Despite the pain, my lips curled into a smile. Magenta was safe and loved my sinfully sexy self (of course, snicker). I’d experienced real love and nothing the Duchess did could take my memories from me. I wouldn’t let the Duchess break me again because this time, I’d have Magenta’s love inside me, keeping me strong.
I scrunched up my nose at the stench of garlic, before glancing down at the Hecate shrine that’d been built under the narrow window. The Hecate statue, which lounged on the stinky garlic, wagged her finger at me.
I pulled my innocent face, even adding in a flutter of eyelashes, but her eyes only narrowed, as she pointed at the corner.
See, it must be the limp hair effect already.
Fox would've flicked her off because my snuggly foxy was a serious Rebel, but I didn't have the same witch vs mage war raging as he had. Instead, I cast a sneaky glance over my shoulder (at least my arse was still pettable), before putting my nose back into the corner.
Although I should warn Damelza about Rule 23 of the Incubi Night Code: If somebody puts you in the corner, put them in the ground.
Harsh but fair.
All of a sudden, the scent of wild woods wound around me. I sighed, as cold lips kissed down the back of my neck, prickling my skin with electric magic. Magenta was here with me. It was adorable that she was truly invisible and didn't care. Plus, she wouldn't let me suffer this alone like I once had at the palace.
I raised my chin. If I had to stare at a wall, then I could do it with attitude.
A cool breeze blew across my hip, and I fought myself to stay still, as it cooled my cock and balls. So, my Voyeur Ghost was also a Possessive Ghost. But then who wouldn't want to claim the precious jewels of a sexy incubus (come on, who was I kidding, they were already marked with her name).
I let myself sink into the safety of Magenta's ghostly embrace: her scent and touch. She wasn't visible, but I could feel her. She was still inside me, and I knew that she always would be.
Once an incubus loved, it was until death, just as it was like death to be parted from their lover; it was this whole thing. And when I was parted from Magenta and the other Immortals, it'd be a slow death. Except, I'd never let them know that. Ma had taught me that I should think about my own survival first, but I'd do anything to save the other Rebels. They belonged to me and that meant that I’d do anything to protect them.
After all, I'd also been taught to let myself burn.
"Beg me for your inspection," the Duchess whispered into my ear.
The hairs on my nape rose. When had she moved behind me? Had I been that deeply lost in my brilliant dream of the Immortals? Silly incubus, didn't I know that safety wasn't real?
Too close, too close, too close...
I shrank against the wall like I could somehow escape her. If I'd still been her bonded incubi back in the palace, I'd have been punished for flinching.
My tongue darted out to wet my dry lips. The scent of yew trees faded. Where was Magenta? "P-please inspect me."
Would I be in trouble for hesitating?
I heard the click click of the Duchess’ footsteps, as she prowled away.
"He's forgotten his training," the Duchess said, coolly.
I winced. I was off my game.
"You broke him and then abandoned him in my academy. Did you expect to find him in perfect shape?" Damelza replied.
Wow, that was brutal. Also, true.
Was Damelza defending her own honor or mine?
Still, we had a saying: Never trust an enemy who looks like a friend. Seriously, it was an ancient one. Trust me.
"Turn around." The Duchess' voice was quiet but rang through the study like a gunshot.
I swallowed, and my hands clenched into fists. My nails bit crescents into my palms. I forced myself to turn; my pulse roared in my ears.
The study was dark and stacked with books and potions. On the wall opposite me, beneath the academy's RA crest, the wall sparkled with pink and black motivational sayings. Underneath this, scrolled the school's motto:
Rebel Academy — Blessing the Wicked Since 1870
The Duchess perched casually on the edge of an obsidian desk that was cobbled with crow skulls. Her hands were crossed in her lap like she was demurely waiting for a prayer book to be placed in them, but I knew that it was Number Three in her Top Ten Positions to Ride an Incubi’s Face. Her red hair tumbled around her shoulders and her skin was the type of peachy that the other bonded incubi in the harem had swooned over.
Yet the predatory hunger in her intense gaze made me want to vomit. But then, that would make me even less pettable.
The Duchess’ dress was long white satin with a train that coiled around the study, but her red fluffy tail poked out of the back.
Yep, succubi had tails, which had many sexy possibilities, if they didn't use those tails to whip you, rather than stroke your dick.
Away with you, it'd be a fine thing to have a fluffy tail wank.
The Duchess arched her brow. "You displease me."
I howled, doubling over. Why didn't she just boot me in the balls and have done with it?
The air around me suddenly became electrified. Magenta's rage now joined the mix. The windows frosted over.
Magenta was only here to watch, although there were far kinkier ways that I could enjoy that. How could I get her to step down on the whole protecting me thing because if she saw the state of my hair and was still about to reveal herself, then didn’t it have to be love…?
I drew in a deep breath and straightened.
Damelza tutted. "Entertaining though it is to watch your techniques, are you here to inspect his progress or complain all evening? I have other lessons planned, you know. This is still the start of term, and an academy doesn't run itself. Tomorrow's Torment Thursday, which is always thrilling, then there's the Dragon Polo Tournament. These events have to be organized."
I glanced at Damelza from underneath my eyelashes. My guts roiled. Other lessons? At this time of evening, that usually meant somebody had earned the Memory Theater as punishment.
Please, not my whipping boy again.
Damelza’s feathered dress ruffled up in outrage, as she sat stiffly in the blood-red leather desk chair. Her silver blonde hair glistened, and she fiddled with the feather that was tucked behind her hair. She appeared as stressed by the Duchess' visit as me. If she wasn't such a bad bastard, Head of the House of Crows Coven and Principal, then she'd have been beautiful.
Yuck. Dick, you’re getting a smack even for twitching at that thought.
She wasn’t as beautiful as Magenta, of course, although she was her descendant (dick, for the love of the Immortals, stop twitching).
I hated to think of Magenta as a witch of the House of Crows, but she wasn't like them. She was my witch, like Slippy was my god, and Fox was my whipping boy.
Unfortunately, the Duchess appeared to think that I was her incubus. My expression became steely. I'd rather curse myself with forever frizzy hair, than become hers.
In my heart, I never would be again. Yet once, I would've loved her with my every breath.
The Duchess ran her hand along a spine of a book as if to figure out the words inside by touch alone. "He's different. Who's touched him?"