Truth: Please let somebody love me.
I watched in fascination as a tree spread around the words in crackling pink-tinged icicles.
“Beautiful.” Bask’s breath ghosted across the glass. “What do you want? Are you a sphinx?”
Sleipnir snorted. “Not unless they also used to run the academy.” He vibrated with pain and disappointment. My feline side longed to rub against him in comfort. He waved his hand with a languid disinterest at the mirror that I no longer believed. “It means that Magenta’s from the House of Crows, just like Damelza. This is what comes of trusting a witch.”
A blast of wind howled in outrage down the corridor. I clutched Bask, staggering under the freezing onslaught. Then the mirror shattered in a thousand shards, flying like ice crows from the frame to slice me bloody.
Chapter Ten
BASK
I tweezed the last shard out of Fox’s palm; I winced, even though he didn’t. He’d only saved his gorgeous face by throwing up his hands in time. He hadn’t flinched or even cursed me out, during the whole time that it’d taken to rid his palms of glass. Maybe he’d been trained to take pain as well?
Beg me to let you burn yourself…
I shuddered, clinging to Fox and forcing back the memory of the Duchess. She didn’t have a right to haunt my sexy self any longer; now I had Magenta. But then, my Spooky Snookums had hurt Fox (who was studying me like he could see even the ugly parts of me that I usually hid behind my beauty), and my own love for her frightened me.
Could you die from the aching beat — beat — beat of your own heart?
I preened. Incubi could do romantic gestures better than anyone: I could die of a broken heart…or the curse of the Exploding Pleasure Dick.
I snuggled with Fox on a suede sofa in the center of the Rebel Café, which was outside the castle in the grounds. Holograms of the ocean washed across the walls, along with the soothing crash of waves. The café had been built to relieve the stress of students in their free time. Professors used it as a privilege that could be taken away or granted as a reward. Serenity, who’d been magically created to run the café, had a wee crush on my Sleipnir, which meant that we could sneak in here like now, rather than risk the professors discovering our secrets.
I shuddered at the thought of letting Bacchus know why Fox was injured. It didn’t matter who Magenta truly was, she was still mine, and I’d save her. Witches were never imprisoned as Rebels, so why had they placed Magenta’s portrait in that gallery?
Once an incubus loved, they were loyal until death. It was a thing.
Fox was still watching me like I’d been the one to be sliced as if with the death by a thousand cuts. I frowned (and no one loved a frowning incubus), before carrying out a quick check: arse pettable, hair shiny, and lips kissable.
This incubus was sizzling.
Then I flushed, uncomfortable. Was my whipping boy distressed because I didn’t protect him or because Magenta had turned out to be a Crow? I’d seen his file, and along with the cute-as-a-button baby photos, I hadn’t been able to miss the cruelty by his family.
It looked like it was time for a certain ruby-eyed Immortal to show him that pleasure could heal pain.
Fox’s eyes widened in cute surprise, as I clasped his wrists, slamming them against the sofa. Then I straddled him, pushing him down amongst the sofa’s cushions that softened in response. As if Serenity sensed the change in mood, the lights dimmed. I sighed; this was the cuddliness that I needed. When Fox’s hard-on pressed against mine, my eyelids fluttered at the sensation. Inside, my powers built like champagne bubbles: sparkling and fresh. I panted, licking across Fox’s jaw and tasting his tangy blood, at the same time as I breathed in his delicious scent of raspberries.
If I could build my powers, then I could heal Fox. Here’s the thing, incubi have the talent of healing but only if they charged themselves first by giving pleasure (such a hardship, snicker). If I healed Fox, then Bacchus wouldn’t discover about Magenta.
I could protect both my new lovers.
“By Tyr’s ass, stop wriggling against each other like eels and help me plot how to summon a ghost who doesn’t seem to know her own dickish strength,” Sleipnir snarled.
Mood. Officially. Killed.
Sleipnir paced from one side of the café to the other. His hair cycled between pink, red, and aquamarine so fast that it hurt my eyes. Even I didn’t mood swing that badly, and I’d been told that I could be one changeable hottie (unbelievable, right?).
I treated myself to a final stroke of Fox’s curls, whilst he treated himself to a cheeky squeeze of my ass, then I settled myself in his lap with a satisfied wriggle.
If Sleipnir wanted an eel, then I’d give him one.
Sleipnir appeared torn apart by his thoughts on Magenta. He already had hang ups about witches, and it looked like it was down to my pettable arse to help him over it. My deliciously divine Magenta might not know her own strength, but every one of the Rebels had faulty powers. It was why we’d been sent here. Why would she be different? I could convince him.
See, I could be resolute. Ma called it stubborn, but it was a trait of the Night lineage. Definitely resolute.
All of a sudden, the room pulsed to a calming green, and a steaming bath with petals floating on top appeared in front of Sleipnir. The cloying scent of roses suffused the café. Sleipnir grunted with shock as he tumbled forward, splashing into the oily water headfirst. He spluttered to the surface, kneeling back on the floor with his hair plastered across his face in the brilliant impression of a wet dog.
I snickered, and Fox hid his chuckle against my neck. Woah, that tickled.
“A hot bath is just right to ease your stress, godling,” Serenity’s Welsh voice crooned from the walls, as if her aim was to make Sleipnir come from her voice alone. Everybody had to have a goal in life. “It’s usual to take your clothes off first, mind.”
Serenity was a minx.
Sleipnir wiped his wet hair out of his eyes, as water dripped down his neck. It was such a waste that I didn’t get to lick it off. “I’m a god, and it’s usual to ask if a guy wants to bathe first.”
“That’s right: assert yourself! But remember, I’m here to reduce your stress, so I’m only responding to your own needs. So, how about a quick wank to relieve the tension?”
Fox shook underneath me with silent laughter.
Sleipnir blinked. “Did you just say…?”
“Smile,” Serenity continued with pretend innocence, “I said: a quick smile. Come on, it’ll help. Scientists have proved that if your face thinks you’re happy, then your brain will be as well.”
“Awesome,” Sleipnir muttered (my sarcastic godling), “now she’s getting all scientific on my ass.”
When the bath vanished with a pop, Sleipnir’s shoulders slumped in relief. He pushed himself up, growling at the way that water slipped down the front of his shirt. I always forgot how hot he looked when wet like Darcy in Pride and Prejudice emerging dripping out of the lake if he’d somehow discovered punk rock.
“Does someone need a hug?” Serenity offered.