Page 73 of Gemini Queen
“Turns out Ronin’s not interested in helping.” Takes me a sec to realize the girl’s talking about her telepathy training, not polishing Lucius’ apple. She stoops to lift her knapsack, which Neo promptly shifts to his own broad shoulder. “I’m actually just leaving.”
Now she’s making decisions for me instead of letting me make them for myself? That pisses me right off. Thinks she knows me, does she?
“Ronin hasn’t actually answered, love.” I swing my feet to the floor with a thud. “Because you haven’t given Ronin the blooming chance. If you want my help, you can fucking have it—under one condition.”
Surprise shifts to suspicion in her pretty face. “What condition?”
“You tellhimwhy we’re doing this.” I cock my head toward Neo. “Because I’ve got to live under the same roof with the lot of you. And I’m going to need a raincoat to shield myself from the shitstorm once your fated mate here tumbles to the truth.”
Neo’s formidable brain may currently be parked between his legs, but he’s still a sharp fellow. Faster than she’s likely ready for, shock flashes across his face.
To be quickly eclipsed by hurt.
“You… you’re… trying to shut down our bond?” Swimming with betrayal, his eyes swing toward her. “Babe, why would you want to do that?”
For some damn reason, I actually feel sorry for the man. I even feel a wee bit sorry for her… Zara… despite the fact this emotional train wreck is clearly her fault.
Her and her mixed messages.
She lays a gentle hand on his forearm (again with the mixed messages). “I told you from the start we’re not mated. I told you I’m not staying. Remember?”
“Yes, but I thought you changed your mind when we bonded.” Neo wears his whole heart in his face.
I’m really not sure why this whole daytime drama is getting to me. No doubt the heat simmering in my blood has something to do with it. But I find I can’t just stand about like a rubbernecker at a traffic accident and watch the carnage.
With a curse, I shove to my feet.
In unison, their faces swivel toward me, Zara trapped and guilty, Neo hurt and increasingly pissed.
It’s an interesting look on him. Makes me want to kiss it right off him.
That’s definitely the mating fever talking.
“The pair of you are drawing quite the crowd,” I point out, which is true. Every set of eyes in the commons is riveted on this twelve-car pileup. I ought to be selling tickets.
Vasili’s actually leaning forward in his seat like he’s trying to hear as well as see. VIP ticket for him then.
I angle my head and lock eyes with the girl’s wary stare. “You want a telepathy tutor? I’ll fucking do it. But I’m not a performing monkey. I won’t put on a show for the huddled masses.”
I pivot on my heel and make for the door that leads back to the cloister and the classrooms. I don’t bother waiting round to see if she swallows the bait and follows me either.
If she doesn’t, I’m heading straight to Lucius’ office. I need a major fuck the minute his class lets out.
I pitch up in the conservatory—that’s the glassed-in cloister garden—and both of them pitch up there right behind me. The walk gives everyone the chance to get their shit together. Not to mention the warm damp environs, infused with lush green smells, enfolds us like a hug.
A Villa Hadrian chap is loitering by the koi pond, but one menacing look from me sends him scampering. I head for the overgrown gazebo, whose peaked roof and lattice walls are thick with moss and vines, which makes it almost totally private.
It’s actually a make-out spot, so thank fuck it’s vacant. My revved-up libido couldn’t take the sight of anyone fucking right now without me joining in.
The two of them crowd in with me.
Which is a bit imprudent given my state.
Neo props Zara’s knapsack on the bench that rims the octagon and rakes back his wild hair. Even in the midst of his hurt and anger, struggling to understand this complicated queen, he’s careful with her things.
He really is a decent sort. Probably doesn’t deserve half the shit Vasili puts him through.
“He definitely doesn’t,” Zara says aloud, because I’ve already opened my mind to her. “None of this is his fault.”
