"An incubus may raid a princes' underwear drawer." He swept the panties back in. "Away with you, if Lysander was shy about it, he'd have found an Immortal-proof hiding place."
"Like his private bedroom in a Wing of the castle, which is both forbidden to and warded against Immortals?" I deadpanned.
Bask tried for the innocent face; he was decidedly good at it. "Exactly."
When he slid the last of the panties back into the drawer (and I shivered at the thought of next seeing Lysander and not glancing at his behind to imagine him wearing them because surely they rode up under his tight trousers to wedgie in the most uncomfortable of places?), he knocked a button.
To my shock, music blasted out, which sang hauntingly of snowmen and a desire to build them. I recognized it as the song that Prince Willoughby often sang, yet I still had no understanding why he was so intent on playing in the snow.
Did elves miss out on their childhoods, and so still yearn to play?
I'd gladly show Willoughby how to build a snowman because Robin and I had stolen away on many winter days to build snowsquirrels beside the lake. He’d transform into his red squirrel form and sit on top of his snow brother, wrapping his tail around it and chattering.
"Willoughby adores to sing this in the shower," I pointed out. When Bask raised his eyebrow, I flushed. "And I discovered that in some entirely nonperverted way, of course."
"I can’t even lie that I’d like to believe you because I wouldn’t."
I gasped in mock horror. "For shame! My familiars have simply watched him in the shower. They report that he has a voice, which is as beautiful as his prick."
It was a wonderful sensation to watch the blush creep up Bask's neck. I wished to lick up it and across the blooming pink of his cheeks.
He swallowed. "Not pervy at all."
I smiled. "Thank you."
When Bask slid his finger across the button again, all of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. A love ballad sobbed from the machine like a lament of loss. I'd never heard anything before like the soaring vocal in its despairing loneliness and longing.
Was this Willoughby's or Lysander's music?
Did they choose this because they'd lost a lover like me? How could they stand to listen to something with such flayed grief?
I stumbled at the pulsing mourning in the music. Startled, Bask gripped my elbow, before pulling me to his chest. His breath was hot against my ear.
I'd already lost Robin. I refused to lose Bask as well.
Yet the emotion of what it'd mean if I did was lived out in this song beat by beat in its haunting loss.
Not again.
Tears chased down my cheeks, and I paled. I wouldn't ever be over Robin. I never wanted to forget and lose the pain because then I'd lose him too: his memory. He didn't deserve that when as a mage and an orphan, he didn't even have a grave to mark that he'd been alive.
He'd existed and he'd been loved.
But Bask was alive, warm, and in my arms right now. I wouldn't allow the agonizing cycle of grief to begin again.
Bask shook me. "Magenta? Please, please... what do you want me to do? I can be whatever you wish. I'll find a way to stop the Duchess. I won't leave you."
Chills ran through me. He didn't know how dangerous that was. "Don't say always. If the Principal or professors ever ask you whether you want to remain with me, then say anything but always."
"I don't understand."
"If the question is whether you belong with me, the answer is no," I insisted.
When Bask drew back to study me, his hair fell across his eyes. "But what if it's yes?"
I bopped him on the end of the nose. "Then, you remember that I love you, and I've asked you to say no."
He scrunched up his nose, offended. "You mean that I lie."
I nodded.
Bask grinned. "As you wish. So, you don't want to just drop me off with my old bond…?"
I sucked hard on his neck, enjoying the taste of his skin and the way that his breath hitched. I believed that answered his ridiculous question.
I pulled back, licking over the pretty purple hickey. His hard-on pressed against my hip, and his pupils were dilated.
I gave his neck one final lick. "Did you imagine that I'd deliver you to the Duchess in a bow?"
Bask's voice was fragile and raw. "Ma presented me wrapped in ribbons."
"I should rather like to kick some succubi ass today." My hands clenched into fists.
"See, here's the thing of it, we're not free to kick the asses that deserve it. If it was done on worth, our own would be petted and there'd be serious kickings all around for professors, princes, and patrons." He kissed the corner of my mouth, curling his hand possessively around the back of my neck. "How do you think the contracts are signed, which condemn us to the academy?"
"With a run up, pirouette, and a flourish to finish?" I ventured.
Bask huffed, sucking on my earlobe in retaliation. "In blood."
"Rather a cliche." I squirmed at the same time as I melted at his continued assault on my ear. "Although Hecate appears big on blood magic. Why not go for champagne or chocolate? Chocolate Magic would be something that I'd never complain about studying."
"It's your magic that winds through the academy, demanding blood sacrifices."
"Ah," I licked my lips, "in that case, what a wicked baby I was. I wonder what sacrificial blood tastes like?" When Bask gave me a sidelong look (I imagine that had sounded creepy but then, after over a century trapped with only myself and my familiars, I had a tendency to say what I thought), I smiled at him brightly. "Don't worry, I’m certain that your blood would be the most delicious."
"Of course it would; this incubus is tasty." Then he tore at his lower lip with his teeth. "Ehm, just don't drink me, please."
"I shall endeavor not to." I struggled to smother my laughter but then I sobered. There was a contract in blood that bound Bask directly to the Duchess. What could she do to him, even while he was in the academy? What control did she have? "How long have you known about this danger?"
"I've only just learned that you wanted to drink my tasty self..."
"I meant the Duchess arriving today to inspect you with the contract."
When Bask ducked his head, I knew. He'd been hiding this secret from me all along.
"I'm sorry,” he whispered. "I only wanted one week with you, Slippy, and Fox. I thought if I could feel what true love was, then I could take that back (holding its memory to me like I hold Nile), against what the Duchess will do to me. When I'm ignored in the incubi harem with the other bonded because..." He broke off, and his shoulders shook. "...I'm the freaky different incubus who broke, then I'd remember..."
"Wanking on Lysander's bed?" I choked out.
Bask laughed. How could he still sound so free, even though he'd accepted his enslavement? I'd pulled down my entire world to stop my marriage to a fae prince, but then, Bask had already been through this once.
"I'll cherish that and every moment with you. See, the only people who can free any Rebel are the Principal or the person who signs the contract. The Duchess could free me...take me away...whenever she thinks that I've learned my lesson."
"Then how do we break the contract?" I demanded.
"We don't. End of story." Bask gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "I swore that I'd protect my whipping boy and I won't let Fox be hurt because of me. I worked with the others to save you from Hecate’s Tree because we love you. I'd been an idiot to put you in danger now. I knew that the Duchess would take me back. Just love me, that's all I crave. Love me."