Page 54 of Gemini Kings
Chapter Twelve
Vasili
Hours have passed since Lucius issued his horrid ultimatum, night has fallen, and I’ve finally returned to thedomusafter fretfully paging through my long-neglected textbooks and a pile of student assignments in desperate need of grading, my labors interspersed with bouts of pacing the empty streets to work off my simmering agitation.
And I’ve barely gotten home when I have my inevitable run-in with that luscious little imbecile Mercury.
When I saunter into the great room, four of my housemates are already scattered about, studying for midterms in the blazing light and heat of the central hearth.
Racetrack’s sitting cross-legged on the settee before the fire in faded jeans and a flannel shirt, her hard face stamped with her usual scowl. Deftly she scribbles in her journal (she writes appalling poetry with no meter, caps, or punctuation, and she fondly imagines none of us know) while she simultaneously toasts a marshmallow to a fiery crisp on a long stick.
Zara’s curled up on the high-backed Renaissance sofa. There she nibbles on a pencil and frowns over her Common Magics grimoire. She’s bundled her succulent body in one of Mercury’s oversized Academy sweaters, with thick socks over her leggings. Ronin wraps around her from behind like a blanket while he studies over her shoulder from the same text, his long hair spilling forward to curtain her arm.
Looking well content with the entire arrangement, my boyfriend spares me a lazy grin.
Hmmm. It’s obvious to me the two of them have been fucking again since I left. Probably with that overeager puppy Mercury.
I’m truly sorry I’ve missed it.
The peanuty spice of kung pao chicken and the sizzle of sesame oil emanate from the open kitchen, where Dez is handily whipping up one of her culinary masterpieces for collective consumption in thedomus’s big wok. We all take turns on kitchen duty, but Lucius usually cooks on Thursdays, so that’s something else our unscheduled absence has thrown off.
But Neo Mercury, notoriously my sworn enemy at this Academy until quite recently, commands the lion’s share of my attention.
After the ordeal of this unauthorized separation from his fated mate, I fully expect to find him lying across Zara’s legs like a lapdog, drooling and panting with contentment.
Instead, he’s barricaded himself behind orderly piles of textbooks in his study nook in the corner, his broad shoulders and wide chest poured into another of those ubiquitous Academy sweaters as he bends diligently over a notebook lined with his copperplate script. A sloppy comma of magenta hair obscures his puppy-dog eyes.
Very briefly, I’m tempted to stroke it back for him.
Of course, his demeanor changes the moment he looks up to find me invading the room (where I have every right to be). His offensively gorgeous mouth hardens and his perfectly square jaw juts. Then he rakes back that ridiculous mop of purple curls, pushes his stylish glasses firmly up his nose, and shoves to his feet.
“Hi, bad boy,” Zara murmurs to me from the couch without looking up, frowning as she underlines something in her textbook.
“Good evening, darlings,” I purr to the room at large. “Did you miss me terribly?”
In fact, I’m not entirely certain of the welcome I’ll receive, especially with Mercury circling his desk with that alarmingly purposeful expression and powering across the big room in my direction.
“Hiya, cobber,” Dez calls cheerfully from the kitchen, her ponytailed head popping briefly into view. A mischievous smile animates her face. “Wouldn’t insist on an honest answer to that one from this lot, yeah? Pop off those snowy boots, there’s a love. We’ll eat in a jiffy.”
Racetrack spares my return an indifferent look and shoves her burning marshmallow deeper into the fire. “Dinner’s gonna be late, obviously. Lucius is MIA. Didn’t happen to run into him while you were out, did ya, Romanov?”
So much for being missed.
“Oh, hours ago at the church,” I say vaguely, my gaze veering from Racetrack to Mercury bearing down on me.
We haven’t attacked one another—not physically, at least—since Zara’s added us both to her harem. But that could certainly change if little Neo’s still as pissy about being left behind as all those voice mails he left on Ronin’s mobile appear to imply.
“Careful,” I murmur as he closes in. My fingers tingle with witchcraft, but Zara will be furious if I assault her precious poodle. “You’re drooling, and this frock coat requires dry cleaning.”
“You’re such a jerk,” he says roughly, which is certainly an understatement if ever I’ve heard one. “I mean it.”
“Well, guilty as charged…” I simper.
“Shut up.” His hard hands connect with my chest and shove me back into the nearest wall.
Then my nemesis at this Academy dives in, crushes his mouth over mine, and proceeds to kiss me absolutely speechless (an exceedingly rare occurrence, I assure you).
We’ve only kissed once since we joined our queen’s harem, and that encounter was instigated by me, mainly at Zara’s urging. So it’s an entirely novel experience for him to initiate any sort of intimacy with despicable me. Now his big hands clutch my shoulders hard enough to bruise my tender skin.
