Page 49 of Of Flame and Fate

I’m certain he crushed Johnny’s larynx, but thankfully Johnny is still breathing, his skin morphing back to gray.

I frown, noting how quickly the color begins to improve. He’s still in bad shape, and unbelievably pale, but he is healing.

“He didn’t try to hurt me,” I say, speaking softly to ease Gem’s anger and soothe Johnny’s fear. “Not outwardly. If anything, I think he was just trying to defend himself.”

My voice fades in the breeze as Gemini’s features harden. “What is it?”

The cords along his throat tighten as he swallows hard. “He’s a Fate, Taran.” His eyes lock with mine. “The male version of Destiny.”

Chapter Eleven

Gemini escorts Johnny back in the direction of the arena.

And when I say “escort” I mean he lifts him by the arm and drags his floundering feet across the ground.

“If you try to run, or use your magic against us, I’ll kill you,” my beloved tells him, flatly.

Johnny rights himself, more or less stumbling forward. He laughs, kind of hysterically, bordering on psychopathic. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

His question is odd, as if he’s not completely sure. He should be sure, being what he is.

Gemini picks up on as much. “That’s right,” he replies.

We wait for more of an explanation, not that it comes. You don’t have to be a genius to figure out Johnny is terrified of Gemini.

“You’ve never seen a werewolf?” I ask, careful to keep my tone light.

His attention trails to me. “Sure. Plenty of times. They just don’t see me. Right, big guy?”

Gemini’s deep growl has Johnny shrinking inwardly. Again Johnny looks my way, this time for help.

“Don’t taunt the big bad wolf,” I warn. “Unless you want to be eaten.”

I don’t realize how far we ran until I see the bright arena lights in the distance, barely visible in the ink black night. I stumble over a rock, swearing when it hits the open toe of my tall shoes.

“Are you all right?” Gemini asks, beating back what very much resembles a smile.

He watched me pack and questioned why platforms are my go-to for guard duty.

“Sneakers are more practical,” he said. “In case you have to run.”

“Sneakers don’t go with my cute clothes, and they can’t stake a vampire.”

He crossed his arms. “When was the last time you staked a vampire with a shoe?” He thought about it. “When was the last time you staked a vampire ever?”

I didn’t have a good comeback then, and I don’t have one now. Right or not, I’ll never admit my choice in footwear was damn stupid, especially with that smirk he’s currently wearing.

“I asked you if you’re okay?” he reminds me.

“Fine, baby,” I tell him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you wore those ridiculous shoes instead of practical sneakers,” he mutters.

“I’ll remember that next time.”

“Next time your life is in jeopardy?” he asks, growing annoyed.

There’s no point in arguing that my life wasn’t in grave peril, seeing how it damn well was. Instead, I shift the conversation back to Johnny where it belongs. “What did you mean by wolves can’t see you?” I ask Johnny.

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