Page 27 of Gemini Kings
“Dojoin the twenty-first century if you can, Maximka,” I drawl. “Zara rules her own bed. I merely fuck her, and everyone else, in it.”
Oh, very well, perhaps I’m fibbing just a bit. I haven’tactuallyfucked Neo Mercury (yet), either in our bed or out of it, although not for lack of trying, I assure you. We two were deadly rivals until Zara came along and claimed us both. Not to mention Mercury was an actual virgin until first Zara and then Ronin quite thoroughly deflowered him.
For some reason (admittedly a rather good one given our shared history), my former enemy still doesn’t seem to trust me.
It’s as though he suspects I have a vicious streak, darling.
Can you imagine?
“You?” Dripping contempt, the dragon’s flaming eyes rake over me, looking entirely unimpressed with my scrumptious couture. “Permit me to say, I have my doubts. Do you forget I have seen firsthand that you prefer a man to a woman in your bed?”
I give him an extra squeeze for that impertinence.
In fact, it’s all I can manage not to grind his bones.
Four years ago, it was little Maximka, spying on me going down on the Italian stallion captain of the family yacht, then tattling to my homophobic father about my naughty exploits, that got the poor captain fired and me shipped off to the Academy in disgrace.
Fuck you very much for that,malchik.
“Haven’t you heard? I’m bisexual.” I take a violent satisfaction in divulging this tidbit, even though the label still feels a bit odd.
Until Zara came along, I was quite happily convinced I was gay.
She’s still the only woman I’ve ever wanted. The only woman I ever will want, I strongly suspect—but I’m herscompletely. I’m her alpha. I’m her snake. I’m the dismay and the terror of all her enemies. I call the shots in our harem (mostly) when she isn’t doing it herself, which makes me a sort of unofficial king in the witching world, even if our queen and I haven’t actually married.
If I’m being honest (a phenomenon you should enjoy while it lasts), I’m more than obsessed with Zara.
I’m dangerously in love with her.
But that’s a secret so dangerous I only share it within the group.
Hearing now that I’ve lost my gay boy gold card due to my recent foray into bisexuality, the dragon blinks. His brow furrows in surprise.
Well, join the club on that one, Rasputin.
“This is not convenient,” he mutters after a bit. His cold Slavic features shift from cruelty to disgruntlement.
“I’m terribly sorry to inconvenience you,” I sniff, giving him another good telekinetic squeeze to amuse myself.
“Still,” he grunts, panting a bit from the atmospheric pressure I’m inflicting, “I am beyond thankful you never wedded my sister.”
I’m gratified to hear I’ve winded the brute with my fit of pique. Although I’m definitely squeezing, I’m careful not to close his airway (even if I do enjoy a bit of breath play from time to time). If he feels truly threatened, the wretch will surely shift, and I’m not at all certain I can hold him and all that reptilian mass and fury if he does.
“That makes two of us.” I suppress a delicate shudder at the thought of his bitch sister (who’s still single, incidentally, for a reason).Thatwas supposed to be the unappealing climax to our lovely summer at sea. A fairytale wedding to unite the witching world’s two Russian clans, the Scorpio and the Sagittarius, which of course I utterly spoiled by being gay.
Or so I earnestly believed at the time.
Until Zara.
The dragon scowls at my little jab just beautifully. He’s amusing to torment, this one. In fact, tormenting Maxim Rasputin may just become my new favorite hobby.
By now, Zara’s prowling past, and his head swivels to follow her like she’s got the poor boy’s nose tied to a string.
This terror of the skies is an apex predator.
Yet he’s positively riveted on the force of nature that’s our queen.
It’s a preoccupation I can surely understand, because Zara’s delectable at all times, but especially when she’s naked. She’s tiny and curvy with absolutely gorgeous breasts, all pert and pouty and crying out to be suckled, the most delicious pink nipples pierced by silver rings it drives her utterly mad to have tormented, the prettiest cunt you’ve ever seen, and she hasn’t entirely lost the string bikini tan lines she picked up reef-diving the Red Sea coast in Egypt over the winter before the Academy sank its claws into her.
