Page 61 of Gemini Kings
“Allfaculty instructions?” Romanov purrs, echoing the wolf. His cruel face goes smooth and his pretty eyes turn wicked. “Well, well. That requirement places matters in rather a different light.”
The wolf slices my enemy a look that simmers with warning. “I trust I needn’t remind you, Mr. Romanov, that your own status at this Academy hangs by a thread.”
My enemy’s gaze slices toward me and his mouth crimps with displeasure.
“Thank you, Lucius. I am aware,” Romanov says icily.
This is useful intelligence, and clearly my enemy is not pleased that I now possess it.
I am still pondering how best to use it to my advantage when the wolf says firmly, “This is enough discussion for the moment. I see that Dez was kind enough to take my shift in the kitchen. We can all continue getting to know Maxim over dinner.”
“Yeah, no.” My dragon queen plants her hands on her hips and draws every eye in this room. “That flying Godzilla’s not setting foot in thisdomusuntil he explains why he’s really here. Because the last time I saw him, he was threatening to kill all my guys and drag me off with him to Siberia to make dragon babies. Somehow, I doubt he’s showing up here now because he’s suddenly jonesing for an Academy education.”
I square my shoulders and step fully into the room, because clearly no one is going to invite me. She lifts her chin and glares straight at me, silently daring me to deny the truth.
Our gazes lock like clashing swords. My dragon trumpets and beats his wings.
Ours, she is ours. And she is fertile, Maxim. She is fertile!
My dragon can be most single-minded and persistent.
Well, in this pursuit, so am I.
“I will not dishonor you or the bond between us with a lie,” I tell my mate, low and fierce. “Soon you will rise, and then I will claim you.”
“Yep, there it is right there.” Eyes flashing with ire, she spears a glittery fingernail in my direction. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
A wave of accusing heads snaps toward me.
Now, one and all, these others are rank with suspicion.
I cannot contain my scowl. “Once your superheat is upon you, my Zara, you will no longer oppose me.”
“Hey.” Another of her mates, one who has been silent, emerges from behind a desk piled with books and hurries to her side. “You can’t talk to Zara like that. Heat or no heat, she always gets to choose.”
He is young, this one, with a mop of purple curls falling over his brow and a scholar’s spectacles perched on his earnest face. He is no fighter, no match for my dragon. But his loyalty to her is absolute, and that is his weapon. Fiercely protective, he plants his big body at her side.
She reaches to claim his hand and draw him close, shooting me a look that dares me to protest.
A whiff of his sage-and-lavender soap floats past me, mingled with her mating scent.
This is the one whose clothing she is wearing.
My lip curls up to bare my teeth in a snarl.
It is shifter instinct, for which I can hardly be blamed (since I am a shifter), although the effect is lessened without my fangs, which a dragon only reveals when he intends to use them.
I have always envied Romanov his fangs, which are very fine, very permanent, and which contribute to his ruinous appeal.
But this bespectacled boy, to my displeasure, looks unimpressed by my display of aggression. He looms protectively over our queen’s petite frame and frowns at me as though I am an alchemical formula he firmly intends to master.
“Thank you, baby,” my sovereign murmurs, rising on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
Oh, she loves this one, how she loves him. Her love for him is written in her voice. No one has ever spoken so tenderly to me. I wonder what he has done to earn it.
Perhaps if I observe him long enough, I can learn the way to win my queen’s angry heart.
“You wanna win my heart, big guy?” Zara snorts. “For starters, stop threatening my warlocks, you asshole. And, for fuck’s sake,stoptalking about my fucking heat. I’m more than a fucking uterus, you got that?”
