What was that code for? Take Willoughby for a refreshing walk, back to the Princes Wing and tuck him into bed, or hang him up by his thumbs?
Ezekiel beat his wings together in agitation. "As the actual professor in the room, I'll have to insist, not yet." Lysander flushed. "I don't understand why you get out of hand every lesson. I've never had such a rebellious class." He ran his hand over his face in frustration. "Together, your magic is volatile but powerful. You need to learn to use it to work for you and not against you. I had intended to declare today a draw, so that you wouldn't have to play the Punish and Reward game."
My heart thudded, and my chest was tight.
We had to win. Fox's life depended on the outcome of the three lessons today.
I wet my dry lips, staring at Ezekiel. Lysander had gone very still. Was he even breathing?
"The one who draws blood in my lesson will always lose." Ezekiel shrugged. "And that means that the Immortals win."
Bask bounced to his feet with a whoop, holding out his hands to drag Sleipnir with him. Mist whinnied, raising his tail and prancing around the gym in delight.
To my surprise, it was Willoughby who patted Lysander's arm reassuringly. Lysander carefully didn't look at us, fixing his stare at the far wall.
I found that I hated that as much as Willoughby's lost look.
"We choose Punish." Sleipnir's grin was dark.
Bask slunk to me, winding his arms around my neck. "Would the Princes posing for a sexy calendar please you? It could be the Hot Rebel Princes 2020. Naked, oiled, and pinned in our bedroom."
Lysander made a low, choked sound, and Sleipnir chuckled.
"As Willoughby loves the cold," when Sleipnir's eyes narrowed, it reminded me of how dangerously protective he was, "why don't we send them for a night tied by the frozen lake?”
I cocked my head. "Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”
"Also, naked and oiled." Sleipnir smirked.
"I detest this game. No one's to be punished," I declared. Bask pouted; he'd truly been looking forward to that Rebel Prince Calendar. To be fair, I was flushed with warmth myself at the thought of it. "I choose Reward."
Sleipnir's jaw clenched. "Why would you reward them?"
"Because it's what they need." For the first time, Willoughby looked up, and I met his anguished gaze. "Both of them." I took a deep breath, as Lysander shot me a startled look. "I choose for Willoughby to heal Lysander."
"Your concern for me is touching." Lysander sniffed. "But I'm in no need of..."
I prickled my magic across his back, and even at the light touch, he yelped.
I raised my eyebrow, and he reddened. "I believe that it's my choice of reward."
Ezekiel's lips curled into a smile. He nodded at Willoughby, who rested his forehead against Lysander's. Then Willoughby hummed a lullaby that made me tingle with its beauty. It was like being drawn beneath dark waters into the Other World. My magic stilled, lulled into the calm.
It was magic with the power to heal and more powerful than even my own.
I could've died and been happy in that moment. It was magic like nothing in my world. When Willoughby stopped, I couldn't help the sense that I’d lost something special.
On Torment Thursday, nightmares were made real, but not the kind that children conjured. Instead, the type that lurked deep in our Souls. Fox had been saved in this lesson, but we had to win the next class to save his life.
Yet now we had Spells, Hexes, and Potions with Professor Bacchus. She was a witch from Sleipnir's nightmares, and her enchantments were terrors.
Chapter Twelve
FOX
It was becoming a familiar feeling to start a lesson tied up next to a naked vampire. Since this was also Spells, Hexes, and Potions, the class held the added bonus that as the whipping boy, I'd become the test dummy for one of those three fun options
Wow, I just couldn't choose if I preferred that Midnight and I be used as the guinea pigs to try out the classes' potions or their dodgy spells. Let's just pretend that Hexes had been wiped from SHP because I didn't want to imagine the crucio level curses that Lysander would direct at my prickles.
Who said that a coven-run academy education had to suck for a mage?
Wait, everybody did...
I sighed, settling back into my chair, which was a tangle of vines that rubbed at my wrists and ankles. I gritted my teeth against the pain. The chair grew out of the roots, which burst from the floor and curled up and around the mossy walls. I scrunched my nose at the earthy scent. Ancient magic bloomed out of every spore; I choked on it. It was like Hecate and Bacchus were hand in hand to smack a mage.
Perhaps, sister witch and goddess played that as a fun game to bond over, bitch slapping male gods like Pan (and why did that get my fur fluffing up in his defense?), and holding slumber parties where they braided each other's hair.
Okay, I was erasing that braiding hair part forever from my mind because the image of Professor Bacchus and Hecate all cozy together and choosing matching glittery clips, set off my Mage Shivers.
Pan help me.
I clutched the arms of the vine chair more tightly, struggling to count back from hundred to calm myself. I'd done bondage in a lesson before and last time, I'd been swinging upside down.
Slugs and snails, I was even feeling grateful now not to be hanging from my ankles like a snared fox.
Yet Bacchus' classroom wasn't witchy like Juni's. It was more like a science lab that'd been grown inside a tree. Not that I'd ever been inside a lab before coming to this academy or inside a tree, unlike Magenta.
Look at that, Rebel Academy truly did offer new opportunities.
When I caught Magenta's furious whisper behind me, I struggled to listen...I mean, actively overhear her conversation with Sleipnir...okay, eavesdrop. But my chair was turned to face the back wall and Midnight. The vampire, who was also the Prince's whipping boy, was bound in the chair facing me. His gorgeous ash wings were also dragged behind him and bound down by vines.
Whiskers and claws, that looked painful.
Midnight was also naked. He offered me a lopsided smile with a hint of fang like calmly waiting to be used as a naked guinea pig was a typical Thursday for him.
I had a feeling that it was.
What if Damelza had handed me over to the Princes to be their whipping boy instead of the Immortals? Would I’ve ended up looking grateful to be sitting on a chair, rather than kneeling in the corner? I grimaced. Lysander's balls would soon discover what it felt like to have Mr Fierce roll his prickles over them.
I winced. Was there any way that I could make that sound unkinky?
Midnight was palely beautiful. His dark hair tumbled in waves to his waist, and I made a valiant effort not to look at Midnight's prick, even if his hair was like a waterfall leading to it, before it twitched hello.
I didn’t imagine that.
Midnight's smile widened. When he blinked his charcoal eyes with his sinfully long eyelashes, I flushed. Then I squirmed against the ropes again, banging my head back in frustration. If this class was about our ability to remain submissive in bondage or the Pretend to be a Chair game (so far it could go either way), then I was one dead fox because Midnight held himself as still as a statue.