Page 124 of Gemini Wicked

That arrangement just makes the yawning abyss between my old guys on that side of the table, and my new ones on this side, more painfully obvious.

In addition, that fucked-up dynamic leaves a distracted Lucius and me, along with my very suspicious alpha dragon, to converse with Ash and Zephyr.

“You’ve implied you’re the only Light Fae in Avalon,” Lucius says to Ash with keen interest. My wolf’s wielding the Fae’s bone-handled cutlery with Old World elegance to navigate the rich game fowl, stewed in violet apples and pink pears, that came out of the big domed serving dish onto his plate.

Zephyr served Lucius and Max and me himself, which I know is a pretty major concession from a Fae royal, and Lucius was vocal in his appreciation. But Zephyr won’t go anywhere near Vasili’s side of the table. And Ash has his big shoulder turned in a way that very pointedly excludes Ronin on the end from the whole convo.

“Yup,” Ash says now in response to Lucius, passing him the loaf of nutty bread we’re all using to sop up the rich sauce. “I got nabbed by this guy and dragged through the portal to Avalon a long time ago. Ain’t that right, Sparrow?”

Ash’s eyes crinkle at Zephyr.

“’Tis what we Unseelie do,” Zephyr murmurs. Briefly, his gaze flickers to Ronin, who’s listening to this with a face like stone. Then, with a sigh, Zephyr turns back to Ash. “What an Unseelie covets for himself, he steals. Besides, as you’ve reminded me many times, you barely put up a token struggle.”

Ash runs a gentle hand over the Dark Fae King’s green hair and messes him up in a way no one else would ever dare.

“Yeah, well, like I said,” Ash says tolerantly to Lucius, “I got nabbed, kinda like the princess here. But that’s water under the bridge now. It’s my choice to stay.”

I know Ash isn’t criticizing me for not staying, for going back to Icarus instead, which is my royal realm the same way Avalon is Zephyr’s. Criticizing isn’t the way Ash rolls. But next to me, Max stiffens right up. A potent hit of his bristly Russian aggression floods through our mating bond.

Under the table, I lay a hand on my dragon’s sinewy thigh and squeeze gently to settle him down.

Shit. He’s quivering with rut and territoriality.

Even before his hand closes over mine and wraps my fingers over the straining bulge behind his zipper.

Yowsa.

A pulse of my own mating heat lights up my pussy like a fireplace. Lucius’ gaze locks with mine and his eyes glow red.

Still, my headmaster minds his manners. He clears his throat, retracts his fangs, and takes a genteel sip from the pewter goblet that holds his wine.

“I have so many questions about the Seelie race,” Lucius says earnestly to Ash. I’m probably the only one who notices the hint of ruddy color (because he’s hard and doesn’t want anyone to know it) riding his high cheekbones above his goatee. “In the mortal world, they’ve grown exceedingly rare.”

Ash swallows a bite of fowl and gives Lucius an unreadable look. “Not as rare as you think. We’re just real good at hiding.”

Which suddenly makes me wonder if maybe we’ve got some kinda Seelie hiding right under our noses at Icarus.

I give Max’s thick dick a squeeze through his jeans, then ease my hand out (reluctantly, because he’s not the only one at this table who’s horny) from under the table to pour us both more wine. His dragon eyes smolder at me in a way that makes me wonder how long it’s polite to wait before some of us—or, if I get my way, all of us—climb into Zephyr’s big round bed.

“Oh, really?” Lucius leans forward and looks alert. “Your Seelie kin would be welcome at the Icarus Academy and in my domus at Villa Augustus. Truly, they would find no need to hide. You have my word on that as headmaster.”

“Old habit.” Ash shrugs. “That’s how we survived the Sundering, you feel me? We learned to keep our wings under wraps and just fly under the radar.”

By now, Lucius is totally intrigued. “But how would I know one if I saw—?”

“Never mind the medieval history lesson, do.” From where he’s holding court at the foot of the table, Vasili slices into this comfy convo like a jungle guide with a machete. “Let’s not get distracted by shiny objects, darlings. We seem to have found the missing Seelie. Zara claims her crown tomorrow at the Faerie Ball—assuming we trust our Unseelie host. All that’s needed now is to ensure this insurrectionist demon stays well out of our way for the next, oh, twenty-fourish hours. Then we fly straight back to Icarus—and make that bitch Cleo Ferrari wish she was never born.”

My snake is clearheaded and coldblooded as fuck (same as always).

But I agree with most of that—except that part about abandoning Zephyr and Ash to deal with a possible insurrection alone.

I figure we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Max grunts with agreement for V’s plan, then engulfs what looks like half a loaf of bread dripping with juices in a single bite, because that dragon’s never met a meal he can’t finish.

Seriously, that bite’s so big he practically has to unhinge his jaw like a python swallows a rabbit.

“Too right.” Ronin gives V’s pronouncement an approving nod. “What we should be going on about is this blooming demon. Mordred.”

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