“You’re bait?” Fox questioned.
Sleipnir’s gaze turned frosty. “How about we at least give it the title of hostage?”
Over the summer, I’d asked Sleipnir why his da hadn’t ransomed him or brought down some Norse god wrath on the academy for taking him prisoner. It was the only time that I’d seen Sleipnir look so shaken that he hadn’t been in control. Sometimes, even I could be an idiot (startling discovery). Of course, my brilliantly versatile arse had saved me that night.
When Fox clasped Sleipnir’s hand, Sleipnir’s gaze shot to his, as his expression became warm again. Yet Fox still cast an uneasy glance at the bed, and I didn’t miss the way that he made love to the pillows with his eyes…
Yuck. I shuddered, officially withdrawing that image on behalf of my poor pillows.
Fox still looked set to snuggle into them like they were his heaven, even if there was something unsettled about the way that he shifted.
“I didn’t expect to get this cozy on my first night.” Fox nodded at the bed. “I may be Don Juan wrapped up in Romeo, with a touch of Lancelot and the charisma of Mr. Darcy,” I didn’t even attempt to smother my snicker, “but I still don’t share a bed with strangers.”
“We’re not strangers; we’re the Rebels.” Sleipnir raised their joined hands to show the brands on the back of them. I clasped my own over the top. It felt like discovering family, and my breath caught. “We share a bed because Bask needs the touch, right? But it’s your call. Whipping boys are traditionally meant to sleep on the floor anyway. If you’d rather not share with us…”
Fox yelped, as Sleipnir grasped his waist with a dangerous glint in his eye, attempting to tip him off the bed.
Oh no, he didn’t… This mage was my toy, and he slept with me. Just not with my pillows or Nile. All right, it wouldn’t kill me to spare one pillow.
I gasped in outrage, falling off Sleipnir’s lap and grabbing onto Fox’s arms to haul him further onto the bed, so that he was caught in a tug-of-war between us.
At last, Sleipnir gave up with a huff, and I smirked: an incubus always wins his prize. Then I wound my arms around Fox’s shoulders in victory, pushing him down (with great generosity), amongst the pillows. He sighed, wriggling around in their softness.
Yep, he definitely had a pillow fetish or maybe a satin one. I wouldn’t know until I checked out his underwear to see if it included panties.
Where there was an imagination, there was hope…and wanking.
All of a sudden, something glinted in the light. My brows furrowed. An amulet had worked its way out of Fox’s shirt in the struggle. When Sleipnir yanked at the amulet, Fox gagged.
“What in the Nine Worlds is this?” Sleipnir’s eyes blazed with a godly fury that had my toes curling.
Sleipnir’s eyes transformed from pink to glowing cinnamon red, just like his hair. The muscled arm that gripped Fox’s locket no longer glimmered with a sea serpent but snarled with a werewolf baring its fangs.
The mage was screwed because Sleipnir was pissed. And when he was pissed, he was a bad bastard, even for a god.
Fox cringed back. “Don’t…you’re not allowed to touch that. It’ll explode if you—”
“Drama queen.” Sleipnir’s hand tightened, and Fox panted. “By the runes, my dad told me that some asshole once bound him like this with a Blood Amulet, and it was the worst violation of his magic. But then, he always uses pompous words like that.”
Fox grabbed a pillow, clutching it to his chest like it could shield him from whatever haunted his past. Were they the same nightmares as haunted my own?
Why had I ever thought that I’d mind sharing my pillows?
I pinched my inner thigh, furious at my own incubus nature (curse my need for touch), but when Fox swayed, lightheaded, I wrapped my arms around him.
I wished that Voyeur Ghost was here. We needed her. I didn’t want to remember the other sort of touch, and how I’d begged for pain.
Sleipnir’s lips feathered up Fox’s jawline and then mine in sweet kisses, pulling us both back to a present that was joyful with casual magic and love.
“See, I’m a rebel, and you deserve to be wild and free.” Sleipnir yanked at the amulet, and it snapped.
Fox hollered, as his magic flooded through him. My eyes widened, and I was forced backward by the burst of power. Fox’s back arched. Then in a blue shower of sparkles, he shifted into an Arctic fox.
I brushed my hand through my hair because when shocked, there’s still always time to look your best. But no matter how beautiful I looked, it’d never be as beautiful as the Arctic Fox, which was bouncing up and down on its stubby legs and thrumming with magic and excitement.
And if that didn’t set off my incubus Envy-o-Meter, then it must be love.
Fox twirled in a circle to catch glimpses of his creamy fur and bushy tail. I’d have laughed if his admiring his own fur hadn’t made me glow with pride. There definitely weren’t enough mirrors in here. I’d have to send another petition to Professor Bacchus.
When Sleipnir hurled the Blood Amulet across the West Wing with scary accuracy into the brazier, the fire surged up to consume it. Then Sleipnir settled back onto the bed with a smug smile.
That was such a god thing.
I stroked behind Fox’s ear, and he cuddled into a tight ball on my lap. He was better than a plushie. This new student was the gift that just kept on giving.
Wait, did I just coo at him?
Sleipnir exchanged a glance with me, and I knew that there was another Rebel who I loved that Fox needed to know about, even if she’d already claimed him. “How about we introduce the ball of fluff to the final Immortal?” Fox’s ears twitched in interest and sleepy outrage. “I take it that since you’ve arrived, you’ve felt like you were being watched?”
Fox barked, licking my hand.
I knew that my brilliant lover would’ve watched over and chosen Fox, in the same way that I was protecting him. I’d felt her ever since I’d arrived, devastated and hurting last term. But she’d been there, allowing my worship.
Without her, I’d still feel worthless.
“That’s fox for: of course I’ve met the Voyeur Ghost or the Sexy Spirit. Either name is good.” I winked. “How about some specter loving?”
I gasped, as the scent of yew trees wound around me.
She was here.
A wintry breeze ruffled the fur down Fox’s back. Then icy kisses trailed down my neck. I arched, moaning. Hot and cold flushed through me, and the tips of my fingers tingled. I ached to trail them down her skin.
She hadn’t been able to stroke her frozen fingers down my sexy little body before. Was she growing stronger or was it because the mage had arrived?
I twisted, rubbing my thumb tenderly over the wall behind the bed.
Fox blinked his blue eyes with their long lashes, as Voyeur Ghost’s portrait (that I’d hidden by magic), materialized back onto the wall. Then he bounced off my knee and raised his tail, furiously gekkering.
It looked like a certain mage hadn’t yet worked out how to conceal or control his emotions in animal form. Instead, he worked on instinct.
That must’ve been freeing…and also made him look like a dick.
I sighed dreamily, studying my love’s portrait. The woman Mona Lisa smiled like she was watching me. She was beautiful.
How was it possible for the same person to look both innocent and wicked at the same time?