Page 43 of Gemini Hunted (Dark Witch Academy #5)

Mordred

“Do you smell something funky?”

The Gemini queen’s whisper barely stirs the heavy silence as the chick and her warlock court wind down the tight coil of the catacomb stairs in single file, with me and my Horn in the middle, like a conga line on a cruise ship.

Only without the booze.

That’s a real shame.

From the front, where the redheaded witch’s broad-beam flashlight sweeps the dark like a lighthouse beacon, the professor’s whisper drifts back. “Indeed, I do. The odor is redolent of manure, rather like… livestock. Wouldn’t you say, Mr. Labête?”

“Ah, smells like a barn to me, oui? ” the werewolf says in his thick bayou growl. “And under the stink of animal shit… I smell death.”

“Go figure.” Zara snorts and edges away from the grisly banister of human bones that mooches along inside the spiral stairs, guarding the deep black drop into infinity in the middle. We already shined our flashlights down there, but that pit’s hella deep.

Too deep to see the bottom.

“Animal, huh?” I take a good sniff myself, but my cranium’s already swimming with the creamy rose and citrus haze of Zara’s heat. Laced with the rich musk of Babydoll—my new lord and master—the drippy punk rock warlock with the cold hands and the hot eyes who’s breathing down my neck.

Just a whiff of Vasili’s Mogadon pheromones makes heat pulse through the double puncture of his bite on my neck. Despite the dank breeze wafting up from the abyss, that heat ripples over my bare skin and makes me sweat.

I already got one hand planted on Zara’s tiny waist, kinda guarding her from that scary drop. Now my free hand rises to find the inflamed punctures at the side of my neck.

From behind, the warlock’s cool fingers brush my heavy mane of hair outta the way. “Is my bite troubling you, demon?”

“Feels kinda achy,” I admit. “Might need you to kiss it better, bae.”

Because isn’t that what these alpha shifters are supposed to do? That’s what Lucius the prof said. Babydoll—Vasili—he’s supposed to take care of me.

It’s all I can manage not to laugh out loud. Like the mortals say, LOL. If he does take care of me, that’ll be a change. He’d literally be the first.

Babydoll’s hot whisper slithers into my pointed ear.

“It’s a mating bite. You need to be fucked.”

The heat pulsing through my body gathers in my junk. This time I give in to a low chuckle. “I am so totally down with that plan.”

Zara’s little hand snakes back to thread her fingers through mine. “Can I watch?”

“Me too?” The bookworm’s hopeful voice rises behind Vasili.

I’m kinda flattered at the attention, no lie, since I’m not even working right now to rizz anyone up.

Neo’s schlepping that kitten and a loaded backpack, but the guy doesn’t sound winded.

He’s an appealing kid, for real, with those soft curls falling around his earnest face and those big eyes blinking behind his schoolboy specs.

Definitely a royal favorite, the way Zara cuddles and loves on him.

Plus I’ve seen Cousin Z give him that predatory once-over that tells me Neo Mercury’s got a hot date coming with the St. Andrew’s Cross fuck-me furniture suspended over the Dark Fae King’s royal bed back in Avalon.

“Ain’t got no problem with that,” I say from the heart. “Truth. Hells, you can all join right in if you—”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Babydoll says coolly, like the pissy little bitch he can sometimes be. “I’m your alpha.”

“Well, whatever you decide, alpha, ” Zara says wryly, “you better decide soon. I guess maybe you don’t know this, Mordred, but alpha shifter spunk is laced with biochemicals to break a mating fever.”

“Yeah, and that’s a major thing,” Neo pipes up.

“Ronin got mating fever after Lucius first bit him. Only Ronin was sulking and wouldn’t let Lucius take care of him.

He almost died— I mean Ronin—before Lucius kinda took matters into his own hands, I mean paws.

They’re both totally in love now, but that’s how Lucius and Ronin first hooked up—”

“Hush.” That’s Lucius—the prof—and his chiding whisper sounds all embarrassed. “Mr. Labête and I are trying to listen for any pursuit.”

“You may be certain there is none behind us.” Cousin Z’s silver voice cascades down the stairs from behind. “If anyone dares to follow, Dracomir Guemundur Mars and I will address the matter.”

Hardy-har. Address the matter.

I just bet they will.

Cousin Z’s never minded a little murder. I wasn’t even surprised when he capped my late unlamented brother—a real piece of work—and buried the dude’s head in Zara’s garden to help her roses grow.

And even though Zephyr just threatened Draco again by trotting out his full monicker, the Icelander’s grim chuckle in reply sounds psychotic.

Those two are a good choice for guard duty. I mean it. An axe-murder psycho and a feral Fae tyrant.

We all fall silent for a while. My webbed feet are clumsy in Babydoll’s borrowed combat boots, so I gotta take care groping down these stairs in the dark. If I miss a step and go down, imma take Zara and her skinny redheaded friend and all those guys in front down with me like dominoes.

Lucky if we don’t all break our necks.

But Zara’s warm little hand stays soft and trusting in mine, tugging me along after her like she and that dragon queen of hers are actually glad I’m here. My kraken slithers around in my skin and gives a happy rumble at the thought.

I rest my fingers over the double punctures on my neck. When I’m not all sexed up (which is rarely), no lie, that bite does ache. Might even be starting to seep a little.

Babydoll hisses in my ear, “Stop fussing with the bite, do , or you’ll make it worse. I’ll take care of you when we stop, shall I?”

His hot tongue flickers over the tip of my ear, there and gone in a blink. Hells’ bells. He might as well have shoved his pretty hand down my pants and squeezed my junk.

An audible groan slips outta me. “Don’t be a fucking tease. If you’re gonna jump my bones to break my fever, you better mean that shit.”

Zara glances over her shoulder, ponytail swinging pertly, her sweet face alive with mischief. “You do have options, you know, Mordred. If the Goblin King isn’t playing nice, you can always ask Max or Lucius for a fuck.”

“Or you,” I say gruffly, speaking over the prof’s startled exclamation up front and Vasili’s huff of annoyance behind. “You’re an alpha too, baby queen. You and that cute teal dragon.”

A chirp of interest, like a bird sound, slips between her sweet lips. That’s her dragon sounding off, I bet, adding her two cents to the convo.

Zara’s glowing turquoise eyes slide over my naked chest and pause on the Horn in my messenger bag in a way that makes the ancient fertility relic hum with interest against my hip. Then her smoldering eyes drop to my crotch.

I swear to fuck, it’s all I can manage not to press her sweet hand to my dicks. All that holds me back (barely, in my current horndog state) is the knowledge that I’m a lot to handle down there when you ain’t prepared.

For real.

“Sweet Jesus. I’ll tend your bite, I promise,” she whispers, gaze roaming slowly back over my abs and pecs till she finds my face. “As soon as we stop for a breather. All the alphas in this polycule like to share. But no sexing me up like you are right now. Do we have a deal, Aquaman?”

A broad grin breaks over my face. “Shit, I ain’t sexing you up. That’s my natural rizz, not my hocus-pocus. You’re into me, baby queen. You’re so into me.”

Behind me, Babydoll voices kinda this snort of disdain.

But the butterscotch scent of his Mogadon pheromones kicks up a notch.

Succinct as shit, he says clearly, “Darling girl, we’ll work on him together.

You lick and I’ll fuck. The last thing we need is this demon distracted by mating fever when we’re trying to break into the Vault and win the Challenge. ”

“He’s so altruistic, our Goblin King.” Zara’s turquoise eyes dance with mischief as she glances between us. “Who knew?”

“Yeah, he hides it, like, really well.” From behind Babydoll, Neo gives a happy-sounding chuckle that’s almost a giggle. The kid’s enjoying their banter even when he’s not directly part of it.

Me? I’m grinning ear to ear like a kid at Christmas.

Feeling the energy dance between this baby queen and her court, these warlocks she’s all gonna crown and turn into kings, I get why they all orbit around the chick like planets around a sun.

I do, I get it.

Even grumpy Cousin Z in the rear whose suspicious frown drills into the back of my noggin.

They’re all freaks and misfits, each in their own way, they’re all different from the normals.

Just like me.

Yet somehow, their love for each other has stitched this crazy quilt of shifters and witches and Fae into the thing I’ve never had and always wanted.

A family.

All that love wraps around them like a blanket. They all belong here. They’ve all found their place. They’ve all created this safe space that lets them be who they are, without fear of ridicule or rejection.

Fuck me, I want that. I want that for myself. I want it so bad I can taste it.

The ache of longing for that shit—a sense of belonging, acceptance, a real family like the one they’ve stitched together—burns in my chest like heartbreak. I can taste my own yearning clogging the back of my throat like tears. All those tears I never let myself shed.

Instead, I learned to laugh.

When you laugh hard enough and you laugh long enough, people stop trying to make you cry.

Hells. At this point, imma cry like a baby.

Lucky for me, this is the exact moment Zara bumps up against Lucius’ back. I bump up against her, and Babydoll crowds into me from behind.

“What’s happening?” Neo demands as we all bunch together on the stairs. The gaping abyss in the middle has vanished behind a wall of rock. We’re all packed into a narrow stone chute, with a low ceiling and tons of solid rock above us.

“We’re at the bottom,” Mallory calls back, the pale beam of her flashlight swinging around. “There’s a really tight squeeze here. Everyone stop pushing, okay?”

“ Chere , I go first for you, oui ?” the werewolf growls. “And I don’t need a flashlight, me.”

“Hold up,” Draco calls from the back in a tone that does not invite argument. “No one goes anywhere without me. Fokk, Unseelie, move your skinny ass and your fokking swords so I can shimmy past—”

“Stop pushing me, brute,” Cousin Z says irritably. “There’s no place for me to go.”

Chaos ensues in the tight chute of the stairs.

The guys in back are pushing, the ones up front trying to make room.

Zara loses her footing on the steep stairs with a cry, but I catch her under the arms and hold her up.

She feels hella good in my arms, depending on me, all warm softness and womanly curves, her silky ponytail brushing my face, the creamy citrus tang of her mating scent calling to my kraken like a fucking Siren—

“Oh, crap,” Neo yelps. “I’ve lost my glasses.”

The sharp crunch of breaking glass behind me—coupled with Cousin Z’s short curse—isn’t good.

But none of us have time to focus on that, for real.

That’s when we hear the werewolf howl. A long, mournful, soul-rending dirge of grief and pain.

Then all nine hells break loose.