Page 54 of Of Flame and Fury

“We don’t know that either, young one,” he tells her.

She nods and lowers her gaze. I feel foolish just lying in Gemini’s arms as he continues to speak to his pack. “Please put me down, love,” I ask.

“Taran, you’re in no condition,” he mutters.

Probably not. “I need to walk and stretch my legs,” I say.

The tension along his features ease when he looks at me, setting me down carefully. I take my place beside him, attempting to appear stronger than I feel.

“Where’s Aric?” Gemini asks.

The female who spoke first glances at me. I must look even worse than I thought. “Clearing a suite for the Mate. He doesn’t want her among the dead.”

“He’s clearing a suite by himself?” Gemini asks.

Although he’s asking, he’s not entirely surprised.

A smallerwereglances down. “The alpha has a lot of rage he needs to unleash.”

I’ll bet. “What are you doing with our dead?” I ask.

The she-lion adjusts her hold on the wolf, causing the Nyte’s broken ribs to rub together, making a disturbing sound I won’t easily forget. “We’re piling them in Genevieve’s office,” she replies.

“Excuse me?” I ask. “Whose genius idea was that?”

I have mentioned I speak my mind, haven’t I?

“Uri’s,” they all mumble.

“Uh-huh,” I say. Talk about a petty bitch. It’s his, “Fuck you,” to Genevieve for ruining his evening.

“I don’t like this,” Gemini growls.

“Neither do we, sir,” the she-lion states. “It had begun before our return, and we must—”

She swallows hard.Wereshave their beasts to help them through the tough times, but this…this is more than simply hard. It’s devastating. She clears her throat when her beast gives her another boost of strength. “We must take care of our dead,” she finishes.

Gemini nods. “Yes,” he says. He looks up toward the devastated stairwell. “I’ll see to the alpha.”

His twin jets up the steps, taking four at a time and barely making a sound. “Sir,” the smallestwereinterrupts. “I… Perhaps you shouldn’t. The alpha is very angry right now.”

I recognize the drop in tone in my lover’s voice. It captures every bit of what we’re feeling. “So, am I,” he says.

Thewereshead in the direction of the fireplace as Gemini jogs up the stairs. “Wait here,” he tells me.

“Of course,” I reply.

He drops his head and sighs, knowing I won’t. I give him the best smile I can muster. It’s only then he continues up the stairs.

The grand foyer has transformed into a hospital ward circa World War One. I limp past the group ofweres, their wounds mending slower than should be possible. Lesser witches, their pilgrim-style uniforms in tatters and covered with muck, carry pitchers of water and trays with food. Some of the food is cooked, most of it isn’t. Theweresdon’t care. Their beasts demand that the calories burned from stress and battle be replenished.

I pass a large polar bear scarfing down a carton of heavy cream. A Lesser witch waits with a tray stacked with bricks of butter. He’s famished, and the food is likely limited. I wonder briefly if Celia will be forced to munch on butter and suck down cream. For a moment, I contemplate making her something decent to eat, except I have other shit to do.

One of the witches I went to school with tends to awere. I’m not certain what kind he is. Both of his arms were chewed off, and Merry is doing her best to bandage the limbs.

She offers me a weak smile as I pass. “Ya made it,” she tells me.

“You did too,” I say.

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