Page 7 of Gemini Hunted (Dark Witch Academy #5)

“He’s right to be cautious, my dear.” Firmly ordering my wolf to behave, I gather a fleece throw and cross to Zara’s side to tuck it gently around her cold legs. “For all the good those decoys seem to have done.”

She gives me a grateful smile and reaches for my hand, tugging me down for a sweet kiss with a lick of tongue that melts my mouth with mint and chocolate.

My wolf rumbles his approval.

With some difficulty, I force myself to relinquish the warm press of my mate’s lush lips. Still clasping her hand, I lower myself to the sofa at her side.

It’s not hovering when we hold hands.

Or so I tell myself.

With the clatter of ice against metal, Vasili upends the shaker harshly into the inverted pyramid of his martini glass. “That was before the fucking kraken showed up. Not to mention my fucking father—who, as an outsider, is supposedly forbidden to interfere.”

“Much less try to murder you,” I growl at Zara, tone thick and distorted with wolf.

Damnation.

My fangs have dropped at the threat.

Again.

“Exactly. They’re not even following the rules.

The time to play it safe is in the rearview mirror.

That’s obvi. I mean, it’s not like we have a choice, do we?

” Now Zara divides her frustration between both of us.

“Not if we wanna pass our finals and keep Cleo’s ass outta my throne. We have to be smart.”

Firmly recalling my duty as proctor and headmaster of our residential college, I tighten my protective grip on her restless hand and force my fangs to retract.

As calmly as possible, I state, “The rules of the Dean’s Challenge forbid outside involvement. Rest assured I intend to take up Nikolai’s interference with the Dean—”

“Yeah, but we have to do more than file a complaint. We have to win .” Zara’s voice drops to a cautious murmur. Her eyes dart to the windows, as though the legion of paparazzi who routinely stalk our celebrity wild child have their arsenal of telephoto lenses plastered to the glass.

Her capable hand tightens around mine, then slips from my protective clasp.

“Cleo’s already cheating,” she whispers, “and with Vasili’s dad in the game, the school board itself is compromised. If we bend the rules, we just can’t get caught.”

It’s times like these that remind me Zara Gemini began her notorious life, before she became the rebel queen of the witching world, as a cat burglar.

With highly flexible morals.

“Hmmm.” Vasili’s hum is noncommittal as he sips his martini, but his thoughts in our bond are guarded. (Even more so than usual, I can’t help noting.) “Are we so certain your charming ex-lover survived the kraken?”

“I dunno.” Tightly, Zara hugs her knees to her chest and looks haunted. “If she didn’t, I just feel like… I’d know.”

“An interesting assumption,” Vasili says softly, eyes hidden behind his smoky lids.

I do wonder what he’s thinking—what he’s clearly hiding. But I know too well this particular warlock (who is not only my lover, but also my professional associate and my student, at least until he passes his qualifying examinations and graduates next month… assuming he survives the process).

I know him far too well to ask.

The yacht’s anchor chain groans in protest, like a damned soul, holding us moored against the pull of the heavy seas. Even in this sheltered harbor, the cyclone has swollen the tide. Now the currents are truly deadly.

The rules be damned.

Then and there, I make an irrevocable choice.

I shan’t—I won’t—I can’t —simply sit by and passively observe while my prize pupil, my cherished queen, the precious mate I yearn to bear and nurse my pups—the mate who may already have conceived our offspring, God willing—hurls herself recklessly into danger.

Here is my bottom line.

Maxim and Zephyr were right to balk over this mad scheme. Damnation. They were right .

My mate is diving back into that lethal sea over my dead and decomposing body.

Bad enough that sweet Neo is out there on deck, exposed to the wicked elements, even as we speak.

Doing… something or other… with the storm anchor, with Ash’s strong back and watchful eye to assist. Watching those two circle each other all day—bashful Neo in an agony of blushes, Ash clearly besotted with the boy, but biding his time with an older man’s patience—has lent a rare grace note of sweetness to an otherwise intolerable ordeal.

“Here’s the thing.” Zara releases her knees and uncurls her legs. Spurred by instinct, I rise and move subtly to place myself between my determined mate and the door. “That Horn of Ceres isn’t gonna recover itself. And Neo’s dad needs something to help him keep the Arcane Senate in line.”

Abruptly (and inevitably), she flings the blanket aside and shoots to her feet. “Lucius, get the nitrox. I’m going back down. Right now. We need that Horn.”

The hackles rise down the back of my neck. Every hair on my body bristles in elemental resistance.

“Darling, there’s no point appealing to Lucius,” Vasili says, soft and silken with menace, without even looking at me. “When I’m the one stopping you.”

Zara’s head tilts to study him. Her aqua eyes narrow. Purple sparks of irritation dance and crackle along her fingers. The curly ends of her ponytail start floating in the psychic charge she generates when her temper rises.

“Is that so?” she says softly.

God help us all.

In this moment, our queen looks every bit as deadly as that slanderous documentary alleged.

Vasili sips his martini and looks bored with the entire tedious affair, but I know better. He’s an adder, poised to strike.

Abruptly, the distant hiss of the shower cuts short. Clearly, Ronin’s keen telepathic antennae are picking up the amperage our queen and our alpha are generating.

As well as the electric current of Vasili’s wrathful resolve.

“What about you, Lucius?” Zara’s considering gaze shifts to find me, idling casually near the bookcase of battered paperbacks near the door. Theo Mercury’s shipboard library gives me a plausible pretense to obstruct the exit.

Faced with my silence, her soft mouth tightens. “Whose side are you on?”

We are on your side, my mate, my wolf growls in my ear. We are your wolf king, the sire of your pups, and we will slaughter—

“It isn’t so much about being on a side,” I begin carefully, speaking over my wolf’s bloodthirsty promises, gut spiraling in a sinking sense of dread at the prospect of yet another wrenching quarrel.

“My dear, we’re all on the same side together.

I’m simply saying that plunging back into the sea, with only Ronin for backup, in the midst of a tropical cyclone—even if the sea dragon and the shark and Vasili’s homicidal parent were not in play—would be… ill advised.”

“And unnecessary.” Vasili lowers his martini glass to examine his black-painted nails. Despite the urgency of this moment, his cruel mouth curls in a sly smile that’s wicked with anticipation. “ Quite. Unnecessary.”

Zara plants her hands on her hips and scowls.

“What, are you thinking Cleo already has the Horn? We can’t make that assumption.

We can’t just… give up! Whenever I do that whole clairvoyance thing, it’s all muddy, it’s a power I still don’t really know how to wield.

But I do know that Horn’s still at sea—”

“Oh, indeed it is.” Grim with purpose, Vasili turns toward the dark window, grips the sill to anchor himself against the vessel’s pitch and yaw, and murmurs, “This seems to be your curtain call, darling.”

I’m frowning at his slender back when a thin yell rises outside. Christ, that’s Neo’s voice, pitched high in astonishment, coupled with Ash’s low curse.

My wolf bristles under my skin. As I pivot toward the hatch, I’m already shedding my ascot and preparing to drop to all fours.

But I’m still human (if barely) when the outer door flies open.

The hatch fills with a swarthy shirtless body, powerful shoulders and broad pecs rippling and packed with muscle in an impressive male physique.

A tattooed sleeve of indigo scales sheathes one brawny arm from shoulder to wrist. Under the six-pack flex of abdominal muscle, a sort of sleek black armor (like fish scales) clings to narrow hips and bulging quads.

Bare feet with webbed toes grip the carpet to complete the effect.

“Yo,” this apparition says casually in a baritone rumble, shaking back a dripping mane of midnight blue hair to reveal his pointed ears. “Pretty gnarly weather you got this side of the portal, baby queen. Doesn’t hold a candle to the demon realm, natch.”

Every synapse in my body fires with agitation and aggression.

Saints defend us, it’s the demon.

Zephyr’s mortal enemy.

Half Unseelie.

Half incubus.

All trouble.

“Mordred?” Zara recovers from our collective shock far more swiftly than I. She closes her open mouth and crosses her arms across her chest. “Dude. We talked about this in Avalon. You are not welcome here. Seriously. You need to vamoose, like, now. Before Zephyr gets back.”

“My good ole second cousin once removed,” the new arrival drawls. Above his sleek blue goatee, two mischievous dimples appear in his cheeks. “Kissing cousin too. Bet Cousin Z never told you that , did he?”

Casually this creature prowls into the salon, abs flexing and hips shifting like a walking sex show. Given his incubus magic, he exudes a potent sexual spell that thickens the indoor air like incense.

Neo and Ash crowd into the doorway behind him. Neo is wide-eyed and staring, green eyes enormous behind his glasses under a windblown mop of magenta curls.

Ash bristles with watchful menace beside him—craggy face hard under his spiky pewter hair, massive shoulders bunching, legs spread for balance on the rocking deck.

Vasili lounges gracefully against the window, martini glass in hand. Making no move whatsoever to oppose our infernal intruder.

All too clearly, the demon’s surprise appearance comes as no surprise to Vasili.