Page 158 of Gemini Wicked

The knowledge that I’m helpless to control what’s happening in my own body stings like a wasp. Infuriated by the entire ridiculous mess, I lash out at the closest target I can reach and glare at Zara.

“You do realize, I trust, that Zephyr’s demon is only biding his time?” I snap. “Clearly, Mordred wanted the crown to reject you in front of the whole Unseelie realm. Now that it hasn’t, he’ll move on to Plan B.”

Sweet fuck, I sound positively shrewish. Truly, it’s not a flattering effect.

Zara’s lovely eyes narrow dangerously at my tone. “Pretty clear on that, yeah. Just not as clear on how we can trap him inside a summoning circle in, like, the next twelve hours if he won’t come on his own. You have any ideas on that, bad boy?”

The best idea I have is one I have no intention of voicing. But I’m distracted by my rut, her fertility (how soon can we know if she’s pregnant?), and my own mounting heat.

Consequently, she lifts the thought I’ll never voice from our bond before I can block it.

“Put myself out there all alone… no ball, no crowd, no warlocks… as bait?” Zara tilts her head in thought. To my considerable alarm, I realize she’s already contemplated the unpalatable notion herself. “Yeah. It’s an idea I’m not opposed to. I actually suggested it to Zephyr while you were getting your facial this morning.”

“Dear fuck.” I stare at her, appalled. “Did it never occur to you to consult me?”

“No point.” She shrugs. “It didn’t go well when I raised it with the others. Total non-starter for the whole harem. But especially Lucius and Max. Guess those two are hormonally incapable of peeling off and leaving me exposed to danger while they’re in rut.”

“They’re not the only ones,” I say shortly.

Zara’s stubborn face softens and her lush lips curve. “Yeah, I kinda figured that, Goblin King. How are you doing with all this anyway? I mean, you being non-binary and able to carry eggs in dragon form, plus being in rut for me and in heat for Max at the same time, then Zephyr and Ronin kinda making up, and the demon and everything else that’s going down? It’s… like… a lot.”

I’m opening my mouth to assure her I’m in complete command of the entire situation when Lucius appears unexpectedly at our side.

He’s still impeccable in his vintage tux and ascot with his delicious Renaissance curls spilling down his back. But my sharp eyes detect a flush along my pet’s high cheekbones and a tinge of red in his whiskey gaze. With the creamy sweetness of Zara’s intoxicating pheromones perfuming the air—with that addictive new note to her scent like ripe peaches that tells every shifter in sniffing range she’s fertile—plus the lethal threat of that demon hanging over her head…

Lucius Aries is clinging to his aristocratic Old World civility by a thread.

“You’ve monopolized our queen long enough, Mr. Romanov,” our headmaster says mildly. “I believe I’ll take over for a time, if you don’t mind.”

Privately I’m amazed he’s managed to give me this much time alone with her. Our three alphas (including Max) have been maneuvering delicately through the landmine of possessiveness, violence, and aggression that are defining characteristics of male shifters gripped in the biological and emotional crisis of a mating rut. For that reason—and because he’s Lucius, and there’s nothing I won’t do for him—I command my reluctant hands to loosen their hold on Zara and entrust my darling girl to our wolf’s eager arms.

Zara snuggles into Lucius’ hungry embrace with an upward look that brims with so much mischief his fangs drop. He growls and drags her against his powerful body with a savagery that turns heads.

“To be continued,” Zara calls over her shoulder, laughing, as Lucius whirls her away. “I seriously wanna talk about what’s going down with you, Goblin King. Okay?”

Another couple spins between us and breaks our eye contact, which gives me the perfect excuse not to answer.

I pivot away from my mates and fight my way to the fringes of the pressing crowd. By this point, I’ve passed beyond any sort of genteel perspiration into a disgusting muck sweat. I’m a literal inferno of heat and hormones.

If I could only escape this crowd of alien Fae I dare not trust. Escape into the open air and breathe.

Desperately I wrestle open the sparkly bow tie that’s strangling my throat and peel out of my smothering jacket. I glimpse the spiral stairs climbing to the kiva rim and twist through the crowd toward freedom.

I’m barely halfway to my objective when my snake uncoils and writhes inside the hot tight prison of my skin.

Vasili, we rise, she hisses, fierce with need. We rise now. I burn!!

Dear fuck.

This is happening. Whether I want it or not.

My mating flight.

My only conceivable option is to put as much distance as humanly possible between me and the male dragons at this fucking ball. Before I lose every shred of my sanity in this uncontrollable need to breed.

I abandon all restraint and bolt for the stairs, discarding my priceless designer jacket in my wake as I flee. Helped along here and there by an ungentle telekinetic shove from yours truly, Fae scatter left and right, yelping in alarm and cursing me for my rudeness.

With zero apology, I shove roughly through their ranks. Leaving chaos and bruises in my wake.

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