Page 23 of Gemini Queen
Above the fire’s hiss and snap and now the sound of Neo Mercury panting like a German Shepherd in heat, I pick out Ronin’s distinctive tread, prowling like a panther through the atrium, even though typically you never hear the man coming until he’s right on top of you. Lucius’ measured stride is easier to discern. His wolf erroneously considers himself the alpha of our little pack, and he wants you to hear him coming.
But I don’t hearher.
The fucking queen.
I wonder if it’s possible she eluded their clever bait-and-switch in Singapore. I wonder if her littleménagecouldn’t be prevailed upon to betray her for a minor fortune after all. I wonder if the prospect of Zara Gemini roaming blithely at large while the arcane races dwindle into extinction will really be the tragedy the notables of the witching world are making it out to be.
I’m still wondering about that, in particular, when Ronin stalks through the door with Zara Gemini’s diminutive form dangling limply from his arms.
Neo blurts a startled noise and rushes out from behind the desk.
Dez blinks her big innocent eyes at the spectacle and exclaims, “Crikey! What happened to her?”
Even Racetrack, who’s hardly more enthusiastic about the new queen’s arrival than I am, sits up and looks perplexed.
“Nothing’s happened to her,” Lucius reassures the room at large, following Ronin with his perennial briefcase gripped in one hand and a trendy piece of ladies’ luggage in the other. “Our new queen became somewhat… agitated during our final approach. I deemed it prudent to administer a sleep spell to calm her.”
Lucius excels at the common magics all witches and warlocks of any race can perform, so I’m unsurprised. But if one of Icarus Island’s typically bumpy landings through our protective wards was enough to agitate the little queen, an hour spent under the same roof as Ronin and me should terrify the poor thing witless.
That’s assuming she isn’t already. I bare my teeth in a malicious grin.
Truly, I can barely wait to get started.
Neo’s already galloped across the living room like a rutting stallion to hover anxiously over the new queen. But now he’s too timid to touch. Nervously he adjusts his glasses and peers into her sleeping face.
“Not that I’d ever question your methods, Master Aries,” he says humbly, because that’s the role he likes to play, “but was this really necessary? She’ll have an awful shock waking up in a strange bed without any idea how she’s gotten here.”
Not nearly as much of a shock as I’m about to give her.
I don’t bother shielding the thought.
And Dez, who has Valyrian blood and is therefore a strong telepath, picks it right up and shoots me a worried look. Ronin too must be receiving, since he’s too strong a telepath himself to miss my public broadcast. But he hasn’t even looked at me since he turned up with the fucking queen in his arms.
I find his neglect annoying, because he’s been gone for three interminable days and now that he’s back, I’m not in the mood to be neglected. I’m in the mood to be placated. I’m in the mood to be pleased.
And no one knows how to please me better than Ronin.
“Given the unpredictable nature of her powers and her lack of formal training, I deemed it advisable.” Lucius hands her suitcase to Neo, which is an excellent use for all those muscles. “Why don’t you unpack her things and light a fire in her room for her, Mr. Mercury? She’ll appreciate the comfort when she wakes.”
I snicker and uncoil to my feet, sliding the knife I’ve been sharpening into the hidden sheath strapped to my inner arm as I saunter over. “That’s not at all the sort of fire our Mr. Mercury’s longing to ignite for his fated mate. Is it, lover boy?”
He shoots me a murderous look around a sweep of magenta hair. But he knows better than to backtalk, or I’ll make him suffer. He may be First Boy on the Dean’s List, but I’m the undisputed alpha on this island. Even if I occasionally share my top dog status with Lucius Aries when he lets his wolf out to play.
Lucius too spares me a narrow look. “Mind the fire, Mr. Mercury. And you, Mr. Romanov, will kindly mind your tongue. It’s been a tiring journey for all of us.”
For him, the admonition’s a mild one. But it still makes me want to slash one of my knives across his jugular.
PreferablyafterI shove him face down over Neo’s desk and give his professorial hole the ruthlessly thorough reaming we all fantasize about getting or giving (or both) with our aloof History of Witchcraft teacher. It’s all fairly standard and tedious, of course—that whole fuck-the-prof fantasy—and the fact that he’s headmaster of our residential college and lives under the same roof is the sole reason it’s him we all fixate on. Still, it’s a complete disgrace that all of us (except Racetrack and Dez, who are exclusively into each other) can’t seem to stop having it.
“Oh, I don’t know, darling,” I murmur, eying Ronin under my lids. “There are plenty of people right here at this Academy who positively enjoy my tongue.”
Ronin makes an impatient sound and shifts the witch’s weight in his arms, but he still won’t fucking look at me. He’s absolutely ignoring me, and he has to know what that’s doing to me. I want to clamp my hand around the back of his neck and shove my tongue down his throat and kiss him until he moans.
Instead, since that’s my purest desire at the moment (and since no one else on the entire island knows we’re lovers) I follow the cardinal rule of my existence and conceal the impulse.
I glance down carelessly at the new arrival. “Let’s have a look at our new queen.”
She’s so tiny she’s practically swimming in a pair of pressed linen pajama pants and one of Lucius’ starched shirts, a soft white blanket tucked around her. This new queen’s hair is a minor sensation, a wild tangle of blue-green curls sprinkled with melting snow, draped over Ronin’s arm and spilling halfway to the floor. Her dreaming face reminds me of a young Marilyn Monroe, all long lashes and lush lips and vivid teal brows.
