Page 25 of Gemini Wicked

He hisses out a curse in his native tongue.

“That’s got to smart a bit, yeah?” I grin into his agonized face.

But he’s still in the game.

Fucker literally hurls himself at me.

We’re scuffling and swearing and scrabbling for the knife when a snarling blur of chestnut fur streaks over me and drives Xiao’s weight right off my body.

I push up to sit with a gasp of relief, then scramble to my feet, weak and knock-kneed as a fawn. Totally fucking helpless to do anything but watch while Xiao and Lucius’ wolf tumble end over end, knife flashing, the prick yelling, the wolf growling and snapping…

…right through a gap in the guardrail…

Over the side of the ship.

Still locked together, the two tumble out of sight with the wolf’s surprised yip.

A long second later, the silence splinters in a heavy splash.

“Lucius!” I stagger to the rail, swaying like a drunk, and stare wildly down into the night-black sea. “Lucius!”

Where in blazes are they? The inky sea’s all choppy, but they’re nowhere in sight.

Gripping the rail for balance, I twist for a lookabout to see if, somehow, I’ve missed them. Most of the action on board seems to have shifted to the lower decks, except for those losers we’ve left scattered in various piles of moaning incapacitation on the poop deck. There’s gallons of spilled blood splashed about. Looks a bit like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre up here, because Lucius’ wolf tore through anyone who threatened us, and he’s savage with those wicked chompers. Plus my psi fire’s taken a bunch of blokes off the board.

The remaining action on this deck’s centered on Zara.

Her face has gone incandescent like the goddess she is, eyes pulsing platinum, hair writhing round her face like Medusa snakes.

Now my girl clenches her fists and does this foot-stomp trick, with an echoing cry that summons her little lightning. An electric jolt of ultraviolet whoop-ass ripples outward across the deck, with her at the center, and arcs through those three guys troubling her.

Our queen’s way more lethal than a shock stick, even when she’s pulling her punches (like now). That crackle of electric discharge puts all three of them on the ground.

Knocked out cold, just like that beefy civvy who grabbed her before. That guy’s only now coming round near the oyster bar, while the chick with the purple boa sobs and flutters over him.

Racetrack’s down, slumped over the bar, though I can’t see any blood. Looks like she’s maybe spell-stunned, like she burned through too much juice porting Dez and Neo (who’s a big boy, a lot of mass for her to move) kilometers out of play.

Or else she’s been thunked on the noggin. Which is a bloody good way to take any kind of telekinetic out of the game.

Speaking of telekinetics…

I can’t see Vasili any damn place. But the main deck below is bedlam. Place looks and sounds like it’s coming apart at the seams. There’s screaming. Running. Random police brutality.

At a guess, that’s where I’ll find my boyfriend. Right in the bloody thick of it.

“Ronin!” Zara races toward me, face wild and hair flying. “My God. You’re bleeding!”

“Fuck, it’s nothing. Flesh wound.” Sure, Xiao nicked me with that knife. My shoulder stings a bit. But I’ve handled lots worse.

I grip my girl’s silky bare arms, her skin cold under my hot hands, and give her a quick once-over. She’s lost her stilettos and one strap of her party frock has snapped. Otherwise, thank fuck, she looks undamaged.

Shuddering in relief, I drag her into my arms in a quick hard hug. “Fuck, Zara.”

“Sweet Jesus. Ronin.” She presses into me, arms winding tight round my waist. Guess whoever has that nullifying object’s moved along, because the familiar tingling rush of our psychic bond floods through me. She’s trembling in my arms, which totally makes me mental.

I pull her head hard into my chest and tighten my grip.

Yeah, she’s shaken, who wouldn’t be after this circus? But she’s also pissed as fuck.

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