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"Indeed," I replied, "like the chance to be walled up alive if we don't kidnap an Archduke dragon from his own Court."

Fox's expression clouded. "Okay, some opportunities are better than others."

Bask yelped as he was dropped behind Fox by Ambrose. "If it pleases you, it takes work to get an arse this pettable. You've only gone and bruised it."

Fox shoved his behind against Bask in a way that made Bask groan. "Grab hold of me. I'll kiss your ass better later."

Bask still shot a glare at Ambrose that even made him pale.

“It’ll be your balls that’ll be bruised for not using a saddle,” Ambrose pointed out.

Bask cupped his crotch protectively, whispering to his balls, “Your sacrifice won’t be forgotten.”

Ambrose fluttered in the air beside us; his golden wings glinted in the light. "It’d drain the gold from my wings if you fail this mission. I promise, I won't punish Marcus for escaping and..." His wings beat even faster. "Look, I'll think about how the dragons are treated. Now get your daft selves to the ruins and the Gateway. Your twenty-four hours starts…now."

Fox glanced at his watch. “It’s 1:17. If we don’t return by this time tomorrow afternoon, then I’m…”

Don’t say dead. Please, don’t say it.

“We will,” I said, firmly.

Sleipnir neighed, pawing at the ground. Then he turned and started out of the yard at a speed that almost knocked me back. I grinned, grabbing more tightly onto his mane and winding my mists to tie Fox and Bask to both Sleipnir and me. Now they couldn't fall from his back or away from me.

I took a shuddering breath and allowed myself to simply feel.

Sleipnir galloped away from the stables and through the wintry grounds. His hooves crunched on the snow, churning it up in freezing waves. Bask cried out in excited delight, and Fox laughed. A glimmer of sun broke through the gray clouds, warming my face as I raised it to the sky.

This was freedom.

This. Moment. Now.

No professor could take it from us Immortals. We were united together, riding through the grounds. My pink magic wound out of the floor and sky in a tunnel, guiding us on like life, death, and love.

It was everything that I was, and our connection together through the veil.

My heartbeat thudded against the beat of Sleipnir's and the thud of his many hooves.

Yet the Immortals and I rode towards the ruins, where another Blessedly Charmed witch had once been imprisoned, a Gateway to mystery realms, and a deadly mission to kidnap a shifter. I could feel the flaming magic of the collar, which hung from my pearl choker. It’d crush the shifter, trapping him, as much as Willoughby's suit or Sleipnir's shame did.

I urged Sleipnir on even faster, closing my eyes and losing myself in the sensation of my Rebels’ love because ahead lay the Dragon Court.

Then all of a sudden, Sleipnir reared back. His eyes were wide and startled.

A stone block crashed down, blocking the path. It was ancient and dangerous. Shocked, my magic faded. I lost my grip on Sleipnir's mane, Fox and Bask tumbled from his back, and I screamed.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Continue Magenta’s adventure in the final book of the trilogy REBEL ACADEMY: CURSE, WICKEDLY CHARMED BOOK THREE HERE NOW

Author Note

Curse — Book Three in the Wickedly Charmed series — is already written, so you can continue Magenta and her Rebels’ adventures! The trilogy is COMPLETE and available to order NOW HERE! I’m SO excited for you to discover the Rebels’ dangerous secrets, as well as the thrill of the Gold Court of the Dragons , Dragon Polo Tournament, and the Enchanted Ball in the finale of the trilogy! The cursed past of the academy will either shatter or free them all…

You’re total stars for your recommendations, word of mouth, and reviews because it’s how my books reach new readers. I’m truly grateful to you. Even a single line review raises the series’ visibility.

I love my Rebels. I hope you do too!

Thanks, you’re awesome - my Rebel family :)

Rebel here, yeah?

Rosemary A Johns

Thanks for reading CRUSH. If you enjoyed reading this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Your support is really important to us authors. Plus, I love hearing from my readers!

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Read Rebel Academy: Curse Now!

Midnight’s fangs grazed my throat, and I shivered. He wrapped his ash wings around me, as I kissed him.

“Let me drink from you, my Queen.” Midnight whispered.

My eyes fluttered closed, and his fingers circled my hip. When he licked down my neck, my skin tingled.

All of a sudden, Prince Lysander wrenched Midnight away from me.

“I’ll tell you a secret.” Lysander’s breath was hot against my cheek, and his wings banded around me like he’d never let go. “Midnight is cursed.”

“We’re all cursed.” I pressed Lysander against the wall, brushing my lips against his on each word. “Is the true secret that you’re the one who desires my forbidden touch…?”

READ CURSE HERE NOW!

Read Rebeclass="underline" The House Of Fae!

Read the standalone complete REBEL and learn the secrets of Prince Lysander’s fae Court and Quinn (from Rebel Angel’s) fae tribe!

Wicked Reform School, Trial Area

Monday 26th April 

LORD SPRING

This morning, I either reformed and graduated or remained wicked and died.

At the Wicked Reform School, once you’d reached the end of your sentence, it was the only choice.

Yet I was Lord Quincey Spring, the leader of the despised Rebel Dark Fae tribe from the English forests, who’d walked in the shadow of death my entire life. After a decade exiled and locked up in this American prison of a reform school because my tribe had been sentenced for rebelling against the Unseelie Queen, I wasn’t a model student.

This term alone, I’d had to sit a special lesson invented just for me: The Problem Prankster. How to think beyond What Would Loki Do?

Let’s just say that I hadn’t planned a graduation party.

My golden wings fluttered, and I wrinkled my nose at the scent of tangy blood that stained the wooden floor. I edged my foot away from the patch of scarlet (I’d spent ages polishing my boots), and glanced out over the Trial Area that’d been adapted into a stage for the graduation ceremony.

The fae were ranked like an army on parade, if that army were dressed in steam punk military uniforms with slashes in the sweeping coats for their burnished wings. Their emerald eyes were fixed forward, and their pale faces were as emotionless as we’d been taught to be.

Almost like they weren’t here to be executed.

My heart clenched at the thought of what was about happen to my people.