Page 90 of Gemini Queen
Adrenaline spurting, I spin toward the noise. Suddenly I’m super aware there’s a queen killer on the loose. And I’m deeply missing that stiletto I lost on Wang’s penthouse roof.
But the shadowy zigzag stairs that climb behind me are empty. My solitary footsteps dimple the snowy drifts.
Still, the back of my neck is crawling. Suddenly I’m not so crazy about breaking cover and popping into the open with a bigta-dah!for whoever’s fucking with me.
But I’m even less crazy about lurking in this alley.
I put on my game face and saunter into the piazza like the queen I am. Right away my chest unlocks and that closed-in feeling recedes.
Whatever was bugging me was definitely in that alley.
I huff out a frosty breath and beeline to the fountain, all encrusted with icicles that glitter like crystal daggers in the light of a far-off streetlamp. There’s no sign of that snake Vasili, and I swear to God, he better not have stood me up—
With silent grace, a slim dark shape drops from the snow-filled skies and lands gently on the cobblestones in front of me. I leap back and squeak in surprise like a fucking mouse. Then I make out Vasili’s smug smirk and curse myself for giving him the satisfaction.
“Cheese on toast, can you really fuckingfly?” I grouse. “On top of all your other charming traits?”
Because I was kind of hoping I hallucinated him flying in the courtyard yesterday after his secret Ronin sex-fest when he chased me through thedomus.
“Weren’t you listening in Genetics class?” His amused voice slithers through the falling snow. “Levitation is a Mogadon gift.”
“Yeah, but you’re only supposed to haveone,” I point out irritably, brushing snow from my peacoat with my mitten. “You’re already telekinetic.”
“I’m a very powerful warlock,” he says lightly. “There’s a reason I’m the Scorpio scion, destined to rule my clan. Best to bear that in mind if you ever cross me, princess.”
Yeah, just go ahead and give me a warning I don’t effing need, you pit viper. And the fact that he stands there looking like a glam ’80s rock star while he’s doing it just annoys me more.
He’s given the regulation Academy peacoat a hard pass in favor of a black slim-cut coat that whispers around his boots and a ribbed standing collar that frames his silver hair. Faux military medals glitter on his chest and some sort of pale fur nestles against his long throat. Plenty of room in all those layers for him to hide his knives. He’s like a cross between a runway model and a fairytale prince.
He’s the Goblin King. He’s lethal in so many ways I can’t even count.
I hate him and I want him.
He watches me watching him and his head tilts like he’s trying to figure me out. And the silence is getting awkward, so I shove my hands in my pockets and say curtly, “That was you back there in the alley playing games with me, wasn’t it? I want you to knock it off.”
“In the alley?” His silver brows draw together. “No. But we do have shifters on this island, and the moon is nearly full. So we really shouldn’t dawdle in the open. Do you want inside the dive shop or not?”
It’s all there in his voice, every word edged with challenge. He thinks I’m all hat and no horse, that I’m not really serious about this wholeEscape from Alcatrazcaper.
That’s only because he’s never seen me on a heist.
“I want,” I say flatly.
Which, for some reason, makes his pale eyes flash like lightning. He glides toward me through the snow. I have to make a conscious effort to stand my ground.
“Tell me, little queen, precisely how badly do you want?” he breathes. “Badly enough to trust me?”
My heart’s slamming against my breastbone like it wants to get out. I dredge up my tough-girl voice, but I need to work at it. “Yeah, Goblin King, and that’s pretty bad. But don’t even think about trying anything, or I’ll put you on your glamorous ass.”
He huffs out a little chuckle and I give him a warning glare, but my entire body is tingling. By now, he’s standing way too close for my peace of mind. I can actually smell him, the potent scent of sandalwood and Ronin’s ambergris, spiked with a kick of caramel.
He’s scenting.
For some reason.
But it’s him coming into my space, not me threatening him in his.
“Someday, Zara Gemini, you and that mouth of yours,” he murmurs, his dangerous gaze dropping to my offending mouth, “are going to land you in real trouble.”
