Page 22 of Gemini Hunted (Dark Witch Academy #5)

Zara

“Eeek!” Mordred giggles. “Is that a haunted house?”

“Quiet.” Max levels a repressive look at the giggling demon we’re reluctantly dragging with us through the forest toward Villa Caligula. That’s the domus for House Hadrian, which isn’t our residential college at all. It’s Mallory’s.

That’s where Mal and her guys are (secretly) meeting us.

We motored in this morning from the yacht on the reliable Filibuster, then dragged the dinghy ashore and hid it in a sea cave they used to stow bootleg liquor, like a hundred years ago, in the Academy’s Prohibition era.

As we sneak through the creepy forest that huddles against the villa’s flanks, we catch glimpses of the tumbledown structure through gaps in the bristly vault of evergreen branches hanging over us.

Dark and spooky in the pearly gray mist of a rainy morning, the college’s crooked walls and twisted turrets lean over the sea cliff like a suicide getting ready to jump.

Villa Caligula, my ass. That place is straight outta The Addams Family.

Despite the ominous vibe their domus gives off, Mal and her menage are friendlies. That was still Max’s read when Mallory signaled him down from the skies with a flashlight for a huddled consult on the sea cliff last night.

Those three (Mal and her guys) were the first to join the revolution and side with us when Cleo stole my crown. Her guys weird me out, but I do trust Mal.

Still, the Dean’s Challenge is in full swing.

Only one team can win.

So we’re all twitchy as fuck.

Except for Mordred, who’s still giggling.

With Neo’s preppy raincoat hanging open around the sex demon’s bare bronze chest and Aquaman pants, his webbed feet laced into a pair of V’s chunky combat boots, and the messenger bag holding the Horn of Ceres bumping against his hip, that incubus oughta look ridiculous.

Even though he left his big trident on the boat.

Instead, that naked expanse of flexing chest and sculpted abs makes me wanna lick him all over like an ice cream cone. Starting at the top of his corded neck and just working my way down. All the way to that thick bulge between his thighs.

I give a hard swallow and remind myself of a few difficult truths.

Sex demon. This shit isn’t real. He’s sexing you up.

Plus it’s pretty obvi Mordred’s having a similar effect on Vasili. I mean, my snake did bite the guy, so of course V’s pheromones are going alpha batshit crazy. I saw it this morning when he loaned the demon his footwear.

(By loaned , I mean V dropped the shoes at Mordred’s feet and basically forced the demon to wear them.)

“Awwww,” Mordred teased at the time, with one of his trademark winks. “Master has given Dobby a sock.”

Without missing a beat, V fired back, “It places the boots on its feet or else it gets the hose again.”

The chilling effect of Vasili Romanov going all Hannibal Lector would be a lot to handle for the average demon.

But not this one.

Mordred only flashed his dimples and whispered to me, “I think he likes me. Do you think he likes me?”

Like I said.

Sex magic.

His is some potent shit.

Adding to the spooky atmosphere in this shadowy forest, with mist winding through the trunks and cool rain plopping through the branches, a bat flutters into view and nearly gets tangled in the demon’s blue hair.

“Eeee!” Mordred squeals like a girl, then giggles again.

At least one of us is enjoying himself.

Like, thoroughly .

“Ssshhh,” I remind him, settling the duffel bag we’ve converted to a breathable cat carrier more securely over my shoulder.

Despite our current circumstances, just thinking about that fluffy white kitten asleep inside on a thick soft towel, her little tummy distended with a good tuna breakfast, makes my whole chest flood with warmth.

Zephyr did himself a solid with that kitten.

I really hope he and V can work their shit out.

Mordred lowers his rumbly baritone approximately one decibel to a piercing whisper that’s practically a roar. “ Is it a haunted house though? Sure looks like one.”

“Why don’t you bloody bellow that shit through a police bullhorn, mate?” Ronin hisses.

Clad head to toe in assassin black like the trained killer he is, Ronin creeps through the trees at the head of our huddled group without snapping a single twig.

He’s tracking Lucius’ shifted paw prints (which I can’t even see) through the detritus of evergreen needles and pinecones and rotted wood that carpets the forest.

I know, I know. Evergreen isn’t the right kinda flora for the Med.

But this is an enchanted island, so the magical wards that hide us from the normals also mess with the climate.

“For fuck’s sake. Should’ve left you on the blooming boat,” Ronin mutters as Mordred capers along happily beside us.

“You need me on this gig,” Mordred says comfortably. “Besides, imma grow on you. Always do.”

Ronin scoffs and rolls his fiery topaz eyes. “Just mind that fucking Horn and keep your gob shut, mate. That’s all we need from you.”

If only that were true.

I’m just coming out of a big superheat, so everything about this incubus who’s taken up residence in my harem is extra distracting.

The way his scaly pants cling to his thick thighs and sinewy calves and the hard globes of his bitable ass is disturbing, for real.

He’s like Quadzilla forging through the trees ahead of me, with that tangle of ink-blue hair spilling down his back.

I wanna sit him down with a hairbrush and tidy him up.

Then mess him back up again.

Shit.

“I’ll be quiet, hot stuff.” The demon leers at Ronin’s own ass, which could fucking stop traffic in his fighting leathers. “Long as I get me a reward later.”

“ Later , I suspect,” Vasili murmurs with poisonous spite as he winds through the trees like a rattlesnake beside me, “you’ll be roasting that tight demon ass of yours in hellfire.

The moment we return that Horn, your Unseelie tyrant of a cousin intends to banish you back to the demonical realm that spawned you. ”

“Does he now.” Mordred turns around to walk backward and winks.

When his gaze lands on me, that demon’s purple eyes turn crafty in a way I find worrying.

Vasili stalks through the woods at my side, looking wicked as fuck in his punk-rock twist on the Academy uni, glittery violet combat boots thudding into the earth.

With his moussed-up hair and smoky eyes and black-lacquered nails and pissed-off pout, my dominant alpha is rocking his Duran Duran today.

With Lucius and his keen wolfish senses in the lead, though not currently visible as he scouts ahead, Ash and Zephyr guard our rear.

That way, my Dark Fae can keep his eye on all of us…

especially Mordred… and Vasili, who is (very subtly) staying as far from the kitten as possible.

(And how could I not have known my snake is afraid of cats?)

Long story short? We’ve barely managed to cobble my distrustful polycule together enough to run this heist.

It kills me to admit this.

But we’re only together on the surface.

Ronin, who’s blatantly been a card-carrying member of Team Zephyr in the Vasili-Zephyr throwdown since the exact moment V summoned that demon, hasn’t spoken a syllable to Vasili all day.

Plus Zephyr won’t speak to any of my guys except Ash, Ronin, and an extremely contrite Neo, who’s just too endearing to ignore.

Guess we’re back to Square One on integrating Zephyr (and therefore Ash, since those two are a package deal) into my harem.

When I swing my makeshift cat carrier to my other side to give my shoulder a break, Vasili edges away from the cat.

But he does it in a way that’s too subtle for anyone else to notice.

You really shoulda told me, Goblin King, I tell my dominant alpha softly through our mating bond. Because this isn’t the kinda shit you say out loud to a snake like him. It’s called ailurophobia. I looked it up. Fear of cats.

Vasili’s glacial eyes flash like danger beacons. I’m not afraid! I simply don’t care for the detestable creatures.

“She’s just a kitten, bad boy,” I whisper, clutching the strap of my duffel. “And she needs us. She really does.”

Our bond fills up with his silence. A silence that’s more raw than lurky. With Ronin still so pissed and broody, plus all V’s insecurities about Zephyr and now his secret fear of cats exposed, my Goblin King’s morning really has been kinda sucky.

“Isn’t anyone ever gonna answer my question?” Mordred asks at an alarming volume. “I said— ”

“Hush!” I whisper in a rush, sensing both Ronin and Max about to launch into orbit.

“It is, okay? Villa Caligula actually is a haunted house. I mean, kinda. It’s really old and falling down, the basement’s condemned, it used to be the Academy dungeon in medieval times.

They used to torture the students in detention, and rumor says a bunch of them died down there—”

“And that’s where we’re going?” Mordred asks, wide-eyed.

At speaking volume, natch.

“Way to sell the place, love. But yeah, that’s where Mal wants to meet.” Ronin glances sharply at Neo. “Mind you don’t step in that trap, Red.”

That’s what Ronin calls Neo.

Red.

On account of our bookworm’s constant blushing.

“Is that a bear trap?” Neo gasps, giving the horrible rusty-jawed thing—yawning wide and half hidden in the fallen foliage—a very wide berth.

“Mantrap,” Ronin says grimly. “They’ve got a new sheriff in town at Mal’s domus . Forced retirement for Mistress Aggie. She’s been back-benched to make way for a proper headmaster. Not sure I fancy the new bloke, considering.”

“Yeah, me neither.” I frown at the mantrap. “New sheriff or not, what’s that thing even doing out here? We’re literally on school grounds.”

I’m indignant, for real.

I don’t need any help spotting and avoiding hidden mantraps, because cat burglar, I’m trained for that shit.

But that doesn’t mean I like it.

Or Mal’s new headmaster.