Page 52 of Gemini Wicked

Zara’s shimmering aqua gaze shifts to me. Her teal eyebrows lift. A hint of a smile ghosts across her sweet lips before she is drawn back to Lucius’ anatomy—which does tend to draw the eye.

He is thick and girthy, his veiny cock rigid and jutting with need, springing from the thicket of chestnut curls between his muscled thighs. His heavy sac swings beneath, already flushed and swollen with purpose. As I have observed many times, Lucius is endowed with an abundance of dick that pleases all our mates.

He pleases all our mates very well.

Yet it has always felt disrespectful to watch too closely while he pleases them. He is my teacher, almost my father (the kind that stays), he leads this household. We dragonkind are raised to respect our elders.

Besides… he… has never seemed interested in claiming me, as he does all the others.

Even tonight, I think perhaps he has only kissed me—that searing kiss that ignited my entire body into a raging inferno of need that still blazes in my blood—because Zara has told him he should.

I am not as intimately familiar with his body as I am with all the others. Still, I am deferential and careful not to stare.

Even so, the thick knot of hardened flesh swelling at the base of his dick makes my mouth run dry.

My sovereign drops to her knees for a closer look. This arrangement makes Lucius growl with anticipation.

Her mischievous gaze lifts to his. “Does it hurt?”

“Not in the way you’re asking, you minx,” he says gruffly. “No. But the… tumescence… won’t subside until I’ve been—”

“Milked?” Our queen’s pretty hands slide up his strong thighs.

“Satisfied,” he growls through his fangs. “Behave yourself, Ms. Gemini.”

“Is that really what you want, Teach? Me behaving myself?” Slow and teasing, her thumbs circle the base of his knot. Lucius’ eyes close, his head falls back on a ragged groan, and his hips thrust into her touch.

“Wow,” she breathes. “You’re really sensitive here, aren’t you?”

Her little hands cradle his knot, while Lucius’ hips twitch and his talons hover around her lightning-blue head. Clearly, it is all he can manage not to seat himself deep in her saucy mouth.

Her thoughtful face tilts toward me. “You want a closer look, big guy?”

I need a moment to realize she is speaking to me.

Now I am torn between conflicting instincts. I am in rut, and my mate lingers close to a rival alpha who is likewise in rut. In these circumstances, my dragon should be savage. He should bugle and rend and tear.

Already, he is trembling with pent-up yearning. For he is a slave to the ancient genetic imperative of all our kind.

That devastating need to breed.

Yet my dragon is also… strangely… subservient.

I am the Sagittarius prince. I am a fully manifested male dragon shifter. I am the greatest of my kind. And I am also the last.

This sense of subservience is… utterly foreign.

Yet it is too overwhelming to deny.

Heavily I drop to my knees beside Zara, curl my arm around her waist to steady her, and bow my forehead against Lucius’ muscled thigh.

I close my eyes and pull in a deep lungful of his familiar wolfish odor, mingled with the creamy rose of Zara’s mating scent. Her inner beast croons and bates her wings in welcome.

Saints of the northern steppes. Our queen burns to rise in a mating flight.

If she does, beyond all doubt, Vasili and I will rise to fly her.

But Lucius… Lucius cannot follow.

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