Page 31 of Gemini Wicked

Thank God he sounds totally unimpressed.

Sure, we all share in this harem, that’s how it works when you’re poly. But I’m not about to share my warlocks with her.

While Max closes in with jaws gaping wide like he’s gonna swallow her whole, Cleo toes deftly out of her sparkly stilettos. Her graceful arms sweep over her head like an Olympic diver. Then she executes a perfect swan dive from the flybridge.

A blinding white flash obliterates her falling form.

I suck in my breath on a spurt of shock.

When my vision clears, a sleek coil of garnet scales is pouring through the air. That endless spiral, divided by a spine of razor-sharp spikes glittering merlot and ruby in the firelight, slips into the inky sea with barely a splash. Just before the whole apparition that used to be my supposedly mortal, unshifty girlfriend is engulfed in the depths, her forked tail flicks in a flirty wave.

“Sweet Jesus!” I yelp. “What the hell was that?”

But I know.

We all know.

Even though no one’s ever seen one in the flesh—I’ve only seen illustrations in the antique books of witching world lore in Lucius’ library—what we’ve all just seen is literally supposed to have been extinct for centuries.

My backstabbing ex-BFF is… a fucking sea dragon.

Max hammers past in a powerful gust of wind and roars in frustrated rage. Next to me, Ronin’s swearing like a sailor. Vasili doesn’t even twitch and he doesn’t utter a sound (he’s actually suspiciously silent). But his eyes are narrowed in snaky calculation and his face is hard and dangerous. Lucius’ wolf tilts back his muzzle in a long mournful howl.

Which pretty much voices my own turbulent feelings to a T.

Cleo might’ve just escaped my dragon’s vengeance. But I know she won’t be going far. I’ve got something that belongs to her.

The way she sees it, I’m wearing her crown.

And she’s gonna want it back.

Chapter Six

Neo

My hands are still shaking.

That makes it hard to pour the slug of peppermint schnapps from the vintage liquor cart in our great room into Dez’s cocoa. But she really needs it to steady her nerves, so I just suck it up and get the job done.

Since I’m apparently not a candidate for helping in any of the major ways around this domus.

At least in Zara’s view.

I hate thinking that way, I really do, like now is obviously not the time for me to throw myself a pity party? No one has time to deal with that.

The thing is, that’s obviously what she and the guys are thinking. That’s gotta be why, when my fated mate was in danger and needed us most, I got whisked away. I was literally the only one of her guys she wanted sent away. She wanted me gone so badly she even Compelled Racetrack (who definitely looked doubtful, with me yelling no way and frantically shaking my head at her the whole time) to do it.

Everyone else in the harem (except Zephyr and Ash, who haven’t exactly been around) got to stay at Zara’s side and fight.

And the fact that my hands are still shaking, even hours later, well after the rest of them got home?

It’s like proof that Zara’s right.

When it comes to fighting for her and defending her, I really am useless.

Biting my lip, I breathe in the cool bite of peppermint, cradle the steaming mug carefully between my palms, and trot across the great room to the crackling heat and light of the central hearth. Shadows dance and flicker around the high-backed Renaissance sofa where Dez and Racetrack are cuddled together in their jammies.

RT looks grumpy as heck in her scruffy sweats and athletic socks, with a gauze bandage wrapped around her forehead and her fist wrapped around a bracing cup of black coffee. Nurse Lavinia just left, and my housemate’s not supposed to sleep, because she might have a mild concussion.

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