Page 14 of Gemini Christmas
Max growls like the dragon he is, low and deep in his chest.
Lucius’ eyes glow red and his wolfish fangs descend.
V just looks dangerous, like a cobra poised to strike.
“Gosh, no, I’ve never heard of the cottage hurting anyone,” I rush to reassure my alarmed mates. “It’s more like a genie’s lamp.”
“Be more specific, Mr. Mercury. What precisely do you mean?” Lucius rumbles, his wolf rising in his throat. His red eyes sweep the cozy great room like he’s waiting for an actual genie to swirl out of the gramophone horn or step out from behind the Christmas tree.
Right on cue, the song changes.
The tune swells to a sprightly holiday waltz played by an old-fashioned orchestra. Now, on that old Victrola, it’s the most wonderful time of the year.
But Lucius is towering over me demanding answers, and I never keep my headmaster waiting.
“It’s a house that, sorta, grants wishes?” I blink up at his stern face. “Only they might be wishes you never asked for. Or things you didn’t know you need.”
Zara has been hugging her tummy with both arms, without even realizing she’s doing it. Now, subtly, her posture softens. She gives her tummy a soothing rub, like she’s settling down the babies in there.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” she says cautiously. “I can actually think of a few wishes I wouldn’t mind having granted.”
Her pointed gaze flickers from V to Zephyr. Those two guys have been fighting again. But we all know what they really need.
“A house that grants hidden wishes none of us has ever dared articulate?” V’s lip curls in a smirk that reveals his pointy incisors. “Darling, in this harem, that could be tragic or tantalizing.”
“Blimey, love, tell me about it,” Ronin mutters. He’s one of my mates who’s been the most bothered by the fighting.
Because Ronin’s been in love with both those guys for years. Since way before I came along, anyway.
Lucius paces around our sofa with his fangs still distended and his wolf lurking in his voice. “What happens once our various wishes—whether articulated or not—have been granted?”
“Once our wishes are granted, it breaks the spell,” I rush to assure him. “Then the cottage goes poof. I mean, it leaves us where we found it.”
“Allegedly,” Vasili murmurs. He rests his chin on his hand, taps his lips with one black-painted nail, and looks sly and lethal. “The truth is, no one really knows, do they?”
“The house will let us go once our most important wishes are granted,” I repeat stubbornly, because I feel confident in my knowledge of the family legend, and Zara still feels worried in our bond. “It’s just the house decides when that is.”
Ash is kneeling on the bearskin rug at my feet. Now he plants a steadying palm on my thigh and says to V, “Let’s not borrow trouble before we gotta, beautiful. Right now, tonight, what we need most is warmth and shelter from the storm and some hot grub to fill our bellies. Looks like this hacienda’s ready to provide.”
“Dinner?” Max’s hopeful eyes shift to the kitchen and turn crafty. “Yes. Ash is very wise. Clearly, we should eat. To strengthen ourselves for whatever lies ahead.”
Our dragon is already making a beeline for the kitchen. Lucius, still looking thoughtful but less actively on the prowl, stalks purposefully after Max.
I’m trying to struggle to my feet (because if they’re plating food for nine people, they’ll need help in there) when Ash’s big gentle hands ease me back on the sofa. He’s determined to apply a cold compress from his med kit to the bump on my forehead.
“You just sit still for me, okay?” he rumbles.
I have to admit, the cool press feels really good on my achy head. So I subside back into the overstuffed leather cushions with a sigh. “Okay, Ash. Thanks. Pretty sure I’ll be fine though.”
“How about you let me be the judge of that?” Ash whispers in my ear, nuzzling his bristly jaw against my cheek. “I’m the doc, ain’t I?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I mumble drowsily. “Asher Apollo Aurelius, M.D. You just need a stethoscope and a lab coat. Hottest doc in the whole hospital.”
“Aw, shucks. You’re making the old guy blush.” He chuckles.
“You’re not old,” I tell him earnestly, just like always. “You’re exactly the right age, Ash. For all of us.”
Patiently he applies the compress where it hurts. The herbal scent of Seelie comfrey, one of Ash’s staple herbs for healing, seeps through my senses.
