Rosemary Johns - Rebel Academy - Crush

Inexperienced as I might be, however, I knew that I’d prefer it not to include anything that controlled, hurt, or whipped me.

My gaze fell onto the leather whip, which was coiled at Ambrose’s waist.

Ambrose was a delicate, beautiful Seelie fae with emerald eyes that were bright against his alabaster skin and a matching steampunk uniform. His wings were golden like his hair. It didn’t look like he’d have had the strength to have survived as a Rebel and then to have been offered the role of professor.

Yet appearances were frequently deceptive.

Most people, for example, couldn’t even see my familiars, but Flair and Echo were loyal, brave, and possibly psychopathic.

They were perfect.

But then, nobody’s perfect, and what’s a ghost if not nobody ?

“You know that I won’t touch any of those torture devices,” Sleipnir growled, “or are you getting ready for a seriously kinky party?”

Ambrose twirled around, startled. His wings spread out like he was trying to hide something…or someone.

Hecate’s tit, did he have a lover saddled up behind him?

Snap my broomstick, let it be Ezekiel.

Then I gagged as I imagined Bacchus being ridden, instead. Although, I rather thought that it’d be karma for her treatment of Pocus.

“You’re early, boy.” Ambrose snarled in a Scottish accent that thrummed with such dominance that my knees almost buckled.

His gaze darted between us, as we strolled closer.

“ You’re late, Prince Ambrose,” Sleipnir threw back.

Ambrose’s wings drooped. “Are you ever going to call me professor ?”

Sleipnir grinned. “Are you ever going to free all the shifters?”

Fox raised his hand. “Is this flirting session open to all of us or do we need to take turns with the sexual tension?”

Ambrose’s expression darkened, and he reached for the whip at his belt.

“Da!” A small, pale face peered around Ambrose’s legs.

My eyes widened. Ambrose had been trying to hide Ty, his son, a tiny fae boy with golden hair that curled behind his ears and jade eyes. He wore a plain green coat and leggings, but he wasn’t a full fae because he had no wings.

Ambrose blanched. Instantly, he reached down to draw Ty, his son, closer against his leg like he needed to protect him against us. His hand shook.

My guts roiled. Byron had attempted to hide Robin throughout his childhood in the same way, every time that he knew Robin was in trouble. It would usually end in the both of them receiving a whipping, but Byron couldn’t stop the impulse to step between the mage and the witch professors.

My breath caught. Robin had become my best friend, but had father seen him as a son?

“Will you report me?” Ambrose said, stiffly.

“Why are you making da sad?” Ty demanded, tightening his fists in Ambrose’s pants. “I’ll f-fight you, if you h-hurt him.”

“Enough of that,” Ambrose hissed, swinging his son into his arms and wrapping his wings around him. “These students…” How much had he been struggling not to say rascals? “…Are your kind patrons in the academy. They’re good.” Ambrose looked like he was trying to force himself to feed his own son poison, and my stomach twisted. “Show them some respect.”

Ty blinked away tears. “Aye, da. But I want the elf. He’s good.” I blinked. If only Darby could hear that it was the killer , with whom the child felt safest. “I’m s-sorry, sir.”

“Chill out, short stuff, we’re cool.” Sleipnir shot me a troubled glance, before crouching in front of Ty. When he held out his hand to Ty, it was Ambrose who flinched. Sleipnir snorted. “Fae might be asshole enough to hurt kids, but I won’t.”

Reluctantly, Ambrose loosened his hold on Ty, who crept out from behind his father.

“I’d never report you,” I assured Ambrose. “Would it be for the song about snowmen? Is it some type of incantation?”

Ambrose stared at me. “Are you mocking me?” His translucent skin pinked. When I merely arched my brow, he slapped his hand against his thigh with a crisp smack . “Nay, unless Frozen has enchanted the world, which is admittedly possible. Ty isn’t allowed to be seen. But it was my daft self who risked it, which means that if there’s punishment…”

“Yeah, it’s all on your ass, we get it.” Sleipnir held out his hand again to Ty.

When Ty grasped it, Sleipnir’s hair softened to candy pink. A serpent tattoo coiled down from beneath his coat, shimmering and alive, to dance along the back of his hand, flickering its tongue at Ty’s fingers. Ty giggled.

“Da, look! A snake!” Ty’s bright eyes raised to Ambrose’s.

Ambrose’s lips curled into a smile; it was a good look on him. “Aye, but now it’s time to go to your room.”

Ty’s face scrunched up like he was about to cry, but then he slowly withdrew his hand from Sleipnir’s. Just for a moment, I regretted that this resurrected body couldn’t bear children. Sleipnir would’ve made an admirable father.

Our godly ghost children, however, would’ve been a handful.

Ty turned and ran inside to the stable block. Ambrose watched, until the door banged shut. Then he spun back to us, and his expression hardened. “Fetch your dragons. It’s tradition to ride to the ruins.”

Bask wandered to the barred stalls. “Rayn, it’s petting time.”

When Bask stuck his hand through into the darkness, my heart beat so hard against my ribcage that I thought it’d burst. I doubled over, and my mouth became dry.

Don’t let the dragon fry his hand, gobble it, or make it into a tasty finger food treat.

Sleipnir merely slouched to his feet, however, as my magic burst out ready to yank Bask to safety.

A dragon pushed its smooth golden head against Bask’s hand; its neck was sinuous. I caught a glimpse of its bat-like yellow wings as it shifted closer to the front. Ethereal magic fluttered around it. Then it nuzzled against his hand gently in a dragon kiss.

Ah, this was the Snuggle Dragon who matched Bask, much like Mist did Sleipnir.

Did that mean my crow familiars suited me? Wow, what an awful thought.

Bask stroked Rayn. How lonely were the shifters?

When I caught Sleipnir’s sad gaze, I finally understood. This could be Fox and him in these barred prison cells.

Ambrose marched to Bask, hauling him away from Rayn. “He’s Lysander’s dragon.”

Bask’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Would you take it easy? Don’t I at least get to choose how I ride to my death?”

Ambrose’s hand dropped to the hilt of his whip; his knuckles whitened. “How about you rascals listen to me, and then I don’t have to lose any more students?”

Bask nodded, avoiding his gaze.

Ambrose glanced between us. “The Gateway in the ruin is both a weapon and like a library’s database to other realms and even alternate realities. None of you have seen a fraction of its power.”

I crossed my arms. “As the new girl, I haven’t seen anything. So, we’re meant to step through something that’ll take us on a mission to do what, precisely?”

Fox bounced on his toes. “New boy here as well. Voldemort won’t be waiting for us, hissing our names like the noseless naughty boy that he is, right?” Ambrose simply leveled him with a blank stare. Fox shuffled on his feet. “What?”

“Have you forgotten that I’m your professor or that I can still sentence you to detention?”

Fox licked his dry lips. “I knew that there was something that’d slipped my mind.”

When Ambrose prowled to Fox, raising the hilt of his whip to tip up his chin, I stiffened. “Then you’d best not forget this, whipping boy , it’s your life at stake. If your Wing fail this mission, then you’ll be executed.”