Page 48 of Of Flame and Fate

My attention returns to Gemini at the sound of his pained grunts. He has the ram’s back, his legs wrapped around his torso in a figure four leg lock. The strong muscles of his arms bulge as he readjusts his grasp over the ram’s horns and yanks his neck to the side.

It’s only because I know Gemini is okay that I take off after Johnny when he flees into the darkness.

The lights along the highway are the only reason I can see as much as I do. It doesn’t take me long to find him.

All I have to do is follow his cries.

Near a mound of withering grass, and close to a smaller patch of woods, I find the rock star, curled in a ball. Broken brown and green glass litter the ground surrounding him, and what looks like a discarded sneaker, digs into his back.

Less than a mile away, a line of cars battle it out to exit the arena. He almost made it.

Almost.

I walk slowly to him, noting how his skin is an awful shade of gray. Patches of raw skin paint his back, arm, and neck. If I didn’t know what happened, and if I wasn’t standing directly over him, I would have mistaken them for port wine stains.

As I watch, his spine arches and his head turns in an unnatural direction, his neck snapping with a sick crunch.

“Shit,” I say, leaping away.

He rolls onto his back, his eyes wild. “Don’t come any closer,” he warns through his teeth.

I don’t move, observing him carefully and coming to terms with what happened. My gaze moves to his stomach, the definition in his abs brutally disrupted by more patches of raw skin where the inked in images of his bandmates once lay.

Okay. His tattoos come alive. I get it. What I don’t get ishow.

“Stay away from me,” he says. He tries to sit up, his chin jerking behind me when someone else approaches.

I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Gemini, and I won’t turn my back on Johnny this time.

Johnny tries to crab-crawl away, the heels of his palms pressing into the glass strewn along the ground. He winces as the shards cut into his skin. But he’s badly hurt and barely able to move.

Gemini prowls forward, his animalistic gaze aimed at Johnny.

“Babe, don’t,” I tell him. My fingers skim lightly over his spine. It doesn’t seem like much, but for the moment, it’s enough to keep my wolf in place.

Sparks of lightning zing from my fingers when I crack them. “I have him,” I assure him.

Johnny’s focus darts from Gemini to me. “What the fuck are you?” he asks.

The unearthly growl Gemini releases cements Johnny in place. “The better question is, what thefuckare you?”

Johnny opens and closes his mouth, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to speak. I angle my chin to look at Gemini. “You don’t know?” I ask. I was certain he would.

He shakes his head. “I smell witch, but witches can’t conjure whatever the hell I just killed.”

“It was a tattoo,” I explain. “His tattoo. The rhino, the wolves, they were all inked into his skin.”

“What?” Gemini asks.

I point to Johnny’s wounds. “I didn’t cause those injuries,” I say. “None of us touched him. When he went on stage, he was covered with tats. Now all that’s left is damaged tissue.”

Gemini charges forward, lifting Johnny by the throat and taking a sniff. Johnny flails his arms, his gray skin turning blue.

“Gem, stop it.”

He drops Johnny like trash before I can intervene.

Gemini is the reasonable one—the one with the cool head which is why Aric chose him as his second in command. Except he’s not so cool when I’m in danger, his beast side accelerating his aggression.

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