Page 129 of Gemini Queen
He’s the key, somehow, the key to controlling and channeling all this amperage that’s running through my lethal Gemini blood.
And the lock of his jaws and the suck of his mouth against my shoulder don’t make me feel menaced. He makes me feel safe.
Just like he’s always promised.
The orgasm I’ve barely been holding at bay rips through every synapse in my body and breaks through every wall I’ve ever built around my heart to protect me from hurting anyone or being hurt myself. I clamp tight and hard around the vicious hammer of his monster cock. My climax ripples through me and I scream my triumph to the skies.
He lifts his head from my bite and announces our mating with a bestial roar. Our cries twine and mingle like our power just did. His cock kicks inside me, so I can feel the spurt of his come even through the thin latex between us.
Next time, we’re losing the effing condom, because there will definitely be a next time and a next and a next. He’s mine. I’m claiming him.
And I’m staying. I’m staying at the Icarus Academy to learn everything I need.
Everything I need to become the Gemini queen.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Zara
I have to admit it. This dress is freaking gorgeous.
It’s a slanting one-shouldered style with an asymmetric hem that hits midway up my thigh on one side and just below my knee on the other. Cut from what looks like one solid swath of midnight silk, held together under one arm by a zigzag line of open turquoise lacing that manages to suggest a bolt of lightning and goesallthe way down from my armpit to my hem.
Which pretty much means I can’t wear panties. Or a bra. It’s just me, my suntan, and the dress.
A dress that’s totally me. Me as the queen I’ve secretly decided I’m going to be.
I freaking love this dress.
Not to mention, it skims over my freshly showered body and kisses my curves like a lover’s hands.
This is a dress chosen by someone who knows exactly what’s in my closet—both my size and my style—or else someone with a keen eye and an impeccable fashion sense.
Which pretty much means either Neo or Vasili.
Neither of whom showed up for Dez’s yummy Pad Thai tonight. Looks like Vasili’s still brooding over the whole Ronin revelation, while Ronin himself spent the entire delicious meal fretting and second-guessing himself for having spilled those particular beans in public.
While I spent the whole meal fretting and second-guessing myself overnotspilling my own beans to Neo. My sunny-tempered mate’s not usually the broody sort, and I’m starting to think I fucked up bigtime.
I should have trusted him.
To add to my worries, Lucius himself was a no-show. Which makes me wonder if maybe he’s doing a little second-guessing himself about our thermonuclear sex fest in the belfry. At least he’ll appreciate that the wide swath of fabric winding over my shoulder covers up the neat twin punctures he left when he bit me. He tongued me enough post-climax that his shifter saliva closed the wounds—all that affectionate post-bite tending he wanted to do after he bit Ronin, but couldn’t.
Now there’s a slow warmth building under my skin that tells me the mating heat’s definitely coming. I’m already starting to feel frisky.
Suffice it to say, I came back from dinner distracted as fuck. Only to find this dress hanging primly in my open armoire, with the cutest pair of combat boots in the history of combat boots lined up underneath. Boots the exact shade of my teal hair, currently twisted in a sleek go-go girl ponytail high on my crown.
Maybe the outfit means Neo’s ready to forgive me.
But, more likely, it’s just the Goblin King living up to his half-threat, half-promise to dress me in a manner suitable to appear on his imperial arm in public.
Either way, I’m ready on time (of course), but I’m twitchy and jumpy as a novice thief breaking into her first bank (not that I’d ever do a thing like that). Darkness presses against my windows and I’m reduced to pacing my bedroom floor and watching the digits on my dive watch flash past.
That’s what I’m doing when the sharp rap of knuckles on my door makes me jump.
There’s no way Neo’s ever knocked on a door like that in his life, so I know right away who’s out there.
Now that it’s finally showtime, my famous nerves of steel kick in. I take my time checking my makeup at my vanity, swiping on another layer of Betty Boop mascara and adding a fresh coat of bubble-gum lipstick to my pucker.
