Rosemary Johns - Rebel Academy - Curse

Three cheers for an Oxford education.

Except, I was taking off one cheer for the leather that bound Midnight's broken wings, and the way that he was unable to curl his soft feathers around himself.

Willoughby's healing song had been stolen from him, and he hadn’t been able to set Midnight’s wings for him. I knew what it was like to have my shifter power suppressed by blood magic, but what would it feel like to have a power stripped away?

Yet even so, Midnight held himself still, rather than vibrating with anxious energy like me. It was only the somber darkness of Radiohead’s “How to Disappear Completely”, which crept through my Power of Confess like his depression shivered through my Soul, which told me that he was barely holding on.

I fought against the vines for a moment, desperate to hold him and be certain that he hadn’t disappeared yet. That he was still safe. I ached that I didn’t know better how to help him. I felt intensely how my skin pressed against his at my knee and along my arm.

He was still with me. I hadn’t lost him.

Let him know that I was still with him too.

Over Midnight's snowy shoulder, Bask sprawled on a lab table. I snorted. Of course, he'd take the back table, even to sprawl over. He was a bad boy rebel, after all.

Sleipnir pinned Bask’s hands above his head; his single strong hand encircled both Bask’s slim wrists.

Mist stood as dominantly as I’d yet seen him with his chest thrust out on Bask’s palm like he was the one holding him down; it looked like he was happily imagining his mane blowing in the wind.

Magenta stroked Bask's prick through his pants with an impressive determination, while Willoughby kissed him, slowly and thoroughly.

Bask was the one held down, but he was in charge. This was him claiming the elf, after Willoughby had been missing from our bonding last night. Bask was possessive like that.

A twinge of worry shot through me at the thought that the other Prince, Lysander, was still missing.

Could I help it if I imagined what it'd feel like to have Lysander’s elegant fingers palming my prick, while he kissed me, and his cherry blossom feathers stroked my cheek?

Okay, while his cherry blossom feathers stroked my prick ...

My prick did a twitching hello at that, as if answering Midnight's.

Midnight's tongue darted out to wet his lips, revealing a hint of fang. Then I noticed the smudged purple shadows under his eyes, and the tightness to his mouth. He looked exhausted.

He was disappearing even in front of my eyes.

If a Sleep Deprivation Hex were ever cast on me, I'd go crazy within a week. I needed my sleep to have the energy to...well, fail at everything.

But I wouldn't fail Midnight. For whatever reason, he'd chosen me as his king, and I took my royal duties seriously.

I pressed a light kiss to Midnight's lips, and he gave a surprised, happy sound that filled me with joy.

Truth:I never thought somebody would love me.

“I missed you and I thought of you when I was walled up in this academy’s luxurious…okay, dusty and rat-infested…walls.” Don’t disappear inside yourself. You’re needed. Midnight’s pleased smile was enough. I cocked my head. "Have you tested this hex then?"

Midnight looked down. "On my wings, it's hard to never sleep and have so much time to think," his voice was gentle with a soft Welsh lilt. "I only have so many good things to remember."

"You're with us Immortals now. Just watch the good times come rolling in. I promised to save you and I will." I pressed my bound arm more tightly against his. "I'm Champion of Pedantry; it means that I'm hated but it comes with perks like always being the smuggest person in the room and the ability to make anyone look stupid. So, sleeping : that's the state of being asleep, right? What about a cat nap? Meditation? Just a really epic zone out. My dad said I was brilliant at zoning out. I'm not sure it was a compliment."

Midnight's smile widened, but he shook his head.

My brow furrowed. "Okay, more extreme now but go with me here. How about knocking yourself unconscious? Do people sleep in a coma or...?"

This time it was Midnight quietening me with a kiss; his lips were soft, and when his fang caught at my lip, I blushed at the thought of how much I desired that he'd bite my lower lip.

Then heavy hands landed in my lap, before I was being pushed back from Midnight by something furry, swishy, and black. I spluttered, unable to bat it away.

Who knew there were so many disadvantages to bondage?

Something even heavier squirmed in Midnight's lap and mine, before curling around.

I found myself staring into the furiously protective eyes of my naked pussy nemesis: Bacchus' cat Halfling and familiar, Pocus.

I winced, as Pocus' claws bit into my chest, as if my nipples were pincushions. He shoved his nose against mine; his eyes were narrowed with predatory danger.

Hanging around with naked vampires was apparently my new thing.

"The mage is not harming my vampire, or I'll knock him on his silly curly head," Pocus hissed. "Pocus knew not to trust you."

What was it with my curls?

I pulled at my arms like I could smooth down my hair. Being shut up in the walls probably hadn't helped with its wildness.

Pocus was a lithe Korean vampire with striking black eyes and matching black ears that poked out of his mop of hair. His tail was right now wrapped around my balls. I shivered; I'd rather that a psychopathic pussy didn't have me by the balls. Unlike the Immortals, he didn't look like his torture of them would end in fun orgasms.

"And I always trust someone who grabs balls and talks later." I arched my brow. "I thought you liked my silky hair. Why don't you have another stroke?"

I shook my hair like it was a cat toy.

Come to the silky hair...

Pocus hesitated.

"Last chance..." I forced myself to hold still.

Pocus darted out his hand and carded it through my curls. Then he sniffed. "Pocus is still not impressed."

Pocus needs to be taken to the vets and neutered.

When I smirked, Pocus looked at me suspiciously.

"My king is helping me," Midnight's voice was steely, "and this is not a fair fight. You won't hurt him, just as you won't hurt the Princes."

Pocus sneered at me, before turning on our laps (and getting in a final twist of his claws). His tail thwapped me in the face again, and I got a closer look at his hole and the balls swinging between his legs than if we'd been lovers. I reddened. Then he settled, straddling Midnight, before shooting me a smug, possessive glance over his shoulder.

"But I protect you," Pocus insisted.

Truth: I'm sorry that I can't protect you.

Pocus had been at Bacchus’ side at the tournament, but he hadn't been able to stop the hexing.

He might be my nemesis, but how long had be tried to guard Midnight? Midnight had been alone apart from Pocus, and Pocus hadn't been able to do more than offer comfort.

But I still respected him for doing that. Very, very, very grudging respect.

Midnight's expression gentled. "Now I'm lucky to have more who care to protect me, see? Blood and bones, I never thought that I’d be so blessed again. Be pleased for me…?"

I heard the uncertainty.

Pocus wrinkled his nose. "Can I claw him a little?"

Midnight narrowed his eyes.

Pocus pouted, nuzzling his ears under Midnight’s chin. “Just a little?”

He fluttered his eyelashes, hopefully.

“I withdraw the right to stroke my hair,” I huffed.

Pocus hissed.

“You only claw him, if he wants you to,” Midnight admonished. Wants…? Midnight blushed. “On my fangs, you may enjoy it.”