Page 69 of Gemini Kings
I rush into the hall and slam the door behind me to cut off their startled questions.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
At this hour, the house is all hushed and shadowy, the fire in the great room dwindled down to coals, with just the dim amber cone of the downstairs hall lamp and spears of gray light from the almost full moon knifing through the various windows to pierce the shadows. As I creep along the upstairs hall, the sleepy murmur of voices seeps under Racetrack’s closed door, where she and Dez are holed up.
Vasili’s door is open and his room is dark. God only knows where he’s gotten to. He tends to hide when he’s broody.
Downstairs, more muffled voices float from the library off the great room, where it sounds like Lucius is still walking Maxim through his school schedule. Under the asthmatic wheeze of the basement furnace, the patient drone of my teacher’s voice makes me smile.
I could wait for Lucius in his downstairs bedroom, where I’m pretty sure he plans to sleep tonight. But I’m not really in the mood myself to lie alone waiting in his cold bed.
It only takes a sec to figure out what I really want.
I’m tired of being sweet baby Neo.
I’msotired of it.
I’m tired of being the guy everyone babies and no one bites.
Quickly I collect some supplies from the first aid kit in the kitchen and retreat back upstairs to my room at the end of the hall, the room I hardly ever use anymore except for storage. It’s cold and dark in here without the fire, barely lit by the moonlight streaming through the leaded glass doors that open onto the snowy balcony.
The whole space smells kind of musty and mothbally, but it suits my cranky and disgruntled mood.
I leave the door open and the bedroom dark, but hit the switch in my half-bath. The old-fashioned bulb flickers on. The sputtery glow lights up the vintage black-and-white mosaic floor and the solid bulwark of the sink under the mirror. I line up my supplies on the sink’s wide sill, give my hands a good scrub with a sliver of my lavender soap, then use cotton and iodine to disinfect my left earlobe.
I’m going to pierce my ear.
I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Zara’s got six piercings rimming her whole left ear, plus her sexy nipple rings, and Ronin’s got that heavy ring through the head of his dick that makes me salivate.
And both of them have been bitten. Clearly, they’re not afraid of a little pain. Those piercings prove it.
And I’m not afraid either.
In fact, I’m not even going to use a numbing potion. I deliberately left the little vial downstairs in the first aid kit.
I fetch the silver hoop earring I bought off Dez a while ago and sterilize it carefully. Then I sterilize the needle I’ve also got ready. So far, the prep isn’t all that different from setting up for an alchemy experiment in the science lab in the Dean’s tower.
But now comes the tricky part.
I hesitate, then peel off my tee shirt, because it’s one of my favorites and maybe I’ll bleed a little. I take a sec to study myself in the mirror. My face frowns back at me, brow furrowed with concentration under my mussed-up curls, eyes resolved behind my glasses. There’s the dark shadow of the hickey Zara sucked into my neck today when she fucked me. I’m all bulked up and muscly from my hours in the gym, but no one’s here to appreciate it. My black sweats are riding low on my hips and the waistband of my boxer briefs is showing, but there’s no one here to notice.
I push my glasses firmly into place, pinch the edge of my earlobe between two fingers, place the needle’s sharp tip carefully where I want it. Then I suck in a deep breath, hold it, and jab the point into my tender flesh.
“Ow!Oh, crap!” I gasp.
I jabbed so hard I almost peed my pants.
Cripes, the needle didn’t even go through. I’m not even sure it broke the skin, because I’m not bleeding.
I drag in another deep breath, take a fresh hold on my throbbing earlobe, and give another good jab.
“Ouch!!”I yelp. That prick was so hard it made my eyes water. And that needlestillhasn’t gone through. “Oh, damn it.”
Through tear-filled eyes, I peer into the glass. Now there’s a tiny red dent where I jabbed. Well, that’s progress, isn’t it? Next time, I just need to jab harder.
With renewed purpose, I position the needle, pull in a breath, push out a noisy huff, and—
“Mercury? What the actualfuckare you doing to yourself in here?”
