Page 118 of Gemini Hunted
Before I can muster the words, the vast darkness of the catacombs behind me echoes with a low sinister chuckle.
Every hair on my body rises to stand straight on end. My horrified brain shoots straight to the zombie werewolf rising scenario.
But wait. No. That’s a hyena chuckle.
Still distant.
But not distant enough.
Lucius twists toward the noise. He growls and his eyes glow red. Since he’s still shirtless and wearing Ronin’s leather pants, his powerful body looks fucking savage, like the wolf king he is. Jae echoes his growl and drops to a crouch. Jae’s hands get all gnarly and curling black talons—sharp as box cutters—sprout from his twisted fingers.
I’m honestly impressed. Mal’s werewolf is like a cross between Edward Scissorhands and Freddy Krueger.
But what matters most right now is that he’s following Lucius’ lead. I mean, for now. If Jae goes full shifter and lets his monster out, he’s non-sentient.
Then all bets are off.
“Oh, crap.” Neo cuddles our kitten to his protective chest. “The AIB kill squad. I thought we got rid of them? Those hyenas must be tracking our scent.”
V rises like a rearing cobra and zips across the dark shaft to my side. He doesn’t alight, but hovers just above the ground, his combat boots glittering violet in the electric twilight of our flashlights.
“They’re functioning as hunting hounds,” V hisses, face vicious. “Driving their prey—us—straight to the hunters.”
“Quickly.” Zephyr unsheathes his double swords, already humming with blue witchfire. “Everyone up the stairs. I’ll summon Xhevith. His rising will alert our mates. Then shallwebecome the hunters.”
Neo’s decanting our kitten gently into her carrier (she’s protesting, two little white paws shooting out to grip the duffel, but he patiently persists) while Mordred scrambles to his feet and summons his trident.
Mal’s guys look to her for guidance, but she’s looking at me.
More whoops and cackles rise from the darkness behind us. Still distant, but those hyenas are closing in. Clearly, they knowwe’re close. My brain is racing like a hamster on a wheel. The pulse of the Horn fills my ears with a second heartbeat.
At this point, I can sense that artifact like an extra limb. The Horn of Ceres wants down the shaft, down that deep dark cobwebby hole in the ground (because of course it does).
And the artifact’s draw is pulling me in.
Uneasy and resistant, my inner dragon squirms under my sternum. She doesn’t like when I dive, especially not a tunnel dive like this one, where there’s not even room to shift in a crisis.
To be honest, I’m not wildly crazy about the whole idea myself.
But I don’t see any alternative. The only other certified diver in our polycule is Ronin, and he’s not here. Besides, as we’ve already established, it needs to be me specifically who returns the Horn to the Vault.
C’mon, showgirl,I tell my reluctant dragon.We gotta woman up and do this.
Ignoring her grumbles and moving as fast as I can, I toe out of my saddle shoes, peel off my knee socks, and start giving orders. “You guys take the stairs. Follow Zephyr, he’ll lead you to Xhev and the others. I’ll, uh, go this other way. With the Horn.”
While I finish stripping down to my skivvies, I simultaneously deal with the expected protests from Neo and Zephyr and an alarmed Lucius. But Mal, after a single piercing look, helps me make the case and gets our Scooby gang organized in an impressive display of hall monitor efficiency.
Vasili, atypically, is silent.
But silence—for him, right now—is a behavior I interpret as support. He’s never hovered over me like a traditional alpha (because he doesn’t have a single traditional bone in his long, lean, sexy-pretty-dangerous punk-rock warlock body). He’snever tried to shelter me from the big bad world. He trusts me, in a unique way most of the others try to emulate but can’t, to take care of myself.
It’s obvi to me that he’s worried. But he’s trusting me to handle my shit.
That’s what I’m doing right now.
While I strip down to my boy-cut briefs and bra, V commandeers my discarded clothing (which I’m gonna need again after), rigs the slim one-liter pony bottle of precious oxygen into the harness, and straps the lightweight gear over my shoulders. Unlike a standard tank which goes behind, the mini scuba tank sits in front between my boobs.
While Jae and Lucius backtrack down the tunnel to scout for the bad guys, I delegate Zephyr and Draco to take Mallory and Neo (and the kitten) upstairs. For the bookworms—our First Boy and First Girl—combat isn’t their strong suit, and I want them both safe.
