Page 103 of Gemini Wicked

Clearly, he’s realized I’ve been taken (momentarily) off the board. Still, I don’t like that knife pressed to his throat.

Truly, I won’t abide the danger to him much longer. The alpha in me won’t tolerate it. My father might have temporarily contained my Mogadon witchcraft, but there’s at least one magical card I still have to play.

Another cry from Cleo rings out.

Zephyr’s dragon, who was previously silent (for a dragon), rumbles out a brassy warning.

Dear fuck, I’ll just have to trust that Dark Fae (eight words I never thought I’d say) to hold that feral beast of his in check until Lucius is free.

My father twitches at the rumble and Lucius gasps. The faint metallic tang of spilled blood hits my enhanced senses like a freight train.

Sweet fuck. My father’s infamously steady hand must have slipped.

Only the fact that Lucius is still standing, and not in visible physical distress, keeps me from losing my homicidal shit.

But I swear to myself Nikolai Romanov will regret every drop of precious blood he’s just spilled.

Even if he spilled it by accident.

“Okay.” Zara sounds a bit breathless from whatever futile struggle she’s clearly just subdued. But bless her witchy heart, she’s hard as nails when she needs to be. “Sorry about the hair loss there, Sunshine. Now we got that outta the way, here’s how this is gonna go down. You listening, Le Chiffre?”

“If you’re referring to me, Ms. Gemini,” my father says, sounding testy, because he seems to feel protective over that Aquarius bitch and besides, Zara can get under anyone’s skin, “I’m addressed as Director Romanov. Now I’d advise you to release Ms. Ferrari, before you do something we’ll all regret—starting with Professor Aries. This is my final warning. You yourself are in no position to issue orders.”

Another rumble from that green monstrosity of Zephyr’s is followed by the heavy slither of scales over stone.

“Oh, but I am,” the silver trickle of a different voice croons. “In fact, I was born to give orders.”

Oh, lovely. Apparently, that fucking Fae has decided to join the fun.

Now Zephyr’s tone turns to stone. “Go ahead and slay the wolf if it pleases you. For me, he’s nothing more than a rival suitor. Gladly shall I add his head to my collection.”

An electric current of shock makes me hiss.

“Whoa.” That’s my Zara, finally losing her cool. “Zephyr, what the fuck? This isn’t helping. It’s literally the opposite of helping. You and Xhev both need to back off and let me handle this shit.”

“Oh, but why should I, my bride?” the Dark Fae bastard murmurs, in that voice that’s like silk sliding over stone. “My sole interest lies in removing every obstacle that stands between me and your presence, seated in your throne at my side, at the Faerie Ball. The wolf is my rival and the girl is yours. Why should I not command Xhevith’s breath to boil the flesh from both their bones?”

“Because Lucius is my mate and I’m fucking telling you not to, that’s why!” A crash of thunder rattles the church windows, but Zara’s lightning voice is built to carry. “You stay outta this, Your Radiance. I mean it.”

Lucius, despite having a knife pressed to his throat and an acid-breathing dragon towering over him, tries to intervene. “Let’s all take a deep breath—er, except for you, Xhevith.”

“Alas.” Zephyr sighs like the high-functioning sociopath he clearly is. In fact, he’s so over-the-top sociopathic I dare to hope he might be bluffing. Whoever says alas in this day and age, for Christ’s sake?

Besides, he gave his slippery but binding Dark Fae word to Zara.

Didn’t he?

“Xhevith follows no man’s orders except mine,” the twisted fuck murmurs now. “Is that not so, my dear?”

A massive clawed foreleg, sheathed in scales of emerald green, descends heavily into my limited vantage. Now that damn dragon is looming directly over the stairs.

Even my father, peering up at the beast, wavers on his feet. He sways as though he’d really like to retreat down here.

Of course Nikolai Romanov is smart enough to grasp that he won’t be able to clear the death trap of these stairs tunneling down through stone, whether he frees Lucius first or not, before Xhevith exhales and showers all of us (myself included, given where I’m standing, assuming the Fae’s not bluffing) with a spray of flesh-eating acid.

“Zephyr, what the actual fuck?” Zara cries. This time, the accompanying crash of thunder makes the stone tremble under my combat boots. “You swore not to hurt him—or any of my guys. You gave me your fucking word.”

“I swore not to harm any under your roof, my bride,” that slinking sly fox of a Fae says softly. “That is an oath I kept, to the last syllable, while we remained within your domus. As you can see, we no longer reside there.”

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