Page 83 of Gemini Hunted
“Indeed.” Moving carefully so he doesn’t reopen a wound, Lucius studies my worried face with his knowing gaze, then sweeps his tumble of curls out of his face into a tidy knot at the back of his neck.
That action is just soLuciusthat he stops me in my tracks. My eyes devour my alpha—my wonderful, steady, strong, reliable headmaster that we all count on in so many ways.
My wise mentor. My precious mate. My wolf king. The one I just almost lost.
After all, he’s the reason I’m doing this, they all are. All my guys. All my loved ones. I’ve always known I don’t give a single shit about being queen for my own sake.
I’m not saving the witching world for me.
I’m saving it forthem.
Not for power. Or greed. Or ambition.
I’m saving it for love.
Suddenly, my chest burns, my throat swells, and my eyes are overflowing.
Again.
“God, Lucius.” I hurl myself across the space between us, burrow into my mate’s surprised body, and throw my arms around his neck. My face tucks into his strong shoulder to breathe his familiar wolfish scent in deep.
“We could’ve lost you,” I mumble into his skin. “We can’t—Ican’t—ever lose you. Not ever.”
He’s still barely standing, but he handles my needs the way he always has. My alpha’s arms close around me, he nuzzles the scars of my mating bite where my neck meets my shoulder, and he murmurs soothing words likethere, thereandit’s all rightand (my personal favorite)you’ve been such a good girl.
I mean, he isn’t my alpha for nothing.
He knows what I need and he gives it to me.
Same as always.
“I love you, Lucius,” I whisper into his shoulder and into his mind. “I mean it. You’re one of the first I knew I loved. You and Neo. You make the rest of us—all the psychos in this polycule—complete.”
“My dear girl, what makes us allcompleteis you. The way you love all of us. The way we love all of you. From your tender heart to your flexible morals, from your voracious sexual appetites to your appalling study habits. But most of all, for the way you take care of others.” He pulls in a breath and smooths a firm hand over my hair to settle me. “Speaking of others…”
“Yeah.” I pull in my own shuddery breath, lift my head from his tear-damp shoulder, and step back with a sniffle.“We gotta get our shit together. Those hyenas won’t stay gone forever.”
I’m working to clear my head and suss out what we’ll need to reopen that tunnel (which is probably some variation of me Hulking out again plus V’s telekinesis, assuming we can find him), while simultaneously eyeing that reservoir and wondering if we still even have the Horn of Ceres, because that demon’s been pretty quiet down there…
…when the black water ripples.
The surface ripples in a vee, like a massive arrow or a shark racing under the surface, carving a beeline down the channel, straight toward the jumble of pillars before the tunnel.
“Shit,” I whisper, all echoey in the stillness. “I really hope that’s Mordred—”
An inky tentacle, glowing a wicked violet with phosphorescence and thicker than a cruise ship anchor chain, shoots from the water and wraps around a fallen chunk of column. Then a tangle of tentacles uncurls from the deep. And the whole damn monster heaves into view.
That’s Mordred all right.
In, like, his kraken form.
He’s massive when he’s shifted, night-black and glistening under that eerie blue-violet glow, just a spaghetti of thick tentacles covered with indigo suckers that’s gotta make it easier for him to grip. He’s like the monster inLord of the Ringsthat erupts from the pond to drive Frodo and the gang into the Mines of Moria.
Even knowing that kraken is (theoretically) on our side, I totally understand the elemental sense of terror that sent those hobbits fleeing frantically into the mine.
Cruel beak gaping, the kraken hurls a whole pillar aside. Through clouds of rock dust, I glimpse a fast-moving streak ofgreen dragonscale emerging from the rubble like a cork popping from a bottle.
My heart leaps into my throat and wedges in my gullet. Then a boiling murk of rock dust obscures my view.
