Page 120 of Gemini Hunted
But the sounds of combat are rising. I’m twitchy with the ruthless psychic hunger of Lucius letting his wolf out. We’re flat out of time.
“Zang, baby queen, you got real rizz,” Mordred says softly, in that teasing drawl he hides his real feelings behind. “Not gonna lie, I’m a sex demon. I’ve been with a lotta baes, all genders, true? Mostly, they’re easy come, easy go.” He pauses and his blue head tilts. “Mostly. But the two of you… and this whole found family you cobbled together… you hit different.”
I’m still working through his slang to what I think he means when Mordred unloops the messenger bag from his shoulder and tosses it, all casual, to me.
I catch the football in both arms with a gasp.
Under the suede-soft pouch, the solid weight of the Horn of Ceres sings in my head like a fucking choir.
Literally. It’s a fertility artifact.
Suddenly, with the thing clutched to my chest,allI can think about is fucking. All the blood rushes to my clit. My nipples tingle, my breath quickens, and my cunt floods with slick.
“Sweet—bleeding—Jesus,” I moan, thick and husky with sex.
“My, my,” Vasili breathes, dark and low anddelicious. “The way yousmell, little queen.”
Oh yeah. My alpha isdefinitelyfeeling this shit.
It’s all I can manage to stagger away from both of them—both my guys and their delectable cocks—and drop the messenger bag crosswise over my own tingling body. Singing in my head like Pavarotti, the Horn of Ceres nestles against my hip as if it’s meant to be there.
It helps that the Horn wants in the shaft. Even while my pussy aches and clenches with the need to be stuffed with dick until my eyes cross, the artifact drags me toward that hole in the tunnel floor.
“Stop pushing,” I mutter at the damn thing singing an aria against my hip. “I’m going.”
The shaft opens at my feet, a still expanse of black water gleaming in silent threat. I switch on my flashlight and shine it around the depths. Mordred already told me it’s deep. But the only way to really know what’s down there is to jump.
With a sigh, I drop to sit on the edge and swing my bare legs over. Cold water closes around my feet, so cold I almost yelp and pull them out.
But that would be unqueenly.
I’m supposed to be a badass, aren’t I? I’mmighty. Even the King of the Dark Fae says so.
I’m fitting my goggles over my eyes when Mordred swings down to sit beside me, toting the spare scuba tank, and tugs off his boots to reveal his webbed feet. “Imma go with. I’ll carry your spare. Guard your back.”
The breath rushes out of my lungs in a ragged sound that’s practically a sob of relief.
He didn’t apparate.
He’s still here.
Here with me.
Only now, he’s here with me by choice.
I’d rather fuck him than fight Cleo, for real. That Horn hums and trills against my hip like an opera at the Met.
Fighting like hell to concentrate on something,anythingbeyond the Horn’s pull and the rhythmic pulse of heat in my hoochie, I tug my ponytail free of my goggles and tighten my head strap.
“Hey, thanks for that, Mordred,” I tell him softly. “I mean it. Thanks for still being here. But I’ve seen you shifted, remember? This hole’s way too tight for your big-ass kraken. I’ll carry my own spare.”
He shakes back his long hair and tilts his head to show me the parallel slits tucked behind his pointed ear. “I got gills, baby queen. I can breathe underwater in this form just fine.”
Wow.
Apparently I really am adding Aquaman (like, literally) to this harem. I mean, assuming Zephyr ever gets over the idea of adding his nemesis (and cousin, but the blood tie is so nebulous) to our polycule.
“Take him with you, for fuck’s sake,” V says shortly, from a good way down the tunnel. The Goblin King is already levitating a good two feet above the ground, and I definitely wouldn’t want to be the first AIB guy he encounters. “The demon’s still here, isn’t he? Without being bound by my summoning spell.”
