Page 4 of Gemini Wicked

Even if there’s no one down here to greet us except a surly-looking deckhand who isn’t much for conversation. Unsmiling, he grabs the rope Ronin tosses him and ties us up alongside.

“Huh. Not much of a welcome party.” Racetrack gives the setup a sharp look as she cuts the power and pockets the key. “Not that you mind, I guess, if that bitch Messalina’s not waiting right here for you with that crown on a goddamn cushion.”

With her short blond hair and Ellen DeGeneres power suit, RT’s got her don’t-fuck-with-me face on. Suddenly I really appreciate having her with me tonight.

Strength in numbers, you feel me?

“I don’t mind at all, believe me,” I mutter. “Whatever Messalina’s got planned, the sooner we get this shitshow behind us and our asses back to the Academy, the better I’ll like it.”

Neo helps me to my feet in my stilettos and gives me an anxious look. He’s kinda hovering, they all are, because they feel what I’m feeling. “Is that your foresight acting up, babe?”

“It’s not witchcraft. It’s performance anxiety.” Vasili sneers at a passing chopper like he’s going to light it on fire (even though that’s Ronin’s power and not V’s). The gust from the thing’s noisy passing blows my hair around my head. “For fuck’s sake. Better put your game face on, little queen, do. Or these Aquarius piranhas will eat you alive.”

“Thanks for that, Goblin King.” I give his disdainful pout the stink eye, but I do pull my shit together. “And don’t be a dick tonight. I mean it.”

He hums, but doesn’t bother to answer.

Great.

If he’s feeling pissy, he’s gonna be a problem.

Then we’re all scrambling out on the afterdeck, with me cursing these strappy shoes Vasili’s talked me into, but grateful as fuck for the front slit I insisted on when he picked out my party frock. Which means my skirt’s split all the way up to mid-thigh.

I need to know I can run or fight if I have to.

Even if I’m not armed.

I mean, the conventional way.

Ronin leaps out ahead of me, graceful as a panther on the rocking deck, then gives me a nice firm hand onto that treacherous sleek-ass yacht and slips an arm around my waist in that possessive way that always heats my hoochie. He’s the Leo scion—a fire sign—so he literally runs hot anyway.

And it definitely doesn’t hurt, having Ronin’s unstoppable hotness squiring me up the stairs toward that well-dressed pack of cackling hyenas on the poop deck.

Or having Vasili and Lucius, two of my badass alphas, both looming at my back like sexy bodyguards.

Hopefully Maxim, who’s kind of a loner but makes a ferociously intimidating third alpha, will turn up on his own.

“Stay tight and stick close, okay?” I call back to Neo and the girls, pitching my voice to carry over the throbbing bass from the live band and the pop icon’s syrupy croon. “Just till we know what’s what.”

No worries, babe, Neo says, sweet and patient, through our mating bond. I’m not going anywhere. You’re permanently stuck with me.

Which is about the nine hundredth reason why I love that guy.

His loyalty.

Unshakable.

I pull in a steadying breath and try to look relaxed and in control, like the next goddamn queen of the witching world, even if that’s not how I feel. Those salacious pics of all six of us, snapped from some stalky angle outside my own bedroom window, have definitely knocked me off my stride.

But fuck if I’m gonna show it.

Any of it.

The party’s already in full swing, with the oyster bar and the champagne fountain seeing plenty of action on the poop deck, the dance floor on the main deck rocking under laser lights and a mirrored ball, and the megastar and her band set up on the quarterdeck under a massive LED screen screaming Happy Birthday, Zara Gemini!! that lights up the twilight like a second sun.

Every deck on this superyacht is packed with the glitterati of the witching world, famous faces from all twelve clans, from the Senate to the WNN newsroom. All dressed to the nines in Tom Ford tuxes and Vera Wang gowns, mingling over champagne and canapés, sipping poison and swapping secrets, swaying to the tunes under swoopy strings of festive lights that glow against the violet sky.

No one makes any kind of announcement or fuss of any kind over our arrival. Which is kinda weird, but I’m definitely not complaining.

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