’s passing,” Willoughby said (I kissed the tip of his nose just because I loved to hear the easy way that he now bantered without Lysander guarding him), “but we’re all meant to be gathering in the Rebel Café.”

Magenta cocked her head. “All as in Princes as well as Immortals…?”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Sleipnir growled.

Willoughby clasped his arms around my middle. “Juni ordered us to join you in a final hour of Compulsory Relaxation before your mission. I was meant to find you and tell you after my skating.”

“Why do I feel that relaxation is a euphemism for torment ,” Fox said, wiping his damp hands down his coat.

“Oh no, we’ve already had Torment Thursday,” Magenta said merrily. “I’d imagine that this will be more like a terrifying chore with some angst mixed in. After all, Lysander shall be there.”

“Midnight as well,” Fox added.

There was one Prince and his whipping boy to tempt to our side, and I’d already proven that my arse was tempting.

“Giants and dwarves, a whole hour trapped in that crazy café,” Sleipnir gritted out, “with the prince who’d win a contest for the Least Relaxed Asshole ever, and I mean that both ways.” I snickered. “Honestly, I’m stressed enough about the mission that we’ll end up killing each other way before the hour’s over.”

“Surely we can use the time to learn more about each other.” Magenta exchanged a glance with Sleipnir, and his eyes glittered with understanding. Did she mean to discover ways to wreck them or to love them? It wouldn’t hurt to treat ourselves to a wee bit of both…? “In case I haven’t been clear: we’re all surviving.”

Yet why did the witches want to lock us together for an hour? My incubi senses prickled that there was something more dangerous planned than hot baths, dancing, or sucked dicks.

When I rested my head against Willoughby’s chest, I could hear his heart thudding a beat that was as rapid as mine.

What secrets would the next hour reveal and would we survive?

One thing that the son of Loki didn't do well in the face of danger was relax. On Tyr's ass, this hour of Compulsory Relaxation with the princes was going to suck .

Jormungand, my brother, was always better at indolence and napping. Fenrir burned with hot-tempered protectiveness. It didn't matter that they both lived inside me because right now, I was myself.

Plus, I feared for my lovers, despite Fenrir's howled excitement for the wild risk of the mission.

The thrill vibrated beneath my skin, but I held it inside because I also ached with grief. I missed Hector. I hadn't loved him in the same way as Bask because I kind of didn't think that I honestly could feel like he did.

Omens and runes, I swear that Bask laid his heart on a silver platter for every monster to devour.

Including me.

Now for the first time I did love, however, and I was terrified that death would claim the other Immortals on this mission.

Yet if it did, I'd break through the veils and resurrect them. After all, my magic had already worked once on Magenta. I wouldn't lose any of them.

Wasn't that love?

Relaxing with the Princes, who'd won the right to send us on this mission in a dickish game of magical Russian Roulette that’d poisoned Bask, wasn't my style.

It was time for Lysander to taste his own medicine. I'd create my own chaos moment.

I slipped off my blazer, tossing it over the back of the suede sofa in the Rebel Cafe. Then I slowly rolled up my shirt sleeves over my muscled forearms.

Hey, I took what intimidation tactics I could get.

Except, the way that Magenta's pupils dilated and she scooted closer to me on the sofa, until our thighs were touching (which sent sparks shooting directly to my hardening dick), looked less like intimidation and more like desire.

Huh, I'd have to remember that trick.

Ian Brown's ghostly "Corpses in Their Mouths" boomed from the walls with its thudding beat and seductive harmonica, which only made my dick harden further. Had Serenity, who'd been magically created to run the café, become confused and fixed the settings to Screw rather than Relax?

Please don't let this be her hint that she wanted to play voyeur at an orgy.

What had I ever done to deserve this AI's crush? On fear of Valkyries, don't answer that.

Fox leaned against the sofa, and Midnight curled his beautiful ash wings around him. Of course, Midnight was naked. Did the princes ever allow their whipping boy to wear clothes?

Could I help it if I admired the view?

Willoughby sprawled on the floor, which’d softened to carpet, with Bask on his lap. Willoughby’s arms were tightly looped around Bask’s waist like he was scared that he'd be snatched away from him. Ever since their moment beside the lake, the elf hadn't wanted to stop touching my incubus.

Lysander paced from one side of the room to the other like a pink and black caged tiger. He cast confused glances at Willoughby and then Midnight. He’d blink, before glancing disbelievingly at the way that his Prince and whipping boy were cuddling Immortals.

I smothered my laugh against Magenta's shoulder, before glancing up into her dancing eyes.

The Membership was breaking down, so it was time to break a fae prince.

I brushed my lips against Magenta's ear, and she shivered. "How about we hunt a prince?"

Her gaze became knowing, and she nodded.

By the Norns, she was wickedly smart. Loki would approve.

All of a sudden, the walls swirled with pictures of giant puppies.

"Odin's cock..." I recoiled because it was like being drowned in cuteness. "Serenity, this isn't relaxing."

"You mean that you're stressed, godling," Serenity's Welsh voice crooned from the walls. "It’s been proved that dogs calm people."

I clenched my jaw. "I'm not calm right now."

"That's right: admit to your emotions!" Serenity said, brightly. “How about a good cry!”

"No dogs,” I growled.

Bask pouted, "Don't take away the puppies."

Willoughby stroked Bask’s hair in consolation. He already had his own pet.

Fox pointed at Bask. "How can you say no to that face?"

I narrowed my eyes. “Practice.”

The puppies vanished from the walls, which softened to indigo, and Bask whined.

"Stroke my pussy!" Serenity chirped.

"I beg your pardon?" Magenta spluttered.

"I meant, stroke a pussy. As long as you're not allergic to cat hair, mind." Serenity's voice became sly. "Why don't you use your own pussy?"