Page 20 of Gemini Queen
“Knock yourself out, mate.” Now Ronin’s digging through a knapsack while he growls at me like a grumpy tiger, a sluggish trickle of blood still dripping down his arm. He yanks out a tee shirt and looks like he’s about to drag it over his damn head.
“Cheese on toast, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you see you’re still bleeding?” I lower the katana to the couch, since I don’t seem to be in immediate danger. There’s an open first aid kit right there, probably the same one someone clearly used to patch up my own bumps and bruises, so I grab a roll of gauze and surgical tape and head in Ronin’s direction. “You gotta tape that bite up, buddy—”
He hasn’t even moved, as far as I can tell. But suddenly Lucius Aries is looming over me like he’s twelve feet tall, with red-tinged eyes and lips peeled back from snarling fangs.
“Mine,”he growls, low and freaky in his chest, in a voice that sounds barely human.
“Jesus, man. Take it easy.” I back away fast, measuring the distance between my foot and his head just in case.
Over his shoulder, Ronin stares between us, looking as startled as I am.
“Possessive much?” With a snort, I toss the supplies to Ronin, who’s quick enough to catch them. “Patch up your boyfriend then. He’s bleeding all over the library.”
For some damn reason, Lucius Aries finally looks disturbed. He frowns, and the red tinge recedes from his eyes.
“The relationship is hardly personal. He’s my student,” the shifter says firmly, and now Ronin’s glaring at his teacher. “I’ve just disciplined him. He simply requires aftercare, from my wolf and from me.”
“Is that what you call it?” I scoff. If that’s whatdisciplinelooks like at the Icarus Academy, he’s just given me one more reason to steer clear of the place. “Well, have at it, Fangs.”
I’m actually more interested in finding pants than talking about how discipline works at the freak academy. I’m eyeing Ronin’s backpack and wondering what he’s got in there that could fit me when Lucius turns toward him.
“My wolf has had more than enough excitement for one night on your account,” the shifter says to him. “But I happen to agree with Zarina. That bite requires tending before wound fever sets in.”
“Forget it,” Ronin mutters, clearly sullen at being reduced to the role of misbehaving student, and I don’t really blame him. Lucius was totally making out with him. “I’ve got it.”
Ronin’s fumbling around one-handed with the tape and gauze, and Lucius clearly wants to help, while Ronin just as clearly wants none of it. It’s painful to watch the two of them—the shifter yearning to take care of him but reluctant to press, maybe a little guilty for making such a mess, with Ronin in his outraged pride snarling and warning him off.
“Oh hell,” I say finally in disgust. “I’ll patch you up, okay? And in exchange, Fangs can rein in his possessive side for five minutes and find me some damn pants.”
Ronin still looks balky, but Lucius pivots toward me with obvious relief. “Thank you, Zarina. I’ve arranged a suitcase packed with everything you’ll need in the coming days. I’ll just fetch it while you tend to Ronin.”
“Just pants,” I say firmly, because I’m opposed to the idea that I’ll be hanging around long enough to need a whole damn suitcase. “And don’t call me Zarina.”
“I’m not particularly partial to Fangs myself,” he says mildly. “I’m addressed by the students as Master Aries. Feel free to do the same.”
I don’t bother telling Master Aries I’m not about to become one of his fucking students. Instead I leave him to his little delusions and his suitcase-fetching and corner Ronin by the desk, which has a nice broad surface to work from, plus the lamp.
Out from under his teacher’s unsparing eye, the patient looks grimly resigned to my doctoring.
And now that I’ve got Adam here backed up to the desk with my hands on his still shirtless body, applying a disinfecting ointment with gingerly fingers to that nasty-looking bite, I’m noticing how that black dragon tattoo winds all the way around his lean sinewy torso, wings wrapping around his ribs, forked tail twining over one supple shoulder.
I’m noticing that his dark spicy scent carries the musky essence of wolf, and I’m feeling insanely turned on at the thought of Lucius going all alpha shifter and scenting him.
I’m noticing that his leather pants are zipped but the button on top is open, and I’m thinking how easy it would be to ease that zipper down and wrap my hand around that thick pierced shaft that fucked me into oblivion a few hours ago and pump him into the orgasm I just interrupted.
“You do realize by now that I can read your mind, don’t you, love?” he says, low and husky. And my hands freeze in the middle of sanitizing all that hot velvety skin because, shit, I do keep forgetting he’s that kind of warlock.
“I’m Valyrian,” he says curtly, like he begrudges every word. “Telepathy’s one of our racial traits. Not to mention the fucking Geminis hold the bloodlines of all four arcane races because you’re so fucking special. How can you possibly not know your own gifts?”
“Because I’ve got a hate-hate relationship with my witchcraft, Adam.” I busy myself measuring out the gauze so I don’t respond to his aggression in kind. “My dad and my brother are warlocks and they’re both complete shits. And I didn’t like what being a witch did to my mom even before that witchcraft…” I clear my throat “…killed her.”
Under my hands, he ripples with sudden tension. His voice lashes through me like a whip. “Belladonna Gemini was congenitally unstable, a hopeless addict to wielding power she couldn’t control, and she was mad as a fucking hatter. The witching world should have locked her up years ago and thrown away the key. Instead, her precious pure blood gave her a free pass. Now innocent people are dead. Because Geminis specialize in murdering innocents, don’t they?”
I flinch under the hatred that blasts from his tone and scours my skin. Because, yeah, my mom was psycho and she was deadly, so how can I even argue?
I’m as deadly as she was.
I concentrate on folding the gauze into a thick pad because if I touch him now, he’ll feel my fingers tremble.
