Page 141 of Gemini Kings
He is utterly relentless. He will kill for me without mercy.
Even when killing is not what I want.
Words are difficult in this form. But I reach for mine.
Maxim!I howl through the bond that I know lives between us.Don’t!
His words roll through me, distorted by rage.They would harm you. Harm Ronin. I will slay them. I will slay them all!
Fuck.
He won’t listen. I’m smaller than he is, by quite a bit. But I’m also quite a bit faster and way more agile.
I fold my wings tight and arrow after my enraged mate.
Wind screams in my ears and burns in my eyes. I slice down from above just as he’s rumbling up a good firestorm. I slam into his scaly back with teeth-jarring force.
A spear of pain twists through my mouth. At the moment of impact, I’ve bitten my forked tongue. My mate’s wings batter me with hammering force as he bellows and claws to stay aloft. Pain buffets me, but I ignore it and scramble to get a good grip.
He can’t do this.
He can’t.
I won’t let him.
He’ll kill innocent people, young witches and warlocks who don’t deserve to die. Witches and warlocks we can’t afford to lose.
They’re my people. My subjects. Whether that’s what they want to be or not.
They’re mine.
I won’t let them die.
But Maxim is far beyond listening.
We’re in free fall. Our tangled bodies bate and writhe, both striving to stay aloft, him struggling to shake free, me clinging to his back like a burr and trying to get a grip on the scruff of his neck. He snaps his teeth and roars at me, but I won’t let him go.
Down is up.
Up is down.
My whole fucking world is total fucking chaos. Still, somehow, I manage to deflect him from the house.
But that victory comes at a price.
Because now the ground is rushing up to meet us.
We’re way too close to pull up. We’re going to crash. Way too hard, way too fast, plummeting way too far to survive.
My mate bugles in alarm.
Now we’re both thrashing to get free. But somehow my wing’s trapped under his. The claws on his forearm are snagged painfully in the fragile membrane stretched between my wing joints.
We’re just way too late—
A slim shape flaming with heat streaks past us like a damn meteor. I catch a single wild glimpse of a cold furious face and the gleam of silver hair and (improbably) a rose velvet frock coat fluttering madly in the wind.
Vasili.
