Rosemary Johns - Rebel Academy - Curse

He was a sweet tasting trap.

Why was it wrong to wish to love this fae prince, even while I hated another?

Lysander pressed a kiss to my forehead with as much reverence as Bask ever had. “In his training sessions with me since the tournament, my guardian has made one thing brutally clear. My royal personage is forbidden to touch you, love you, or…” When his tongue darted out to wet his plush lips, I longed to catch it with my own. My skin was too tight, and my magic sparked. My nerves were on fire. “… kiss you .”

“Are you so afraid that Titus will hurt you ?”

Lysander snorted. “He’s already hurt me in more ways that you can conceive.” His wingtip stroked down my cheek, and he rested his forehead against mine. His hair veiled us both. Had we ever been this close before? His eyes were beautiful and so like Robin’s. “One fears only that he’ll hurt you .”

My eyes became frosty, and my fingers curled into the hard muscles of his shoulders. “Hecate’s tit, he’s already hurt me as well, and I shan’t ever allow him to do so again. You seem to be confused, so let me make it clear. If you choose it, you’re one of my Immortals, as much as Willoughby or Midnight. I won’t allow Titus to destroy our new love like he did my old.”

Lysander shuddered, as he closed his eyes, feathering kisses across my forehead.

Then he drew back and the depth of the love in his eyes made my breath hitch. “My uncle hates you, and he taught me to hate you as well, but damn my feathers, I love you .”

Lysander’s lips hovered over mine, just like Ghost Robin’s had.

Warmth pooled in my stomach. I’d go crazy…crazier…if he didn’t lower his mouth to mine and…

Yet he drew back, and his gaze was once more shuttered; disappointment crashed through me. “Are you truly naïve enough to believe that my guardian can’t still hurt you? There were courageous fae who thought like you. Their tribe were known as Rebel, and their young Lords were taken as hostages to our Fae Court to force the rest of the tribe to obey. To my childish mind, the bravery of those young Lords was admirable because they stood up to the Court Fae, when I couldn’t. Yet even so, when their tribe rebelled, they were sent to the Wicked Reform School. My guardian demanded that I…”

When he turned his head away from me, I nibbled along his jaw, and he reluctantly looked back at me. I was shocked by the glint of tears in his eyes.

“A Court Fae must obey,” he whispered, “and kill without hesitation. Yet my royal personage is weak .”

It was my turn to snort. “I’ve seen you face off with Juni.” I grimaced. “That takes a fae with…”

“Large wings?” Lysander smirked.

He rocked his crotch against mine. Witching heavens, his hard cock and balls definitely matched his large wings.

Were all fae so blessed, and did the size of wings always match with size of their manly parts?

I’d be careful not to mention my thesis around Bacchus, or she’d set it as coursework. Although, Fox with his not so secret Fae Kink would no doubt achieve a top grade and be exceptionally thorough at testing out the theory.

“ Strength ,” I replied.

Lysander’s expression once more became open and vulnerable. “Titus ordered me to execute the ringleaders.” I gritted my teeth. This was it. I’d never known why Lysander had been sentenced to the Rebel Academy but I’d known that it had to be something bad enough to depose him and for an entire kingdom to turn their back on a prince. After all, Willoughby was a killer and a traitor, even if only because of his inability to control his powers. Why had I expected that Lysander wouldn’t be? “My noble self refused.” I startled, staring at him with wide eyes. His lips turned up at one side in a lopsided smile. “To lay down your scimitar and refuse to kill in the name of your Court is a crime, but I wouldn’t become a murderer. That’s why I was sent here to be reformed into a true Court Fae.”

What in the name of Hecate…?

Lysander was as innocent as Sleipnir.

My guts clenched. Sleipnir would possibly punch a wall. Bask would curse Titus’ wings to malt, whenever he wore dark clothes. And Fox would cuddle Lysander and never let go.

Was this why Lysander resisted rebelling? After all, he’d witnessed a failed rebellion where fae had been punished and slaughtered.

Lysander drew back. “Did you expect me to be a killer, rather than one who failed to become a killer?”

I huffed. “Well, obviously. You have excellent predator vibes.”

Lysander inclined his head; his sharp teeth glinted in the light. “My noble self is all predator, witch, but I’m no fool. Were you not listening to my little tale? The Rebels were discovered, executed, and I lost…” He took a shuddering breath. Who had he lost? Wait, who had he loved…? “With deluded faith, one believes that it’s possible to reach a place where one can no longer be hurt, but it’s not true. There’s always something or someone else to take. One knows that you’re scheming to bring down the academy. You don’t need to tell me your plan because I trust you.” My magic sparked against Lysander’s in shock, but he lay his cheek against mine. His words gusted against my skin with a hollow fear that bled through me. “You’ve been dragging all us Princes into your plot, and we go willingly because we’re enthralled by you. Titus forbids me from loving you, but I can’t stop it any more than Willoughby can melt the ice flowing through him, or Midnight can fight his need for blood. Yet you’re leading us to our ruin; my royal personage knows because the past horror of the massacre still haunts me. If you continue to rebel, we’ll all become ghosts.”

I hung back in the shadows of the yew trees at the edge of Hecate's glade. At least, that was what I called hiding or stalking, either worked. Then I watched (muffling my gasps and pants in the woolen coat that Sleipnir had slipped around my shoulders and enjoying his warm scent), as Magenta indulged in intimate sexy times with a ghost and a fae.

My fae.

Woah, I appeared to have caught the possessive bug.

I'd searched for Magenta, after she'd done her witchy vanishing into black mists act (which always had my dick standing to attention), at the end of Bacchus' class because I’d been desperate to check that she was safe...okay, to sneak in some one-on-one sexy times with her myself.

When I'd found the shimage who'd come before me (or what remained of him) in the walls of the castle, I'd felt the connection between us. It’d drawn me to this glade, just as much as the pull of Magenta’s magic.

Everything came back to Hecate’s Tree.

Hecate’s dark magic was like a witch slap across the face to a mage.

I ached to run away before the goddess decided that my foxy ass needed a true spanking. Yet I ached even more to run towards Magenta because she meant safety, home, and love.

Then I hesitated because Magenta thought herself alone with her past, and if I threw myself out of the shadows like a naked stripper out of a hat — ta da, Fox is here! — I'd have spoiled her special moment.

I could practice my stripper moves for her later (Fireman Fox was popular), but right now, I had to hide inside the dark, cold, cake.