Page 56 of Gemini Hunted
“Forget about it. We’re over it,” Draco says gruffly, clumping up in his shitkickers to retrieve the axe. “You two bring Zara with you like Mallory told you?”
“Like I’d let them leave me behind?” Zara snorts and saunters in like the badass she is, looking good enough to lick in her catsuit, tiny and curvy and formidable, with her teal braid coiled tight round her head like Princess Leia inThe Empire Strikes Back. “Hey, Mal.”
Mordred, Vasili, and Neo crowd in behind her. V’s still levitating, and his sharp gaze shoots straight to me, scanning every centimeter of my body for the slightest injury. You’d not know it to look at his aloof and wintry face, but he caught my telepathic broadside of battle adrenaline full on.
Bollocks, he’ll never admit it.
But he’s worried about me.
I’m a literal sucker for Vasili Romanov, always have been, and my stupid heart gives a ping at the sight of him. But I tamp that shit down, give him a curt nod to let him know I’m not bleeding out, and force myself to turn away.
He’s got to get over his pissing match with Zeph. Got to. They’re making me mental. Those two were bloody made for each other.
If they’d just stop trying to kill each other.
“Ohmygosh, Zara!” Mal’s freckled face lights up in a smile that makes her gray eyes glow like stars. The two girls rush together for a hug and a hurried jumble of words, while Mordred leers and jokes about wanting to be the bacon in a schoolgirl sandwich.
The whole time, Draco glowers at the sex demon and me like he’d fancy setting us both on fire.
Me, I’m left wondering where Zeph and Ash have gotten to, and whether Lucius has pitched up here at all.
We’ve three warlocks in our polycule gone missing. And I don’t bloody like it.
The lovey-dovey Zara-Mallory reunion breaks up when Mal’s Cajun slinks out of the darkness and announces in his singsong cadence, “Coast is clear,chere, but it won’t stay that way. Looks like Zara has the Horn just the way you said, you. We should all go now if we’re going.”
Clearly, Jean-Emilien Labête’s got his wolf back under proper wraps. Fangs, fur, snout, claws all tucked away behind his sinewy human frame. The wicked green glow of his monster stare submerged under his sultry honey-gold human peepers. While he ties his long dreadlocks into a messy ponytail and buttons a crisp Academy uniform shirt over his naked torso, I give the bloke a friendly wink.
Because he’s one of the multitudes Ididshag (once) back in the day.
Come to think of it, that’s probably another reason Draco hates me.
Red doesn’t bother with flirting. He blinks at the werewolf through his bookworm glasses. “Wait, how’d you know Zara has the Horn?”
“And where is it you imagine we are all going?” Max’s slitted dragon pupils narrow in suspicion.
Mallory gives us all a serious look, then swings her flashlight toward the cavern’s shadowy rear. The narrow beam, reflected in the smooth water like a moonbeam on a river of ink, dwindles into the distance without finding the far wall.
“There’s a secret passage back there. I found it while I was researching a term paper for Master Aries’ History of Witchcraft class.” Mal’s studious voice bounces off the walls. “The passage leads to the church crypt—or at least, it used to. We need to use it. Because Cleo has every witch and warlock in House Tiberius standing between you, that Horn, and the Academy Vault. But Idon’t think she knows about the passage. I mean, nobody does. Except us.”
“Hmmm.” Still levitating, Vasili zips down the reservoir’s length to examine the rear. Blimey, it’s dark as the Devil’s arsehole back there.
But V’s part shifter, he can see in the dark.
His hollow voice echoes faintly from the walls and the distant ceiling like he’s trapped at the bottom of a deep dark well. “I presume we’re supposed to conclude, McSnicker, that you intend to help Zara win the Dean’s Challenge from the goodness of your First Girl heart? We’re meant to trust the monster, the mafioso, and the conscientious Goody Two Shoes hall monitor who’s never met a rule she’ll break, even in the most minuscule way?”
“Jae isn’t a monster,” Mallory says flatly. “And Draco’s not your average Mars. Plus we wouldn’t be breaking any rules, not the way I’m proposing. And finally, we’re not just doing this to be nice.”
“Time to bend over, loves,” I mutter to my mates. “Here it bloody comes.”
“And not in a good way.” Max gives Zara a look that’s meant to warn her to be careful.
Yeah, good luck with that, mate.
Of course he’s all broody, he wants her clutching dragon eggs in his Siberian lair, not mucking about with secret passages down here. Not that I eavesdrop on what goes down in his noggin, that’s bad manners for a telepath without an invite. But he broadcasts that shit on all psychic channels.
While Jae twists his uniform tie into a careless knot at his throat, Draco leans against a pillar and crosses his brawny arms over his chest. His handsome puss darkens in a scowl. “Hel, Romanov. Stop flitting around like a bat back there.”
“Abat?” I can’t even see Vasili, but I know he’s pouting. “Really. There’s no need to be offensive.”
