Rosemary Johns - Rebel Academy - Curse

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!"

I wasn’t a warrior but I was a brilliant dragon rider. Here’s the thing, it was all in the thigh muscles. Ma would’ve been proud. Incubi needed powerful thighs to wrap their legs around their lovers, as well as hold demanding positions. The training in the Incubi Harem was more sensually practical than squats alone.

It wasn’t only my arse that was flexible.

I gasped, as Rayn swooped above the frozen lake, which was like polished sapphire in the shadowed night. The Dead Wood beyond pulsed with ancient magic: Magenta’s pink magic, which ran through the academy. It provided mood lighting for the tournament. The scent of yew trees enveloped me, and the breeze was fresh and raw. Oxford’s spires and domes were a blur in the distance.

For the first time in ages, however, I ached with hope that my lovers could escape to that outside world, which wasn’t trapped in this eternal winter.

The snow drove into my face in freezing flurries, and I shivered, slipping on Rayn’s damp back.

Whoops…

I yelped, squeezing my don’t you wish you could feel them around your hips thigh muscles.

My breath became ragged, and my pulse thundered. My slinky self couldn’t fall and become nothing but an incubi shaped splatter on the lake.

Who’d save my lovers then?

I could die as many deaths as the Duchess wished, once she dragged me back to the Succubi Court (rejected, trained to burn myself, or refused touch as a Not There), but until then, I had to breathe so that my lovers would.

Incubi sacrificed everything for their lovers. It was this whole thing .

Rayn’s yellow magic fluttered around me, holding me safely onto his back.

Maybe I overstated just how brilliant I was at dragon riding. Modesty is not my middle name. Well, that could be because I didn’t have one…if I did, it’d probably be Pettable . Away with you, it would.

“If it pleases you, Rayn, don’t let me fall.” I stroked my gloved hand down his neck. “Don’t you desire to win this and beat those Princes for once?”

Rayn blew out a burst of golden flames in agreement, as he dived lower.

I smirked. I had this.

My cock and balls hit against Rayn’s back, as I bounced up and down on each swoop lower, and I bit my lip at each spark of pain-pleasure . Did the Princes wear special Dick Protective Gear for dragon riding? I bet their long… gorgeous …dicks and silky balls were sheathed in soft leather, while mine became as bruised as my ass ( the outrage ).

I wasn’t also squirming because my dick was enjoying the ride ( promise, snicker ).

Rayn swung his head around with an amused expression. I hadn’t known that dragons could even look amused.

I flushed.

A dragon is not a sex toy.

I should’ve remembered that because it was Number 133 on my List of Kink Rules. Plus, the joke was on Sleipnir because he’d rolled his eyes, when I’d added that one.

“It’s like this, see, you’re almost as comfy as my pillows.” I smiled, dreamily. “Nile would love you but he’d be jealous of your fangs.”

Rayn huffed out a breathy laugh, before twisting to show off his sharp teeth with smug bravado. He’d make as fine a man as a dragon. I wished that I could meet him like I had Marcus. Then he flew faster towards the castle, Sleipnir, the other dragons, and the start of the tournament.

This was it.

My pulse thrashed in my ears.

This. Was. It.

Sleipnir flew forward to meet me with slow, graceful beats of his multi-coloured wings, which glimmered under the moon-light. I craved to caress over his feathers. How soft were they? I bet that I could make a fine nest on his wing.

How could anyone call Sleipnir monster ? I'd never seen anything more beautiful and I admired myself in the mirror every morning (and it doesn't make me a narcissist if it's the truth; I read that somewhere).

My Slippy thrummed with magic and joy like showing his true self had unleashed him.

Would I ever be that free?

I blinked away tears. They were only snowflakes melting down my cheeks, nothing else.

An incubus didn't cry... Weeping made me ugly... Nobody loved an ugly incubus...

Magenta clung to Sleipnir's back. Her black mists curled around his red coat. They were connected like they were meant to be one, always and forever: death, life, and the line in-between. She had me beat on the thigh muscle method of riding, although I imagined her thighs were just as brilliant because everything about her was delicious.

I shivered but this time not at the cold, rather at the sight of the wickedest witch riding towards me, as her power rolled off her in waves of sparkling pink, on a feathered eight-legged horse with glowing eyes.

If they hadn't been on the same side as me, I'd have wet my pants.

For the first time, I was certain that us Immortals could win this. It was time to make the Princes wet their pants.

Bring on the wetting of princely pants.

As Sleipnir circled Rayn, Magenta grinned at me with a frosty darkness that chilled, as well as thrilled me. This powerful witch loved me, and we were going to battle together.

I glanced at our audience below on their thrones. The House of Crows, as well as its patron, Titus, and Darby desired power, but they'd never understand true power like my lovers wielded. Plus, I had a dragon between my legs, and that was enough power for me.

The Duchess looked so small from up here, when she'd always been taller than me. She'd loved to make me kneel, but for once, I was above her .

I'd never forget this feeling.

I longed to whoop . The sensation bubbled through me, until I shook.

Yet Rule 81 of the Incubi Night Codestated: In front of succubi, keep your arse pettable and your mouth shut.

My arse had always been pettable ( of course ), but I'd sucked at the second half of the rule.

Who was I kidding? My new code was the Rebel Code... and rebels didn't have a code, see, they had freedom.

So, I threw back my head and whooped like I'd never whooped before.

My face ached with my smile, as the wind blew across my cheeks and the moon broke through the clouds. Rayn roared, and Sleipnir gave an answering neigh, pawing at the air.

Magenta howled, just as psyched as me. Wildness vibrated through our magic, drawing us closer in our excitement. How'd we become the dangerous ones?

Perhaps, we always had been.

Together, us Immortals turned towards the Princes and their dragons, who were ranked in front of the castles' goals like this was a battle. Willoughby's expression was shuttered, and he remained composed and still. Lysander struggled to control his dragon, however, which weaved from side to side. He was ashen.