Page 53 of Gemini Hunted
Ronin’s fist shoots up in the silent signal to freeze.
We all go rigid.
Max places himself between me and V and drops to a defensive crouch. Lean and lethal in his battered leather biker jacket, blond hair twisted into a braid that bares his ruthless Russian face, he’s gone full alpha guarding both V and me.
Electricity crackles through my body and sends violet sparks dancing down my fingers.
I lower the cat carrier gently to the ground and palm the stiletto that’s strapped to my thigh, because you better believe I’m wearing my catsuit and not my schoolgirl uni for this heist.
Feeling way better with cold steel in my grip, I breathe in deep, trying to sift through the sharp piney scent of evergreen, the damp green smell of moss, and the heady cocktail of pheromones from my various mates.
Beside me, Vasili lets out a low hiss.
Whatever it is that’s coming, clearly, he’s getting a whiff before I do. His feet lift from the ground as he levitates, shooting fifteen feet into the air. There he hovers in silent threat.
For him, that’s an intimidation display, like a cobra rearing to spread its hood.
Ronin leaps lithely to catch a low-hanging branch and swings himself into a tree with catlike grace. In a blink, he’s hidden from view.
Zephyr’s crossed swords flash free in his grip. The silver-feathered splendor of Ash’s wings sprouts from his shoulders, around the doeskin vest that’s cut to accommodate his wingspan. The two Fae pivot back to back, in the easy rhythm of two guys who’ve been guarding each other’s backs forever.
And Mordred? That demon holds out a hand like Thor calling his hammer in an Avengers film. His three-pronged trident literally materializes in his fist.
As for Neo, my fated mate stands protectively over the kitten in my duffel.
For the longest ten seconds of my entire fucking life, we all wait in prickly silence.
Then a lean shadow slinks from the trees.
It’s bipedal, I mean the thing walks like a man and it’s wearing pants. But its head is a long wolfish snout filled with wicked fangs. Curling black talons sprout from twisted hands and velociraptor feet. Bristly black fur covers its wiry torso. Inky dreads, threaded with colorful beads and juju, part around wolfish ears and swing around its slinking frame.
That wolf is… not Lucius.
“By the moon,” Zephyr breathes. “What manner of foul creature…?”
Neo pushes his glasses up his nose, then unexpectedly steps forward. “It’s aloup-garou. Cajun werewolf. I think that’s Mallory’s boyfriend. Hey, Jae Labête, is that you?”
The werewolf grins at him, long tongue sweeping over slavering fangs. Its eyes burn and pulse a wicked emerald green.
Fearless, our bookworm eases toward it, one cautious hand extended for the wolf to sniff.
“Neo Mercury, you be careful,” Max mutters.
A hum gathers in my throat. That’s the lightning voice. It’s how I summon. But I don’t wanna do that shit and start hurling lightning, especially in these close quarters, unless I gotta.
The werewolf studies the approaching bookworm with its monstrous head tilted. Saliva drips from its terrifying jaws.
I glance up to find Vasili’s casting hand twitching as he hovers overhead. He’s Neo’s alpha as well as mine, and super protective. I know if that werewolf makes one wrong move, V will hurl the thing fifty feet through the air or crush the wolf like a beer can with his telekinesis.
I guess we’re all feeling a little twitchy.
“It’s okay, Jae.” Low and soothing, Neo weaves his bookworm magic and sidles toward the wolf, step by step. “Nobody hurt him, okay? He’s only half-sentient in this form. I mean, according to what I read in Zoology of Magical Creatures class.”
“The kiddo’s right,” Ash murmurs. “There’s no reasoning with ’em. When aloup-garouattacks, you gotta put him down like a mad dog. We sure that’s theloup-garouyou know?”
“Precisely how many Cajun werewolves do you imagine this island contains?” Vasili says tartly. “They’re a critically endangered species.”
But my dominant alpha’s still levitating, which means he isn’t sure.
