Page 52 of Gemini Queen
I plant my hands on my hips in a power stance, because out of the three possible options, this has to be aggression, and I want him to back the hell off. “What the fuck, Goblin King—”
“You’ve been with Neo Mercury.” He slices me a smoking look that’s hot enough to singe my skin. “Yourfated mate. I can smell him on you.”
I tilt my head and squint at him suspiciously, because that sounds like territoriality… over me… and that’snotwhat I expect out of him.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I point out irritably. “But I totally reject that whole fated mate concept. That’s what I keep telling Neo. But he just won’t listen.”
Now he looks positively predatory.
I can’t help noticing the cold has reddened his lips and tweaked his nipples into tight little nubs that just beg to be suckled in someone’s warm mouth. I wonder if he’s planning to go straight back to Ronin for that after he sends me on my way.
The image of those two together gooses my vitals with a jolt of erotic heat.
And all those Mogadon pheromones Vasili’s pumping out right now definitely aren’t helping. He leans in closer to rub his face in my hair, his quickened breath brushing my ear. Which is even more unsettling while I’m borderline turned on by him.
I press my thighs together under my short skirt. I really need not to be thinking about the Goblin King’s nipples right now. Or imagining Ronin tonguing him. Or imagining tonguing him myself—
A shrill pure sound spirals up from somewhere in thedomusand unravels in the icy air.
It’s a girl’s voice.
Screaming.
Vasili clips out a curse in Russian and pivots toward the doors. That’s where the scream’s coming from, and he’s already running toward it with me on his heels.
We tear into the house through a sitting room with a central hearth that’s probably pretty cozy at night with the fire lit, then we pound down a short flight of stairs to the atrium. By now the scream’s gone silent, but that’s not necessarily a good thing. There’s the door to the street I was looking for earlier.
Now it’s wide open to let the cold pour in.
Vasili stops dead in the threshold and, for the second time today, I barely manage to avoid running right into him. Impatiently I nudge his tall obstructive body to one side so I can see too. Somewhat to my surprise, he doesn’t backhand me for presuming to touch his precious self, but gives way and shifts to one side.
Dez is standing in the street, bundled up in her coat and boots, clearly just coming home from school. Another girl’s standing beside her with an arm wrapped around Dez’s shoulders, trying to comfort her.
And on the doormat at my feet lies a jumbo koi a good three feet long, the fish’s gullet slit open from stem to stern, bloody guts spilling out all over the flagstones and spattering the door.
Jammed down around its head is a kid’s toy crown.
The sight of this majestic ocean dweller brutally butchered for no freaking reason is upsetting enough. But the sight of that crown makes me feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. A nauseating sense of dread sweeps through me and churns in my stomach.
Because, all too clearly, this threat is meant for me.
A spray of violet sparks sputters from my icy fingers before I can twist off the spigot. Which makes this whole fiasco a thousand times worse. Because I haven’t actually sprayed sparks like that since I shut down my witchcraft after the casino explosion five years ago. Here on this island, with these hostile and unpredictable warlocks, I feel like I’m coming undone.
Which is one more very real danger I have to fear.
Somewhere in the arctic sky, I barely hear a distant mutter of thunder.
But it’s there.
And where there’s thunder, there’s lightning.
I ball my hands into fists so hard my hands ache to extinguish the last sparks and slice a wary glance all around. But no one seems to have noticed my little pyromaniacal lapse. Dez is pulling her shit together, and her friend lets her stand on her own and swings toward me. I’m guessing this is the elusive Racetrack. She’s a hard-faced girl rocking a boyish look in a military-style khaki coat over her uniform, an olive knit stocking cap pulled over short blond hair. Her gray eyes lock with mine and her mouth twists in a wry grimace.
“Looks to me like someone’s way of saying welcome to Icarus, Queen Zarina,” she drawls. “Anyone in the mood for sushi?”
Chapter Sixteen
Neo
