Page 90 of Gemini Wicked

But Max’s unique peen got a closeup below the fold in his debut press appearance. So thanks for that, Witching Inquisitor.

“Oh, look,” one of the witches says brightly, eyeing Max’s junk in a way that makes me want to punch her in the face. “It’s Captain Hook.”

“Did you see his scars? His whole back is gross.” The queen bee (as in bitch) flashes her pearly whites in a grin that’s pure poison. “No wonder he won’t take his shirt off at the beach.”

Max is self-conscious as fuck about those scars. Plus he’s an abuse survivor and he doesn’t deserve this shit.

I suck in my breath to roast the bitch.

“You lot had best sod off, unless you fancy a row.” Ronin shoves up beside me and flashes the mean girls his own ugly grin. “Max is a bloke you’ll not like when he’s pissed. And Zara’s still the baddest bitch on this rock, isn’t she?”

“Thanks, Adam. But I can take out my own trash. Right, Scarlet?” I lock onto the HBIC of the bunch, she’s clan Scorpio and some kinda distant cousin of Vasili’s, though she’s way beneath the Goblin King’s notice.

“It’s Skyler, you mingey cunt.” The brunette Barbie tosses her moussed-up mane and gives me a sulky pout. “This time, even Deanie’s turned against you. Looks like you’ll finally get what’s coming to you.”

That’s a level of aggression I don’t usually get around here, I mean, not since I survived Purgatory my first quarter and claimed my power.

Looks like I might actually have to assert myself to defend my terrain.

Dean or no Dean.

“That is a vile insult to my queen and sovereign. She is not mingey. Her cunt is very bare. And she is glorious.” Bristling with violence (and clearly taking that whole hairy pussy slur super literally), Max does the asserting for me and pushes up beside me.

That shit takes courage when I know he’s still shriveling up inside from shame over the whole world seeing his poor scarred back.

Easy there, big guy. Let me handle this, okay? I send the silent reassurance through our mating bond to hold him in check. He’s all rutty and protective, so it’s hard for him.

His dragon grumbles at me, but at least he listens.

Because, clearly, I gotta nip this bitchy Aquarius attitude in the bud myself.

“That’ll be you giving it to me, will you, Scarlet?” I snap my glittery fingers at the other girl in a crackle of violet sparks.

I won’t summon actual lightning in the building, but my little lightning’s a problem these Tiberius bitches have learned to respect. Fear flickers in this one’s surly stare.

“You’re a slutty little nobody. A trashy casino whore—just like your trashy mother!” Skyler flounces out of my way and cedes the bulletin board with a huff. “Read it and weep, Gemini.”

Under normal circumstances, to pay back that insult to my mom and especially because she made Max feel bad, I’d do a whole lot more to assert my dominance.

But I’m not actually a bully (unlike half the guys in my harem).

Anyway, I’ve finally got access to the bulletin board. Which was the whole point of coming over here in the first place.

“Thanks for nothing, witch.” I swagger up to the curling parchment tacked to the corkboard. The official-looking paper is blazoned with the handsome cobalt-and-gold Academy crest and the Dean’s scrolling script.

“Icarus Academy Final Examination: Dean’s Challenge,” Ronin reads aloud for Max’s benefit, since our dragon’s guarding my back and scowling possessively at the bystanders. “Retrieve the Horn of Ceres from its watery shrine.”

“Horn of Sarees?” I repeat phonetically to get the pronunciation down. “What the fuck’s that?”

“The Horn of Ceres is a mythical treasure.” Max looms suddenly over my shoulder, his Slavic face sharp and slitted pupils blown wide with interest. Any sort of treasure fascinates the guy, it’s a dragon thing. “Ceres was the Roman goddess of agriculture, childbirth, and fertility. The Horn is the symbol of her power, yes?”

“A fucking horn? Like, a cow horn?” For me, this factoid does not compute.

Maybe it’s because that F word Max just dropped goes off in my head like a hand grenade.

Fertility.

“It is, how do you say, a… cornucopia?” Max produces the word triumphantly, because his labored English has been getting so much better.

---