Page 36 of Gemini Hunted (Dark Witch Academy #5)

At the sight of these two, a starburst of relief lights me up like Fourth of July fireworks. My heart explodes in a pinwheel of joy.

“Oh, my fucking God.” I launch myself at both of them, both my mates. I’m way too wildly relieved to find them both alive and ambulatory to even wonder what they’re doing together (since they hate each other). “Thank fuck you’re both okay—I mean, are you both okay?”

We meet in a jumble of limbs and bodies, because they’re both intent on holding me and kissing me first. So we end up in a three-way hug, their arms around my waist, my arms thrown over their shoulders, with me kissing both of them simultaneously, which means the two of them are also kinda kissing each other.

Mmmm.

Three-way hug. Three-way kiss. Three-way everything.

This I can handle.

The cloves-and-nutmeg spice of Zephyr’s kiss mingles with the juniper bite of Vasili’s. The hot lick of Zephyr’s tongue meets the snakebite prick of Vasili’s fangs.

Wow. These two guys together, the two most intense warlocks in my harem? They’ve never worked together like this before.

They’re… a lot. Almost too much to handle.

Even for me.

I pull back to suck in a desperate breath, the leather-and-brimstone reek of dragon mixing with the caramel and musk of V’s Mogadon mating scent.

Because my dominant alpha is scenting really heavily.

My fingers skate over the tips of Zephyr’s ears (erogenous zone, always makes him shiver) and sift through V’s moussed-up mess of hair.

I’m checking for hidden injury beyond that scary-looking lump on his cranium, but not finding any.

Me backing off the kiss lets them turn into each other, eating at each other’s mouths with savage intent. Just a lick of fiery kiss that’s somewhere between a warning and a promise.

Mmmm, that looks tasty, my dragon queen purrs.

“Doesn’t it?” I whisper back, wondering what the hell I missed. Because, until this exact moment, these two warlocks couldn’t stand each other.

I mean, not that I’m complaining…

Without looking away, I sense Lucius coming up behind me.

I reach back and pull him into the hug. V surfaces from whatever intense thing is happening between him and Zephyr to claim Lucius in a hard devouring kiss.

My headmaster rumbles at V to reassure him too, then rubs his jaw against Zephyr’s to scent him, which makes Zephyr smile (just for a blink).

“Hey, group hug! Can I join?” Mordred’s baritone purr pulls me out of the moment.

The incubus is bipedal again, God help us all, wiry hips and quads encased in those scaly pants that cut across the sinewy flex of his Adonis belt.

Those pants seem to be part of the demon dress code, like the sealskin pouch slanting across his naked chest. The substantial lump inside that pouch shouts Horn of Ceres here, hello! to my newly triggered clairvoyance.

Thank fuck, we’ve still got the prize.

But that sex demon’s a major distraction.

Water glistens along the bronze plane of his pecs and trickles down the luscious bulge of his biceps. The indigo sleeve of his tattoo sheathes his arm from shoulder to knuckles. The wet tangle of his midnight-blue hair spills over broad shoulders.

His hot purple eyes slide down my naked body like a lick of tongue. That look tightens my nipples and pools honey in my cunny.

God, I’m in trouble.

Just a look from this guy’s enough to make me wet.

When he catches me watching, his dimples pop. “So… group hug?”

“Uh, no group hug. Not when half of us are nakey,” I manage to say. “Nice try though.”

“Can’t blame a guy for askin’, true?” He grins at me. “I’m a sex demon, baby queen. And you’re sexy as fuck. Plus nakey. You and the prof both.” He leans to one side a little to check out Lucius. “The way I see it, it’d be rude not to ask.”

I don’t need to see Lucius to know he’s blushing.

My headmaster, raised by his very traditional Hungarian grandpa in an actual castle, is uber-reserved and modest in front of strangers. Hell, the way that incubus is eyeing my exposed ass (since my exposed front is still engulfed in Zephyr and V) is even making me blush

“There you are, demon,” Vasili sniffs. Even looking kinda the worse for wear, with dust clinging to his mascara, he manages a snaky sneer. “I felt certain you’d abandoned us.”

Mordred’s easy grin stays in place, but his sly eyes narrow. “Y’all told me to hide, not fight. You’re my summoner. When you’re silent, I got me some leeway. But when you issue orders, I gotta do what you say. You don’t like the result? Gimme more leeway next time, babydoll.”

“Duly noted,” V murmurs. “And don’t call me babydoll. How’s that for an order?”

Mordred gives him a pout, then a playful wink. Vasili turns away with a huff and wanders over to investigate the rubble-strewn tunnel—now mostly clear, thanks to the kraken’s efforts.

Mordred watches him go with eyes that smolder like purple embers.

One of the things I find most appealing about our temporary sex demon ally is that he’s a true pansexual and so damn open about it.

As far as I can tell, he has zero sexual hangups of any kind.

(Which is kinda refreshing, given the history of our polycule.) He’s straightforward about being as much into my guys as he’s into me.

And the fact that I’m even thinking about his sexuality instead of the reassuring bulge of the Horn of Ceres in his messenger bag tells me he’s doing it again.

Sexing us up.

We don’t have time for this shit, for real.

With some difficulty, I avert my gaze from Mordred’s sexy smirk to the backpack now resting near Zephyr’s booted feet.

“Is that Max’s pack?” I ask. “Because if it is, I’ve got clothes in there. I need ’em.” Being a shifter, I’ve learned to plan ahead for that shit.

“If you must.” Zephyr eyes my naked curves with a hungry look, then passes me the pack and pivots to plant his lean body squarely between me and Mordred’s lascivious stare.

“Sorry, but I gotta.” I’m afraid to ask, but I need to know. “If this is Max’s pack, then where’s Max?”

Over the crossed swords that rise above his shoulders, the Dark Fae twists to bare his tiny fangs at me in a feral grin. “That dragon of yours is a most fearsome beast. I rather approve of your taste, my bride.”

“Glad to hear it, Your Transcendence,” I drawl. “So where is he?”

“I’ve sent him ahead to the Vault, along with Ash and Ronin and Xhevith, to sow terror and dismay among your enemies,” Zephyr says with fiendish relish.

“As your advance guard, they’ll prepare the way admirably for your royal arrival.

With any luck, they’ll also draw off some of your four-legged pursuers. ”

“Oh, thank fuck.” For at least the third time in the past ten minutes, a surge of debilitating relief for the safety of my guys sends me for a loop like a corkscrew coaster. A breath I didn’t even realize I was holding rushes out of my lungs in a whoosh.

The hills and plummets of this adrenaline surge I’m riding are exhausting. I’d like nothing more than to get off this carnival ride.

But first, I gotta get this Horn back into the Vault and Cleo’s aerobicized ass outta my throne.

I lock onto Zephyr’s keen jade stare and lean in to cup the hard plane of his cheek in a gentle hand. “Thank you for that, Your Radiance. Thanks for taking care of my guys.”

“I live to serve my bride,” he whispers, just for me.

That just makes me wanna explore other ways the Dark Fae King can be of service.

Feeling all warm and tingly, I pull back from his magnetic pull and hunker down to dig through the pack, with Lucius hovering hopefully at my side, my headmaster clearly praying I’ll find him some pants to replace the ones he shredded in his shift.

He’s way more bothered by his own nakedness than I am by mine, so I make him the first priority.

I root through the mess of Max’s gear (that dragon’s a thorough packer, but not tidy) and pass Lucius a pair of Ronin’s leather trows.

They’ll be an interesting fashion choice on Lucius, but he accepts the garment with a grateful murmur.

Me, I wiggle into a pair of lime-green lace panties. I’m working my way into the matching underwire bra, tucking my tits into the lace cups and keenly aware of the sex demon watching my every move, when I realize I’m not the only one who’s fixated on the incubus.

“You left the matter of your dramatic intervention in this lethal battle rather late, cousin, did you not?” my Dark Fae says pointedly to the demon. “You could have hidden the Horn and joined the fight without violating the essence of your summoner’s command. This, thou art clever enough to know.”

Always a bad sign when Zephyr goes all ancient Fae formal.

“Dude, you sound Biblical. It’s the twenty-first century.” Mordred snorts. “Just come out and say it, in modern English.”

“Very well.” Zephyr’s narrow frame bristles with threat. “Were you waiting to see which side prevailed, so you could ally yourself with the winner?”

That’s a possibility I never considered, in the heat of the moment. Now I wonder if it’s true.

Finally, Mordred’s gaze shifts from my tits to my suspicious face, then veers to my Dark Fae consort. “Just playin’ it safe, cuz.”

“Very safe indeed, kinsman,” Zephyr says in that voice like gray silk. “I never knew you for a coward.”

Behind me, Lucius pulls in a slow breath.

Shit. Like they say in the cartoons, them’s fightin’ words.

These two Fae have an ocean of bad blood between them, Zephyr’s never really bought into the story that Mordred only tried to dethrone him back on Avalon because the demon was powerless to disobey his summoner.

Now seems to be the moment the whole unresolved mess between these two political rivals is coming to a boil.

I rush into the crisp French poplin of my school blouse and start buttoning.

“Yeah, well, the other team’s got a shark and a sea dragon, you feel me?

” Mordred drawls. “You want me following the prime directive from He Who Shall Not Be Named Babydoll and guarding that Horn? Meant I needed to cover my tentacled ass, true? Found me and the Horn a nice dark grotto down there and sat tight.”

“Perhaps ’tis so,” Zephyr breathes. “Or perhaps ’tis merely easier for one who is barely half Fae to lie.”

Cheese on toast.

By now, it’s so quiet in this chamber, I swear you could hear a mosquito hiccup. I drag my plaid schoolgirl skirt (burgundy, for Wednesday) over my hips, pull up the zipper, and leap to my feet.

My words tumble out in a rush. “Well, he’s here now, and the Horn’s safe, so we’re all good—”

“Tell you one thing that’s the gods’ truth,” Mordred says softly, locked on Zephyr like a heat-seeking missile.

“You’re still so scared I’ll end up stealing your crown and warming your throne and fucking your consorts, sweet cuz, that you’re pissin’ yourself in that pretty green armor. And that’s no lie.”

In a blur of speed that’s almost too fast for the human eye to follow, Zephyr unsheathes his double swords in a hiss of steel on leather. Slicing the deadly blades through the air till they sing, he springs for the demon with an animal snarl of rage.