Page 21 of Gemini Hunted (Dark Witch Academy #5)

Whoever good old Uncle Puck may be, apparently his nephew considers him eminently capable of treason, demon-summoning, and regicide.

“Your cuz says he’s not jonesing for your throne anymore. Now that Beautiful over there’s calling the shots.” Ash jerks his chin at Vasili, still skulking near the window. “Guess this demon is ours now. Kinda like a genie in a lamp.”

“Ours?” Zephyr’s head tilts. “By the moon, ’tis more accurate to say the demon is his. Is that not so, Vasili Romanov?”

Vasili speaks at last, in a voice like silk. “Purely a matter of semantics, darling. I’m Zara’s alpha, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are.” Zara detaches gently from my side and plants a hand on her hip. “Let’s keep that in mind, okay, Goblin King?”

“Unless I’m greatly mistaken, little queen, those are my mating bites you’re wearing.

All three of them. I believe that fact cements my already certain status as your dominant alpha.

I’m yours. And he’s mine.” Vasili’s cruel mouth curls in a smug smile.

“By that logic, my adorable pet demon also belongs to you.”

I know my Vasili very well.

When he sounds like that, he is not to be trusted.

Zara’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

This is because she also knows him very well.

“Bingo. Now we’re getting somewhere. I ain’t here to pinch Cousin Z’s crown, am I?

” Sounding deeply satisfied (which is also suspicious), the demon oozes into our bedroom and swanks across the floor toward Zara.

Lean hips swaying, indigo hair swirling, those damnable dimples digging into his swarthy cheeks above his blue goatee. White teeth flash in a lazy grin.

If he fucks like he walks, I swear, he will make any woman (and many men) scream with pleasure.

And he is still coming.

“For whatever reason you are here, if you wish to keep breathing, kraken, you will come no closer,” I snarl, pushing Zara behind me into Lucius’ waiting arms.

Alphas in a royal harem are traditional rivals, but the alphas in this harem are all lovers. To protect our sovereign, we cooperate. (Even Vasili, who does not have a cooperative bone in his entire lethal body.)

Just beyond the defensive perimeter I have established and thickly scented with my brimstone mating scent, Mordred stops.

“Told you straight up, baby queen. Wanna hop on board the harem train and ride.” The demon eyes my bristling frame, looming threateningly in his path, and winks. “You too, blondie.”

“ What about me?” I growl. I distrust that wink of his.

“You’re that dragon of theirs, true? You look good enough to lick like a popsicle.

” The maddening demon actually licks his lips.

The toothsome scent of rum spice and saltwater taffy fills the air.

“Any chance that scaly critter of yours is maybe amphibious? Cuz if you are? Your dragon? My kraken? Dude. We can make that work.”

“I am not a frog,” I say stiffly. I am deeply affronted.

Even if the thought of stuffing this creature’s impudent mouth with my forked dragon dick does hold a certain (secret) appeal.

At least, in that case, the imp would finally be silent.

“As you may recall I mentioned, Mordred,” Lucius says mildly, coming up in his supportive way beside me, “ours is a committed polycule. Kindly refrain from sexually propositioning our dragon. I’d advise that we focus instead on hearing what Maxim learned on his patrol.

Next, we should establish the strategy we intend to deploy, once this storm finally breaks, to complete the Dean’s Challenge and secure Zara’s reign. ”

“All I’m saying is, it’d be fun to try, wolf daddy.” The demon’s purple eyes dance with mischief. “Anyway, even if I’m not officially in the harem… yet… I’m a friendly. You got my word.”

Never one to hide in the rear of any conflict, Zara pushes forward to stand between Lucius and me. “This demon’s half Unseelie, right, Zephyr? Can he lie?”

“He cannot,” Zephyr says shortly. “At least, not without causing himself immense discomfort. But he rarely reveals everything he knows—only the truths that serve him. Never make the mistake of trusting him.”

“Thanks for the warning, love.” Ronin has been hovering near Zephyr and keeping his back to Vasili.

But he also keeps a wary distance between himself and Ash.

This is another unsolved problem in our harem.

But it is only a problem if Vasili cannot finally rid us of these two Fae, as he surely intends.

(Zephyr is right to be suspicious of my snake and his motives.)

At least Mordred is keeping his distance—for the moment—from Zara. I give him a narrow look, then turn eagerly toward her.

“Here is what I have been trying to tell you. The entirety of House Tiberius is now massed around the church,” I report to my queen, speaking of the gothic cathedral where all our classes are held.

The Academy Vault lies, warded and deadly, in the crypt beneath.

“I spied their formation from the air. This is how I knew you must have claimed the artifact, my sovereign. Now Cleo and her allies will kill to keep you—and the Horn of Ceres—from entering the Vault to return it.”

“Shit,” Zara says grimly. “Guess Cleo must’ve sussed out that we have the Horn. Just our luck that House Tiberius is the biggest residential college at Icarus. That means she’s got a lotta allies.”

“Then it is fortunate we have allies of our own,” I announce proudly. This is the other news I was rushing back to tell her when I smelled a strange male and became distracted. “Allies who know another way—a secret way—to sneak beneath the wards into the Academy Vault… from underneath.”

Curiosity sparks in Zara’s gaze.

But she too is distracted by the kraken.

Mordred has been strolling casually along the edge of my defensive perimeter.

Now he has reached our bed. He launches himself onto the mattress in a powerful belly flop that makes the bed frame groan, crosses his ankles, and swings his bare feet (which are very webbed) in the air.

“Sounds like a gnarly ally to have. Assuming you can trust him.”

“Her,” I say shortly, disliking his presence in our bed intensely. “And, for your information, we can.”

“ Her? Oh, hell to the yeah.” Zara spins toward me and gives an excited little hop. Her big eyes glow ultraviolet. The teal curls lift from her shoulders in a crackle of static charge.

Seeing my sovereign so excited and so hopeful makes me proud to have served her so well. I lean into Lucius, whom I have not yet greeted properly, and rub my chin into his tumbled chestnut mane to scent him as well.

“Hello, Maxim.” Lucius wraps his steady arm around my hips, below my scarred back where I do not like to be touched, and gives me a reassuring squeeze that draws me close against his rangy strength. “You’ve done so very well tonight, dear boy.”

My dragon rumbles happily at him.

I do not know why my dragon (who is an extremely strong alpha) submits to Lucius’ wolf. But I am deeply thankful for it, because that dynamic allows me to submit to Lucius myself, and he is such a worthy male.

“Your ally’s a chick?” Mordred tents his hands under his chin and bats his eyes at Zara playfully. “Will I like her?”

“I assume you mean woman, not small bird.” Wryly Zara eyes the incubus sexing up our bed with his demonic presence. Then she shakes her head and moves decisively toward the dressing table to finish her bedtime ritual, which her recent sexual encounter with Vasili apparently interrupted.

“Yeah, you’ll like her all right,” she says over her shoulder to Mordred. “Almost everyone does. She’s a Hufflepuff.”

“For real?” Mordred scrambles up to sit in a twist of blankets, cross legged and wide-eyed with excitement, like a boy on Christmas morning. “You mean she goes to Hogwarts? I always figured that was a made-up place.”

Vasili gives Ronin’s pointedly averted back a narrow look, then unbends enough to stroll toward the vanity himself, because he and Zara like to primp together. “Oh, don’t be so literal. It’s called a metaphor.”

“You don’t say,” the demon says with a wink, clearly having his fun at V’s expense.

“Nonetheless, the ally in question is certainly real. She’s one of my brightest and most resourceful students, as well as Zara’s loyal friend.” Lucius too looks concerned about the sex demon in our bed, and he is also taking careful note of the tension between V and Ronin.

Still, Lucius never misses an opportunity to offer instruction. “Her name is Mallory McSnicker.”

All this time, Ash has quietly been murmuring to Zephyr near the window, weaving his own personal tapestry of magic around the highly strung Dark Fae, and generally making patient and incremental progress toward persuading a reluctant Zephyr to relinquish his swords without bloodshed.

Now the Seelie Prince starts like someone pricked that impressive tattooed hide of his with a blow dart.

My suspicious gaze veers immediately to the demon. The infernal creature is crawling happily under the duvet and energetically plumping the pillows. In fact, he is giving every appearance of settling in to sleep in my sovereign’s bed.

For the moment, at least, he is not deviling Zephyr—or Ash.

I am replaying the last few moments in my mind when the realization surfaces.

For some reason, the normally calm and unflappable Ash started like a bee-stung stallion the moment he heard Mallory’s name.

Nor is he the only one who is behaving strangely.

For the past several minutes, Vasili has been staring suspiciously at Zephyr’s discarded riding cloak, which is wadded on the chair near the balcony. At first I was not certain why, but my dragonish senses are keen.

Clearly, Vasili too has spotted a small shape inside Zephyr’s cloak…

Squirming.

Now, with an impatient huff, V shifts suddenly into motion, glides forward, and gives the wadded cloak an irritable twitch.

A small feline head, tufted ears quivering over a furry white brow, pokes into view.

“What is that?!” Vasili leaps straight into the air like a cat himself and levitates near the ceiling (a power which is part of his terrible witchcraft) in bristling alarm.

“Oh, Goddess. With all this havoc, I nearly forgot.” Zephyr sighs.

He eyes V’s levitating form. One corner of the Unseelie’s mouth twitches.

“I found this soaked little scrap cowering in the church belfry. Apparently she’s the last of her litter.

Half-starved and soaked to the skin, the poor wretch. ”

Zephyr glances toward Zara, that covert half-smile still lurking. “I seem to recall you once mentioned, my bride, that you wished for a kitten? Consider this a bridal gift.”

“Oh my God, a kitten !” Zara rushes forward, her face transformed, to crouch beside the white kitten.

Eagerly she frees the bedraggled creature and gathers it into her careful arms. “Oh, Zephyr, she’s so sweet!

And so tiny. I think we should definitely feed her right away.

Maybe she can manage a little of that fresh tuna from the galley… ”

It is very true that, for many months, Zara has been longing for a kitten. The rest of us, well, we have all been willing—

Except for Vasili.

Now Lucius hurries off to the galley to fetch the tuna and Ronin rushes to bring Zara a warm dry towel, while Ash offers helpful advice and agrees, in his amiable way, with every cooing endearment and compliment Zara lavishes upon the blinking kitten.

The tiny creature stares bashfully up at Zara—who is clearly her new mother—through wide green eyes shining with trust.

The Unseelie King watches the entire commotion unfold with a small satisfied smile lurking on his feral face.

“Well,” I say to the room with a shrug of resignation, “at least his gifts to her are improving, no? This one is better than the severed head of his enemy, which he gave to her last week.”

“Yo, that was a brother of mine,” Mordred reminds the room lazily, buried to the chin in the comfortable nest of pillows and blankets he has created in our bed. “Total dickhead, though. Deserved to lose his head if you ask me. So I ain’t holding a grudge, just in case anyone’s wondering.”

Vasili, who has been vocal about despising all felines, floats warily down from the ceiling. The full focus of his suspicious gaze is now riveted on the kitten, which Zara is carefully drying and wrapping in the warm towel for a cuddle.

Already, our queen’s face is soft with love. In contrast, V’s pretty face is etched and eloquent with horror.

The kitten mews.

Our sovereign croons.

White to the lips, Vasili mutters, “Oh, fuck .”