Page 42 of Gemini Wicked

We’re all well aware that our dragon shifter is an indifferent student at best. And that the most recent obsession Maxim has been boning is Vasili.

Tonight, however, our resident dragon is focused elsewhere. He’s restless and prowling near the crackling fire, possessive and broody, never straying far from Zara’s side. If Maxim were currently in his shifted form, his tail would be lashing.

Obviously, he too is sensing our queen’s looming heat.

Maxim has stripped out of his shirt and shoes, leaving him clad in nothing but the ripped jeans that cling to his wiry hips. I swallow hard at the sight of his lean sinewy torso, his sleek skin golden with Black Sea suntan, the twisting flex of his tight abs. The cruel silver barbells piercing his ruddy nipples gleam in the firelight.

He’s sensitive there. Exquisitely sensitive. I know precisely how sensitive he is from watching him with our mates…

But I mustn’t ogle my student.

Truly, I mustn’t.

If Maxim desired my attention in that way, he would surely have invited my advances months ago. When it comes to his libido, an alpha shifter is rarely shy.

All too clearly, Maxim does not view me—his headmaster, his teacher, his responsible co-alpha, his stodgy elder by more than a decade—in a sexual way.

He submits to us, my wolf growls inside my skin. He could be ours. You are foolish not to claim him.

“Apparently,” I say firmly, banishing my amorous wolf and his libido to my mental pantry and closing the door between us, “Cleopatra Aquarius does not share your priorities, my dear. Being awarded the First Girl ribbon and having her name, well, blazoned at the head of the Dean’s List is a respectable academic credential. If Cleopatra manages to capture it, that win will bolster her claim to your crown.”

Zara’s eyes narrow and her stubborn chin acquires a mutinous tilt. “I never even finished high school. You know, on account of running away from my shitty dad? Plus I missed a whole semester of my freshman year here. I’m just saying—there’s a reason I’m behind.”

“My dear, no one is criticizing your choices or your aptitude. Least of all myself.” Gently I bend to kiss her, and Vasili gives way. I pause to acknowledge his accommodation with a respectful nod.

This is the careful navigation of multiple alphas who share a polycule.

Ours is an arrangement—three alpha males and an alpha queen in the same harem—that occurs so rarely it’s generally considered to be impossible.

Still, somehow, we make it work.

Between Zara’s teal brows, a worried pucker lingers. But, to my pleasure, she leans into my kiss. Her hot lush mouth parts under mine. I cup her delicate jaw, skin soft as velvet under my rough palm, and nudge her lips apart to taste her. My mate’s naughty tongue flicks out to meet mine in a sweet swirl that tastes like peppermint cocoa.

The heady vanilla rose of her mating scent hits my acute shifter senses like a mallet wrapped in velvet.

My wolf lunges to his feet with a growl.

Our queen is scenting… quite heavily.

Vasili growls and slithers closer. His hand closes behind Zara’s head to nudge her deeper into my kiss. He tugs loose the tidy ponytail at my nape. My thick curls—long overdue for a trim, but my mates won’t hear of it—tumble down around my face.

My groin floods with a rush of tingling heat.

“I’ve been thinking,” Zara whispers against my lips. “What if I stopped taking the shots?”

The entire domus seems to suck in its breath.

My queen’s words affect me like a hand closing around my shaft. Behind my houndstooth trousers, my member thickens and swells in a sudden surge of need.

Somehow I’ve fallen to my knees on the cool mosaic floor. I surface from the seductive suck of her kiss to find my hands clutching the soft swell of her hips, my fangs shooting from my palate to fill my mouth, and the creamy spice of her mating scent filling my head.

Desperate for more, I bury my head in her lap.

Her supple thighs, encased in the synthetic fabric of her yoga pants, soften and part. I pull in a long inhale and nuzzle my fangs into her warm crotch. Her breath hitches in a soft gasp.

God help us. My wolf has seized control.

My sharpened senses pick up the sudden rustle of leather from the window seat where Ronin leans forward to watch.

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