Page 66 of Gemini Wicked

But right now that snake’s not even helping me settle our unsettled mates, and I don’t bother asking.

Vasili—also not a card-carrying fan of Team Zephyr—will literally be no help. Sure, he’s not out of control losing it like my other alphas, he’s way too sly to show his hand like that.

But he’s still the most dangerous.

I can’t even see V with my face smushed into the hot plane of Max’s chest.

But his Goblin King aggression skulks in our mating bond like a serial killer lurking in the basement.

“For shit’s sake,” Ronin mutters to the room in general. “Bloke’s not here to do that Hades-Persephone thing this time, is he? Zara’s safe as houses. Just… don’t be an arse, okay, Zeph?”

Of course, Zephyr says nothing.

Meanwhile, my Brit’s scrunched up against the headboard to my right, scrubbing his face with his hands like he’s trying to claw his own skin off.

Underneath all this hostility that’s roiling the quiet morning air like a spaghetti pot at a lively boil, Ronin’s mental anguish tears at me like claws.

For his sake, too, I gotta regain control of this volatile sitch.

I gotta.

With a sigh, I summon up my queen voice. “Maxim Rasputin—”

“Hey, Max, take it easy, buddy, okay?” Neo’s also pinned under the press of protective dragon to my left, but he’s managed to park his glasses on his nose. Plus he’s got enough wiggle room to loop an arm around Max’s neck and nuzzle his cheek. “You’re smooshing Zara.”

“Truly, darlings, why blame Max?” Of course that’s my snake Vasili, all wicked with spite. “He’s seen firsthand what the Dark Fae do. What they covet, they steal. Max is afraid this Unseelie tyrant will steal our mate. After all, he’s done it before.”

Max’s growl deepens to a brassy rumble. His whole body quivers with intensity. Our mating bond floods with his dragon’s need to rend and ravage and burn.

Mine she is mine we will breed I will kill—

Cheese on toast. If that flying Godzilla loses his shit and shifts, he’ll bring down this whole domus.

“Don’t be a dick, Goblin King.” I huff out a breath. “I mean it. I know what you’re doing. Stop setting Max off.”

“But he makes it so easy,” Vasili murmurs, sharp with spite. I swear, that villain’s practically rubbing his hands with glee.

In our mating bond, Lucius’ wolf mutters and paces.

Dropping my own exasperated F bomb, I squirm against Max’s lean hot body and wiggle through the sheets like an eel till I can peer over Max’s protective shoulder at my pacing headmaster.

“Lucius,” I say firmly, “don’t you dare wolf out. I need you to start adulting and help me defuse this situation.”

Lucius shoots me a guarded look over one shoulder. His eyes are blood red and he’s sporting fangs like Nosferatu. But his fiery gaze drops to Max’s bristling body and softens. He stops pacing and gentles his warning snarl from aggression to a protective rumble.

“Precious boy,” my headmaster says through his canines. “Maxim, king of dragons. Do not fear him. I will help you protect our queen.”

I don’t need protecting, especially from one of my own mates. Still, that gruff wolfish promise turns my heart all melty.

These two—I mean Max and Lucius—are still a really new thing, they haven’t even fucked yet. But I can’t deny our headmaster gets our fatherless dragon in a really deep way.

Lucius is getting through to him in a way Neo and I haven’t.

Maxim stops growling and pulls in a long shuddery breath. Then he rubs his bristly face into my neck to scent me and rolls off.

(Finally!)

“Good dragon.” With a sigh of relief, I pop up to sit next to him and sweep my wild mane out of my face.

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