Page 11 of Gemini Christmas
Right behind Ronin, Ash trudges through the blizzard like a Clydesdale stallion (or a reindeer) with Neo in his arms. Bundled to the eyebrows in every hat and scarf and parka we could wrap him in, my fated mate feels foggy and drowsy in our bond. Mumbling that he can walk on his own, Neo droops in Ash’s strong arms, with his curly head resting on Ash’s broad chest and his trusting arm wrapped around Ash’s neck.
Zephyr darts in and out of sight in our periphery, so light on his feet he’s like Legolas inFellowship of the Ring, practically walking on top of the snow. Before we left the SUV, the Dark Fae King snatched his swords (plural) from his duffel.
Now he’s gripping both of them, blades glowing like lightsabers with pale blue witchfire that hisses and steams whenever snowflakes kiss the steel.
That’s Zephyr planting himself fiercely on defense.
Even though we’re all hoping there’s nothing inside Theo Mercury’s magical wards—like a mountain lion or a bear that’s not hibernating—that can hurt us.
I guess you can take the Dark Fae King out of Avalon.
But you can’t take the Dark Fae King out of Zephyr.
He’s still feral. He’s one of my kings and I love the hell outta him, we all do, but he’s feral.
Mordred brings up the rear behind Lucius and me, the demon’s brawny arms loaded with luggage and all the Christmas parcels he won’t part with. My unpredictable dash of Valyrian foresight is pinging, that shit’s singing like a choir since our fender-bender. That’s why I asked our resident demon to carry as much of our stuff as possible. Since Mordred’s half kraken, he’s manifested a few tentacles to carry extra.
The rest of us are toting whatever we can. Even I’m schlepping a vital piece of survival gear—Vasili’s Louis Vuittoncosmetics case. (Without it, he’s hell to live with.) That’s the only light luggage anyone will let me carry.
I know my Goblin King.
Wherever we end up spending Christmas Eve, he’s gonna want to look pretty.
Even with my hot pink parka zipped up to my nose and my hood up, gusts of snow buffet my body and scour my face. Cold creeps under the hem of my parka and numbs my legs through my yoga pants. I grip Lucius’ supportive arm and flounder with determination through the drifts. With every step, my boots break through a crust of snow.
“Cheese on toast, Teach,” I mutter. “This is like an actual blizzard.”
“Just a few more steps, my queen.” Even in this near emergency, Lucius is his usual formal self. “There’s Ronin at the cottage already.”
“Thank fuck for that.” I sigh.
Even if we can somehow haul the SUV outta the ditch, I have real doubts we’re gonna be driving any farther tonight.
Let’s just hope whoever lives in that cottage is friendly.
Hearing my thought, Lucius growls under his breath. That’s his wolf, bristling at the concept of his puppies and his mates in danger.
Through a curtain of flying snow, the warm glow of mullioned windows appears. The homey scent of burning applewood, sweet with the cinnamon spice of baking pie, seeps through the night. Snug stone walls, sheltered by generous eaves, block the wind.
Thankfully we lumber after Ash toward the porch.
The front door stands ajar, spilling firelight onto the steps. A lavish Christmas wreath, bedecked with a red velvet ribbon and nailed to the open door, adds a festive air.
Zephyr flits past us, past the heavily laden Ash with Neo, both swords still hissing with witchfire.
“Easy with those lightsabers, Your Radiance,” I call after my guy in a puff of frosty breath. “They’re friendlies inside, they’re Neo’s dad’s tenants. We don’t wanna scare ‘em.”
“I shall make certain,” Zephyr calls back grimly.
Intent with purpose, he prowls up front with Ronin. At least Ronin tamps out his fireball before he goes in. Because, like, fire hazard.
Those two warlocks, Ronin and Zephyr, slip inside together.
Admittedly, I need to actively resist my own powerful instinct to lead the charge. I’ve had to learn to resist many of my old daredevil ways while I’m preggo with these kids.
Hearing no violent outcry from inside, Ash clumps across the porch, stomps the snow off his boots, then shoulders inside with Neo.
Lucius helps me up the steps and hovers protectively at my shoulder as I edge my pregnant, parka-clad body through the door. Mordred is right behind him, with tentacles hopefully not too obvi under all that luggage and Christmas loot.
