Page 49 of Gemini Hunted (Dark Witch Academy #5)

Maxim

“They are very late,” I mutter to Ronin in the dark. “Zara and all our mates. We expected them hours ago.”

“Tell me about it,” Ronin mutters back.

It is now past midnight. Something has very clearly gone wrong.

We are huddled in the dark—Ronin, Ash, and myself—in the open tower of the belfry in the gothic cathedral that houses the Icarus Academy. My skull is still ringing from the sonorous bong! of the vast church bell at my back, tolling the witching hour with its deafening peels.

From here, we watched helplessly as a clueless contingent of students from House Hadrian—the ones Vasili calls Hufflepuffs—were caught and captured by Cleo’s house.

Those Hufflepuffs are still searching the seas for the Horn, because they do not know Zara has it.

They were sneaking off in a borrowed boat from Racetrack’s dive shop in the harbor when they were found and captured.

Cleo’s crew did not even need to bother. These Hufflepuffs are so far behind, they will never win.

But those bullies from our rival house—House Tiberius, Cleo’s bootlickers—they did it for spiteful pleasure.

Simply to shatter the others’ hopes.

And to cause them pain.

Now the victims are in the school infirmary, being treated for second degree burns. All injuries incurred when a Tiberius warlock used his witchcraft to set the dive boat on fire.

This much, Racetrack told us herself, when she and Dez met us at our rendezvous spot. Then our two housemates hastened to the domus for spell ingredients and privacy, where Dez is cobbling together various magics, including a counter curse to block an immolation hex.

I know it is pointless to ask, but my dragon is restless, and I must. “Ronin. Our mates. Can you still not sense them?”

Sprawled on the ledge over a bone-breaking drop to the cobblestone piazza far below, sleek and deadly in his catsuit, with one long leg swinging over the abyss, Ronin levels me with a tawny-eyed look that simmers with impatience.

“Not with that bloody nullifying object in play.” He grimaces. “At this point, I can barely sense you , love. Tells me either that wanker Xiao or Vasili’s old man—maybe both—must be close. They’re the only ones we know who use that shit.”

Hopefully I emerge from the stairwell where I am lurking.

The choir loft directly below us, which holds the school library with its collection of rare and arcane books, is our blind spot. I am guarding these stairs to keep Ronin safe (and also Ash, because I know Zara loves him and has chosen him for our harem).

“Then our sovereign and our mates must be close now, yes?” I venture, tingling with adrenaline and aggression. “Since Cleo’s men are hunting them, and they are close.”

“That’s what I figure, yeah.” This quiet contribution comes from Ash.

The Seelie Prince is standing on the ledge, as far from Ronin as he can manage (which is typical), with his magnificent pewter wings fully manifested and shimmering with rain.

They spread from his muscled shoulders to billow gently in the night breeze.

He stands like an archangel, sculpted and vast, with the circlet of thorns tattooed around his biceps weeping crimson ink like blood, ready to drive all the devils back to hell.

To my keen dragonish senses, his spiky hair gleams pewter—like a halo—in the rain-washed night.

Ash has just returned from scouting on the wing.

This was a fruitless maneuver since our mates are still absent and he has learned nothing.

But he too is restless. At least, he is well concealed from hostile eyes by the misty drizzle that shrouds the island tonight.

His return has tangibly heightened the tension in this belfry, because he has never liked Ronin.

It is a sentiment of which Ronin, who is no fool even if his telepathy cannot penetrate Fae minds, is well aware.

“Saint Sergius guard us.” I abandon my post in the stairwell to pace, growling and circling the vast bulk of the hanging bell. My accent thickens when I am agitated, so I must concentrate on my English. “They have taken too long. There is trouble. Who threatens our mates!”

Ash stirs and retracts his wings with a sigh.

He is currently shirtless and dripping with rain, so the wings fold visibly into his corded back, where they melt to form the impressive angel wing tattoo that spreads across his shoulders.

“Let’s not get twitchy on that trigger finger, Max. Just checked on Xhevith, didn’t I?”

“And so?” My dragon lurks in my voice, fully roused and alarmed by any hint of danger to our queen.

“Big green guy’s right where we left him,” Ash says patiently. “Waiting to do his thing just like we planned, all snoozy and fed and quiet. If anything went sideways with Sparrow, he wouldn’t be. That dragon would be taking the roof off.”

Ronin pushes up to sit, careless of the steep drop beside him.

He sweeps back his banner of inky hair, loose and swirling magnificently in the wind, with a scowl.

“Hate to say it, but the winged wonder’s got a point.

Besides, if anything happened to any of them—any of our mates—I’d bloody well know it. Null or no null.”

“No offense, but I trust Xhevith’s bond with Sparrow more than I trust your feelings .” The Seelie Prince sounds very measured, but he looks as though he is seriously considering pushing Ronin and his feelings off the roof.

“Bothers you, doesn’t it?” Ronin swings one shitkicker boot over the abyss and skewers Ash with a piercing stare. “You being the only bloke in this belfry without a mating bite? The only one who can’t sense her. Even Zeph’s dragon has an empathic link to his rider.”

I tense to intervene if I must, but there is no need. Ash stands his ground and says calmly, “Yeah, well, I’m Fae, not shifter. We don’t do mating bites. No offense, Max.”

“None is taken,” I reply.

His quarrel has never been with me, nor mine with him.

He is new to our queen’s harem, he is Zephyr’s official consort, but Ash is not yet fully part of our polycule.

He is easy company, easy to live with, easy on the eyes, yet I do not…

desire him. Not the way I desire Zara and Vasili and Ronin and Neo and Lucius.

Ours is a desire whose intensity grows and deepens steadily with time.

But I am interested and pleased to see that Neo has claimed this Seelie. I suppose that, if Ash fully joins our family, I too will bed him. Especially if my bedding him pleases Zara.

But only if he causes no trouble for Ronin.

If he tries to hurt Ronin, I will slay Ash myself.

Still, this Seelie Prince seems an honorable man, and he has promised Zephyr to make his peace with Ronin. Ash does not need to love Ronin, so long as he keeps his distance. Instead, Ash eyes my restless pacing, around and around the bell.

The Seelie’s next remark is meant for me. “Look, this whole setup sucks, don’t I know it. But we gotta wait this thing out. When it comes to getting that Horn back in the Vault, we’re only gonna get one shot.”

My dragon snarls and rages, but I hold my beast in check.

I prowl to the ledge and peer over the steeply sloped roofs of the darkened village, shining silver with rain through the mist. Over the midnight sea that laps our shores, the dark spear of the abandoned harbor lighthouse gleams like a bony finger.

I grip the ledge and scowl. “Where is the enemy queen? Cleopatra. Where? When we find her, she will be the first one I kill.”

“Zara won’t fancy that, love,” Ronin says softly.

“Yeah, Cleo betrayed her, but they were family once. Our girl has a soft heart. She still loves the bitch. If Cleo gives way on the whole queen bit, if she accepts her loss and walks away? Zara will want us to let her live. Let bygones be bygones. Turn the other cheek, and all that rot.”

While I growl ferociously at this foolish and dangerous notion, Ronin crawls along the ledge until he is directly before me. Then he sits up, puts his back to the drop, and swings a leg around so his legs bracket mine. His hot Leo hands come to rest on my waist.

This entire placement is one I do not mind.

“You and me, Max, we’ll keep our girl safe.” The dark familiar spice of his ambergris fragrance mingles with the scorched brimstone of my dragon and his mating scent. “If Cleo doesn’t toe the line and bend the knee, she’s dog’s meat.”

I growl in agreement, wrap my arms around my mate’s waist to keep him safe from the drop, and bury my face in his neck to nuzzle his mating scars.

Lucius was the first to bite him, and kissing the scars Lucius gave him—while Ronin shudders with pleasure in my arms—makes me feel closer to both of them.

If Lucius wishes it, when this revolution is over and we have won and our precious sovereign is safe, I too will welcome Lucius’ bite—

“Ever met anyone you can’t seduce, Pendragon?” Ash’s dry tone makes us both twitch. “Must be nice to be you.”

I tighten my arms around Ronin in warning, because my mate can be savage when threatened, and Zara has asked them not to quarrel.

Ronin merely perches his chin on my shoulder to gaze at Ash and says lazily, “Well, mate, there’s you. Haven’t popped your cherry yet, have I?”

Ash’s laugh sounds startled.

Clearly Ronin’s reply has caught him off guard.

After a moment, Ash answers in a casual tone. “Yeah, you’re a couple decades too late to be my first anything. I’m twice your age easy, kid. And then some.”

“Old man then.” Ronin muses. “And you’re a bottom, even for Neo. Could almost like you for that, by the way. Bit of fun to see our boy Red on top for once.”

“Nothing you can’t give him yourself. You’re real versatile.” Even while he downplays what might well be the first decent words Ronin has ever said to him, Ash ambles to stand at my side.

Though he is new to the harem, Ash knows me well enough not to stand behind me, where I am always twitchy and protective of my scarred back.

I am still standing with my arms around Ronin’s waist, his knees bracketing my hips, my face buried in his neck. Now I try to straighten, but Ronin curls a hand around my head and tucks my face back into his neck.

My dragon voices a pleased and possessive rumble, deep in my chest. My palate tingles and my incisors descend. But Ronin already wears my mating scars, so I content myself with palming my mate’s tight ass and nipping his neck in warning.

If he will tease me, then he must be prepared to please me.

“Mmmm, fuck.” Ronin sighs into my touch, but I can sense him watching Ash. “Like a bit of ‘tie me up, tie me down’ too, don’t you, Ash? You’re a right proper sub.”

“And you’re a switch. You swing both ways.” Ash’s tone is growing more guarded. “What kinda convo are we having right now?”

Ronin hitches one shoulder in a careless shrug. “That depends on you, doesn’t it?” He pauses. “Zeph’s birthday’s coming up. Night of the summer solstice, innit?”

“Yeah. That’s right.” Now I can sense Ash’s gaze upon us. He is watching Ronin’s legs hook around mine, pushing Ronin’s pelvis into mine in a way that sends hot blood rushing straight from my brain to my cock.

“Well, then,” Ronin says, low and husky, because he knows the effect he is having upon all of us. “Think of it as a birthday gift for the bloke we both love. Maybe even a coronation gift for Zara.”

Even with my face buried in Ronin’s neck and my senses swimming with Ronin’s scent, I can hear Ash’s breath hitch.

“You got anything to say about that, Max?” Ash says warily. “Your guy hooking up with someone new? Dragon shifters are a pretty possessive bunch. Sure, Zara won’t mind. Lucius is reasonable and we rub along. Even Beautiful and me…” He is speaking of Vasili “…I figure we can work something out.”

Ronin snickers, because Vasili is our dominant alpha, and he has been gloating all semester about the night he Compelled Ash with his witchcraft and put him in a collar and leash.

I lift my face from Ronin’s sexy neck and look soberly at Ash.

“I do not own Ronin. It is his choice whom he fucks. But he will only fuck within the polycule. So that is a choice you must make, Asher, Eagle of the Air. Whether you will join us fully. Or whether you will always remain apart, on the edge of us and what we share, loving Zephyr and Zara only, and breaking our Neo’s tender heart. ”

Ash studies me in return, with Ronin wrapped around me, my mate smoldering and heavy-lidded with arousal.

“How old are ya, dragon king?” the Seelie Prince says at last.

“I am twenty-one.” I hesitate, but I am always honest, so I finish with a mutter. “Almost.”

“And Pendragon not even twenty. Geez.” Ash rubs a hard hand over his craggy face and sighs. “What any of you wanna do with an old guy like me… it’s beyond me. But I’m in this thing ass-deep now, ain’t I?”

“You are,” I agree. “But it is still your choice.”

“Okay then.” He nods, but I am not certain whether this is his agreement to bed Ronin, or his acceptance of something less. “One thing at a time. Just gotta survive this hootenanny and get Zara’s sweet ass planted on the throne, don’t we? Then we’ll see about the rest.”

As though he has summoned them, the familiar thunk of Racetrack’s combat boots sounds on the belfry stairs.

She is running.

I release Ronin and pivot with a growl rising in my throat.

Ronin leaps down from the ledge to stand at my shoulder. His hand cocks back like an American pitcher at the mound, golden psi fire already gathering in his palm. Ash plants himself at my other shoulder, solid as a tree, booted legs spread and ready.

For this moment, the three of us stand together.

Racetrack bursts into the belfry at a dead run, wiry legs churning under her plaid uniform skirt, worn leather jacket slung over one shoulder. Under the careless thatch of her short blond hair, her gray eyes burn with urgency.

“They’re here,” she announces. “Zara and the guys. And they got trouble. C’mon, we gotta motor.”