Page 105 of Gemini Queen
In silhouette against the moonlit night, Ronin’s a tall but still extremely sexy shadow smelling like bergamot soap and, pretty strongly, like both Zara and Vasili. Zara I can totally get, because she scents a lot when she’s turned on, and she’s definitely into Ronin.
Vasili I can’t get at all, because those two guys hate each other’s guts. I wonder if maybe they’ve been fighting.
“Cat got your tongue then, Red?” he murmurs, humor lurking in his voice.
Belatedly I focus on his question. “I thought you said you’re staying?”
“Yeah, I am.” He shrugs. “Her bed’s plenty big enough for all three of us.”
That’s a concept that pretty much renders me speechless. Just sleeping in the same bed with Zara would be more than enough to make me happy. The thought of sharing that bed with both of them—the fated mate I adore and the guy I’ve been crushing on since I got here—just about makes my head explode.
Not to mention my dick.
“You don’t think she’d… mind?” I venture.
“Mind?” My naïveté wrings another chuckle out of Ronin. “Thought you’re supposed to be top of the Dean’s List? She’s polyamorous, Neo, like pretty much all the queens. Think she made it pretty bloody clear in that gazebo that she’s claiming both of us, yeah?”
That concept is so foreign to me (since just having one lover in my bed is a massive leap) that I stand there gaping at him like a confused freshman at orientation.
Can that possibly be true? My fated mate seems fairly resistant even to claiming me, and I’m secretly waiting for her to try sneaking off this island and ending up with six months’ detention. If she’s willing to claim both me and Ronin, does that mean she’s thinking about staying?
That possibility fills me up with such a painful swell of hope I can’t even speak.
“Go on in,” he says to me kindly. “You’re dead on your feet. I’ll bring in the cases. Hers, are they?”
“From her hotel in Singapore,” I explain. “I had them picked up when I realized how much she misses having her own things.”
“You’re a decent sort.” Ronin bends to lift the bulky cases like they weigh nothing. “She’s going to bloody adore that you did this.”
“I hope so,” I say happily. “I’m having everything boxed up and shipped from her old flat in Cairo too.”
Ronin pauses in mid-lift, a case hanging from each hand. “You’re, ah, having everything she owns shipped here, are you?”
“Yes, and I managed to break the lease on her new rental house in Sharm el-Sheikh and get her security deposit returned to her bank account. That’s the advantage of being her legal fiancé in the witching worldanda Mercury. We have access to really good lawyers.”
I’m aware that I’m rambling, because Ronin still makes me nervous, and there’s definitely something he isn’t telling me. I force myself to stop speaking and take a deep breath.
“Do me a favor, mate,” Ronin says at last. “Don’t, ah, tell her about the lease or the shipment from Cairo just yet. It’s late and we all need our sleep.”
“Sure.” Now I know there’s something he isn’t telling me, but I’m not going to learn whatever it is standing out here on the landing. “I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
“Yeah, all right,” he sighs. “You do that.”
Filing away my questions for later, I try the door and it swings open without a problem, which makes me hope she left it unlocked for me, even though I haven’t officially moved in yet. I swing it wide so Ronin can carry in the cases, then I follow him in.
It’s dark in here, just a dim red light leaking from the banked coals and pale moonlight streaming through the glass doors over her canopy bed. The air’s sweet and creamy with her fragrance. Soft snores—her snores, because I learned last night that my wonderful mate does snore—emanate from the blanketed lump in the bed where my cherished one slumbers, the wild tangle of her mermaid hair flung across the pillow.
Just the sight of her gives me a fluttery feeling in my chest. My heart lifts like it’s on wings.
That’s the euphoric rush of pure happiness.
I close the door softly in Ronin’s wake and shoot the deadbolt, because given what happened to Cybelle, we definitely can’t be too careful. I check to make sure the glass doors are latched too, because Lucius left his window open, so the house really isn’t secure, and someone could climb up the trellis from the garden.
By the time I’m satisfied that my cherished mate is safe, Ronin’s parked her cases near the armoire, tossed a chunk of wood on the fire, and is peeling out of his shirt in front of the flames.
For me, the planet almost stops spinning.
He’s just so… beautiful. His long hair’s still damp and messy from his shower, and he’s all supple skin and flexing muscle and that fantastic dragon roaring and spitting black flame across his chest. I can hardly believe he’s willing to share Zara with me, and I’m desperately wondering if that means the two of us—Ronin and me—might also be together.
