Page 97 of Gemini Hunted
He looks like a total psycho.
I mean, even more than usual.
“Hey,amou, we missed you,oui?” Jae slips up behind Draco and rubs his face familiarly into the side of the guy’s neck to scent him. Totally undeterred by the blood and the rifle and the crazy, natch. The Cajun werewolf’s black-rimmed eyes gleam liquid gold at me in the dim light.
Mallory rushes over with a cry and cuddles up against both of them, exclaiming over the blood. Draco assures her it’s not his, slings his thick arms around both of them, and generally lets his two mates love on him with a lot more patience than I expect.
That reaction makes me temper my original diagnosis about him being cray cray.
I mean, he’s definitely crazy. But his mates make him sane.
These three haven’t been together long, but they’re already pregnant (a fact not generally known at the Academy, but Malshared it with me.) They’ve clearly settled into their menage. I squash down a twinge of envy that Mal has both her guys safe beside her, while half of mine are missing and in danger.
Instead, I focus on how good it feels to see Mallory happy. She’s my friend and she deserves it. Even if her guys aren’t anything I’d have chosen for myself.
Once I’m queen—if I’m queen—I intend to encourage a lot more relationships like theirs.
What the witching world needs most, to reverse our slow slide to extinction, is more witches.
Of all genders.
Fucking.
“Well, Mars, don’t leave us in suspense.” V eyes the menage and their lovefest with poorly veiled impatience. “Precisely what—orwhom—have you left alive and ambulatory behind us?”
Draco lifts his head from nuzzling the side of Mallory’s neck and rubs a rough hand over Jae’s beaded dreads to soothe him. His pale Nordic eyes drill into Vasili’s. “We got Uncle Sugar and the feds breathing down our necks. Matter of fact, Romanov—”
“For fuck’s sake. You were given one job.” V cuts him short with a slash of his slender hand. “So much for the formidable reputation of the Mars clan mafia. Evidently you’re all bark and no bite.”
I can tell V’s head is hurting, which makes him irritable (you know, more than usual).
But the real issue is he’s worried.
About me and all of us.
The sharp edge of his fear for my safety knifes through our mating bond.
Draco, who seemed like he was about to say something significant and who doesn’t have access to my snake’s secret worries, shuts down like a clam and scowls. “Hel,I got a higherkill count than you, Romanov. But there’s always room for another notch on my knife.”
“Whoa.” Looking concerned—which is justifiable—Mal plants her fragile beanpole body between her guys and mine. Her huge gray eyes plead silently for my help. “Draco, we’re Zara’s allies, we’re even in her harem, uh, temporarily, you can’t go around killing her warlocks. And Vasili, you stop baiting him.”
I’m honestly impressed that Mal’s standing up to her bully. (I mean Vasili, not Draco.) Before my snake can do something truly awful, like close his telekinetic fist and crush her throat for sassing him, I leap into the fray.
“That’s right, guys. We’re all on the same side here, remember? And we gotta keep moving. You’re with me, Goblin King.” Without waiting for a verbal consent I know I won’t get, I loop my arm through V’s and tug him along with me. I swing my beam grimly toward the tunnel. “In we all go, I guess.”
Vasili pouts at me, an effect somewhat lessened by the gauze bandage wound rakishly over his forehead and his smudgy morning-after mascara. But he takes my flashlight with a sigh and bends his tall frame to peer skeptically into the tunnel.
With a final squeeze, Draco releases his two lovers and gives me a level look. “No guessing. You need to motor. You’re being hunted, Gemini.”
“So what else is new?” I touch the stiletto strapped to my thigh for reassurance, twist my hair into a high ponytail to keep it outta my eyes, and hum in my throat to summon a crackle of static. “No one else technically has to come with—except Mordred with the Horn if you’re still game, demon—but I’m definitely going in.”
“Yo. I’m down, baby queen.” Mordred banishes his trident with a blink (still a startling magic, but I’m getting used to it)and swanks up to the grisly catacomb entrance with a grin. “This’ll be dope, for real. Gimme that flashlight. Imma go first.”
“Needless to say, we’re all going,” Lucius says firmly (to no one’s surprise). “You can entrust the flashlight to me.”
Everyone’s already committed, but I need to know it’s their choice. Even though I’m not surprised, I’m still hella grateful.
To all of them.
