Page 5 of Gemini Hunted
As I trudge across the exposed platform of the afterdeck through muggy air that’s thick as soup, the lowering skies finally open. Preceded by the tinny tang of ozone, a sheet of rain hisses across the open water behind me, drums against the deck, and drenches me to the skin in like five seconds.
The jagged silhouette of the tiny islet, whose craggy cliffs protect and hide the little pocket cove where we’re moored, vanishes in an eyeblink behind a gray curtain of rain.
At least the thunder of torrential rain against the hull muffles the whiplash snap of Zephyr’s raised voice—electricwith frustration and wrath—crackling from the salon. The jab and slice of Vasili’s cutting retort (because that snake never raises his voice, even when he’s furious) is almost blunted by the rain.
Almost.
“…because if you’re not singing to Zara’s tune in perfect fucking pitch with the rest of us, darling,” Vasili hisses, sharp as a hornet, “you and that flying Godzilla of yours are welcome to exit this harem stage left. Straight back through that portal to the Avalon hell that spawned you…”
Before I can hear any more of this upsetting argument, I duck into the covered companionway, fumble off my glasses, and make a futile attempt to dry my lenses on the soaked hem of my polo shirt. In the blurry dark, while rain thunders against the roof, I slick a hand over my face to swipe the water out of my eyes. Then I park my still rain-streaked glasses resolutely on my nose.
For whatever limited good that does.
I still can’t see.
But at least I can’t hear any more fighting either.
I hunch my shoulders miserably (because the stairs are narrow, the ceiling’s low, and my shoulders are broad) and trudge up the steep ladder to the quarterdeck.
My steps are slow for obvious reasons.
Zara and Ronin won’t need pickup at the extraction point for a while. We agreed in advance to give them extra time. And honestly, I’m fed up with my guys fighting like this. Our polycule’s whole dynamic right now is exhausting, for real. Vasili’s been riding Zephyr’s ass (and not in the way we’d all like) since way before we all zipped through the portal to Icarus this morning to join the Dean’s Challenge.
Two days late.
We’re late to join the Challenge due to Zara and Vasili getting suspended for fighting with Cleo and her sidekicks in the student commons. Even Lucius got suspended by the Dean from his headmaster duties—just for being in the room when it happened, I guess.
Never mind the fact that Vasili’s terrifying father (who’s on Cleo’s side and not ours) was literally holding Lucius hostage at knifepoint the whole time.
Anyway, that disciplinary call the Dean made was so unfair. I’m still indignant. Cleo started that fight with Zara and got off scot free. Now our team is days behind everyone else in the whole Academy in our hunt for the Horn of Ceres.
At least we have a hidden advantage, thanks to Zara’s secret new superpowers, thatshouldhelp us close the gap—
“You just gonna stand there all night drippin’ on the deck, kid?” A rumbly drawl from the captain’s cabin, practically on top of me, almost makes me jump out of my skin. “C’mon up here and lemme getcha dried off.”
I rub my chest to quiet my pounding heart (which is racing now for multiple reasons, yay) and peer through my glasses up the ladder at the captain’s cabin.
Framed in the open door with the blue glow of the navigation console behind him, the familiar form of a massive male fills the space, crowned with a spiky head of pewter hair. Cool electric light outlines the naked bulge of muscled shoulders, bare biceps thick enough to sink your teeth into, and the tight ripple of abs that won’t quit, knifing down to a pair of distressed jeans that ride low on his hips and cling to his thick quads.
With his naked feet spread comfortably to command the space and a steaming mug gripped in one big hand, my new boyfriend looks more like a vagabond sailor—or a pirate—than the Prince of the Light Born Fae.
“Ash!” I squeak, like a mouse or something. “Gosh, you scared the heck out of me.”
“Sorry.” Ash braces one powerful arm against the doorframe, biceps flexing under the inky tat of bloody thorns wound around the muscle in a way that’s practically hypnotic. “Kid, you look like a wet puppy. Lemme get you a towel and some hot coffee before you catch a cold or something.”
“Okay.” I heave out a breath. “Thanks.”
While rain hammers against the roof like hail, I hustle across the quarterdeck and swarm up the ladder.
Ash steps back to let me in.
As I duck past, I catch the patient drone of Lucius’ voice drifting from the salon, worn thin and ragged around the edges. “My dears, it’s pointless to prolong this wrenching debate. Zara has, all too clearly, made her choice. We don’t even know if the demon followed us through the portal—”
Ash casually nudges the door closed behind me to shut us both in.
That action blocks out the vicious volley of argument and counterargument still ping-ponging back and forth on the main deck.
Which I don’t think is a coincidence.
