Page 158 of Gemini Kings
But all’s well with all my kings—all five of them. All five of these powerful mates who will stand behind my throne and rule at my side.
And I’m kinda busy right now myself.
Besides, I know the absent three will give me the full blow by blow (hardy-har) later.
My floating mind slips back into my body with a snap.
My cunt clenches and ripples around Max’s dick as he pistons hard and fast inside me. Static races and crackles over all three of our locked and straining bodies. I’m so full of dragon spunk that my lower belly feels warm and distended. His lock bottles up most of it, but he’s still spurting inside me. My thighs are soaked with his juices and mine. My whole body’s slick with sweat.
Vasili’s silky mouth closes over the new mating bite on my shoulder in a way that makes goosebumps race over my skin.
Max’s hot mouth locks around my nipple in a fierce sucking pull that shoots straight to my clit.
I arch back in their arms, both my kings, and scream to the heavens in the lightning voice. The whole room glows ultraviolet in the witchy light that spills from my eyes. Thunder rips open the night, a holocaust of light flashes platinum through the tall arched windows, and the church bell dongs once in a deep-throated hum.
I could shatter this church like an eggshell with one whack from my lightning hammer. But I don’t. I’m in control. I’m in command. The lightning does my bidding and slams—powerfully, joyfully, harmlessly—into the winter sea.
The bell’s still humming, the church sizzling with amperage, the whole island pulsing with Gemini power, when my kings smash my first superheat like a Molotov cocktail.
Bring on that so-called rival of mine and anyone else who questions my right to rule the witching world.
Bring.
Them.
On.
Me and my Gemini kings? The six of us—the snake, the dragon, the wolf, the telepath, the alchemist, and the lightning, all six of us together—we’re unstoppable.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lucius
I finish grading the last midterm at midnight.
This endeavor on my part has been substantial, but essential. This is because the Dean has clearly indicated she will permit the considerable disruption of a WNN television crew inside the formidable island wards tomorrow if—and only if—every student in my cohort passes their midterms.
The fire in my potbellied stove has dwindled, the acrid scent of charred wood mingles with the dank smell of damp stone, and my office in the church crypt is growing cold as the tomb it is.
Eyeing the sarcophagus where the bones of my long-dead predecessor provide macabre but quiet company, I lean back in my desk chair and stretch to ease the cramped muscles knotted between my shoulder blades.
Perhaps I’ll shed my tie and pants and blazer right here and allow my wolf out to lope through the snowy streets to thedomus.
The moon is finally waning, which means our various heats are sputtering out. In a few days, Zara’s monthly will arrive. She tends to be less energetic sexually during that time (although my own hunger for her is entirely unabated), so that tends to be a quieter and more restful interlude for our polycule.
I do hope it won’t overly disgruntle Maxim, who’s still settling into his new relationships with the group, when that incontrovertible biological evidence arrives to confirm our still-childless state.
Zara simply isn’t prepared to start clutching dragonets. Or wolf pups, for that matter, although I find that singular prospect is not at all unappealing.
She’s made her current position on pregnancy abundantly clear.
Indeed, I dare say none of us—including Maxim—is truly ready to assume the heavy mantle of parenthood just yet.
I’m switching off my desk lamp and tucking my tidy pile of graded examinations into my briefcase when a mannerly knock on my office door makes me smile. There’s only one person who would come to fetch me home at this hour who’d knock so politely.
“Come in, sweet boy,” I call softly.
Neo slips into my sanctum, still wearing his sober coat, his earnest face ruddy with cold, snowflakes melting in his curls.
