Page 74 of Gemini Queen
Neo looms, all sober and protective, at her shoulder. “What are you going to do, Ronin?”
“I’m going to teach her to shield her mind, because that’s what she fucking asked for. So she can shut out anyone she doesn’t want. I figure that’s her call. If you’ve got a problem with that, mate, you shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t have a problem with Zara learning to protect herself,” he says slowly. “Even if she’s protecting herself from me. I’m going to stay and watch, but I won’t interfere. I promise.”
Which pretty much puts a bow on it. He’s just confirmed my growing belief that he doesn’t deserve this shit.
But that’s his call to make.
My gaze shifts to her, marooned in the middle of the gazebo with arms clutched protectively round her middle. She’s wary and a bit scared, which shows how uncomfortable she is with all those Gemini powers.
Of course, it’s the lightning voice she really fears. Because it’s the lightning voice she kills with.
Maybe if she’s more at ease with her telepathy, her lethal recessives will seem a bit less daunting. Not that I’m losing sleep over her and her little problems. But if I say I’m going to do something, I bloody well do it.
For once, I make an actual effort not to sound like a total arse. “Come over here, then. Telepathy’s easier to control when you’re in physical contact.”
She squares her shoulders and walks where I want, but she’s hugging her elbows like a prisoner marching to the gallows. I uncross her arms, grip her hands in mine, and plant her palms firmly on my waist.
In my current state, the heat of her touch scorches through me like a prairie fire.
It’s all I can manage to settle my hands on her shoulders for the exercise.
Because I’m suddenly burning to get much closer.
If this queen ever claims her formidable power, she can cast lightning with those hands that are currently resting so chastely at my waist. A lightning witch calls the lightning with her voice, but she casts it with her hands.
The way this one reportedly did in Vegas the night she fried those poor bastards.
“That was anaccident,” she whispers, her gaze searching mine like she’s terrified I won’t believe her. “Those men were… hurting me. Hurting my mom. I only wanted them tostop. I never meant to…” She swallows hard. “…kill.”
Damn. She feels so bloody wretched any telepath would ache to wrap her in his arms.
But she’s a Gemini, so she can just fucking suffer.
Apparently Neo feels the same pull, because he comes up behind and wrapshisarms about her waist. She leans into his touch. For some damn reason, I’ve got to actively resist the impulse to shove into her space and cover her trembling lips with mine. To trap her between the two of us and eradicate all that fear by giving her something else to think about.
Like the two of us and our matching boners.
Plague take this mating fever.
I grip her shoulders and give her a little shake. Not hard enough to snap her Gemini neck, more’s the pity. “Let’s just focus on your telepathy, yeah? You’re clearly receiving and transmitting right as rain, but you can choose not to. You need to imagine you’re building a good solid wall between us.”
Wide and wary, her gaze holds mine. “What kind of wall?”
“Make it a brick wall. Lay it bit by bit, and slather on plenty of mortar. The key trick’s to visualize. The sun-warmed weight of the bricks in your hand. The chalky scent of the mortar in your lungs. The solid chink of the trowel as the wall rises and rises between us.”
It’s a fairly basic exercise that will only keep me out (if she does it right) and not Neo behind her, but I want the poor dear to have an easy win to build her trust in me. It will also build her confidence before she tries something trickier, like building a circular wall to keep everyone out. She’s leaning on Neo telepathically as well as physically, though she doesn’t seem to realize it.
Whatever she might be telling herself, she doesn’t actually want to shut him out.
Over her shoulder, his open face lifts to mine. Which makes me realizeI’mprojecting athim.
Silently he lets me know he doesn’t mind, a little smile stealing over his lips.
He isn’t Valyrian, so he can’t initiate a link—except with her. And even that much telepathy seems problematic in his case, since Zara means to block him. Still, since I’m Valyrian myself, I can project to him, and I can read him too if I like. It’s just I typically wouldn’t without an invite, as a matter of telepath ethics.
I leave the mental door open for him. With a little shove from my end, he can see through my mind the lively progress Zara’s making on her wall. She may distrust her witchcraft, but she’s a damn quick study. The turbulent current of her guilt and distress over the whole Vegas slaughter eases to a trickle and then stops.
