Relaxing with the Princes, who'd won the right to send us on this mission in a dickish game of magical Russian Roulette that’d poisoned Bask, wasn't my style.
It was time for Lysander to taste his own medicine. I'd create my own chaos moment.
I slipped off my blazer, tossing it over the back of the suede sofa in the Rebel Cafe. Then I slowly rolled up my shirt sleeves over my muscled forearms.
Hey, I took what intimidation tactics I could get.
Except, the way that Magenta's pupils dilated and she scooted closer to me on the sofa, until our thighs were touching (which sent sparks shooting directly to my hardening dick), looked less like intimidation and more like desire.
Huh, I'd have to remember that trick.
Ian Brown's ghostly "Corpses in Their Mouths" boomed from the walls with its thudding beat and seductive harmonica, which only made my dick harden further. Had Serenity, who'd been magically created to run the café, become confused and fixed the settings to Screw rather than Relax?
Please don't let this be her hint that she wanted to play voyeur at an orgy.
What had I ever done to deserve this AI's crush? On fear of Valkyries, don't answer that.
Fox leaned against the sofa, and Midnight curled his beautiful ash wings around him. Of course, Midnight was naked. Did the princes ever allow their whipping boy to wear clothes?
Could I help it if I admired the view?
Willoughby sprawled on the floor, which’d softened to carpet, with Bask on his lap. Willoughby’s arms were tightly looped around Bask’s waist like he was scared that he'd be snatched away from him. Ever since their moment beside the lake, the elf hadn't wanted to stop touching my incubus.
Lysander paced from one side of the room to the other like a pink and black caged tiger. He cast confused glances at Willoughby and then Midnight. He’d blink, before glancing disbelievingly at the way that his Prince and whipping boy were cuddling Immortals.
I smothered my laugh against Magenta's shoulder, before glancing up into her dancing eyes.
The Membership was breaking down, so it was time to break a fae prince.
I brushed my lips against Magenta's ear, and she shivered. "How about we hunt a prince?"
Her gaze became knowing, and she nodded.
By the Norns, she was wickedly smart. Loki would approve.
All of a sudden, the walls swirled with pictures of giant puppies.
"Odin's cock..." I recoiled because it was like being drowned in cuteness. "Serenity, this isn't relaxing."
"You mean that you're stressed, godling," Serenity's Welsh voice crooned from the walls. "It’s been proved that dogs calm people."
I clenched my jaw. "I'm not calm right now."
"That's right: admit to your emotions!" Serenity said, brightly. “How about a good cry!”
"No dogs,” I growled.
Bask pouted, "Don't take away the puppies."
Willoughby stroked Bask’s hair in consolation. He already had his own pet.
Fox pointed at Bask. "How can you say no to that face?"
I narrowed my eyes. “Practice.”
The puppies vanished from the walls, which softened to indigo, and Bask whined.
"Stroke my pussy!" Serenity chirped.
"I beg your pardon?" Magenta spluttered.
"I meant, stroke a pussy. As long as you're not allergic to cat hair, mind." Serenity's voice became sly. "Why don't you use your own pussy?"
"How personal." Magenta crossed her arms. "Use your own. Oh yes, you don't have one."
Ouch.
The lights dimmed, and Midnight tightened his wings around Fox.
Could a Stress Counselor go postal on her students' asses?
Fox glanced around with an adorable attempt to look stern. "As the actual cat, I veto all talk of playing with pussies."
When Midnight chuckled, Fox silenced him with a kiss.
Lysander's lips pinched like he might be the one to go postal instead.
Time to kick off the chaos moment.
I cracked my knuckles, and Lysander winced. Now that was stress relief.
"How about we play a game?" I said as casually as I could. "Princes against Immortals, and not a pussy or puppy in sight, I promise."
Magenta clasped my arm; her glove was cool against my warm skin. "What fun!"
"Your concept of fun has so far not tallied with my own," Lysander said, dryly.
"How do you know?" Magenta arched her brow. "You've never truly had fun with me, or you'd be begging for more."
Lysander stopped pacing and flushed. "A prince does not beg."
What was the bet that Willoughby had begged last night...?
I tilted my head. "Do you want that asshole guardian of yours to be proud of you on Saturday?"
Lysander shot me a wary glance. "Obviously." He hugged his arms around himself. Did he even know that he was doing it? "But he won't because the Princes lost the Rebel Cup. How can I show him that I'm reformed, if I don't even have the honor of starting the Dragon Polo Tournament? If I don't achieve well in the academy, then I shan't return to my own kingdom. If I never rule, then I can never overthrow the archaic and cruel rules and save my people." His lips twisted into a sneer. "Sorry, was that nobler than you were expecting from an Unseelie Fae?"
Honestly, yeah...
I steadily met his gaze. "I was only looking for a yes or no."
Lysander launched himself towards me, but Willoughby tumbled Bask off his knee, as he leaped up to block him. To my shock, Willoughby gently rested his hands on Lysander's shoulders.
"That's right, massage out the tension," Serenity encouraged. "Really work those shoulders, chest, wings, tight ass, dick and balls..."
Lysander jumped away from Willoughby with a snarl.
Hunting princes was fun.
"I'm sorry that I've made you feel that I don't believe you noble," Magenta said. Lysander's eyes widened, and his breath quickened. He looked like he couldn't decide if he wanted to step closer to Magenta or back away. "If starting the Tournament is so important to you, how about we give you another chance to win it back?"
Lysander ducked his head, and his hands clenched into fists. "What else do you wish to strip from me? What more must one lose?"
"Nothing." Magenta's eyes were soft with sadness.
"Chill out," I eased to the edge of the seat, "just play a game with us. As long as you don't back out, then at the end of this hour, you've won the right to start the Tournament, right?"
Bask and Fox nodded.
Lysander took a single pace forward, ensnared. "What's the catch?"
Magenta sprawled back on the sofa. "No catch."
Midnight pushed himself to his knees, dragging Fox with him. His charcoal eyes shone, and his fangs glinted, as he smiled.
"On blood and bones, it'll be a fine thing to play. I haven't in ever so long." Midnight's wings quivered with joy. It was epic that it wasn't with fear for once. His glance at Lysander was achingly hopeful. "May I, my prince?"
Lysander tilted up his chin. "Why are you talking to me? I grant you one leniency and look where my lack of discipline leads." Midnight's hopefulness died, and his wings wilted. "Silence for the rest of this hour. Of course whipping boys aren't included."
Asshole.
When Fox rose to his feet, his furious magic prickled across my own. The fae had no idea how close he was to Fox’s hedgehog shifter form breaking out, and that’d be embarrassing for all of us, especially if any of the Princes dared to coo. I winced.