Page 70 of Gemini Kings
The whiplash curl of Vasili’s voice spins me around with another gasp. Adrenaline’s pumping through me from the pain I’ve already inflicted, laced with determination to finish the job. Now the sight of my terrible enemy (which he was, you know, until just recently) lounging in my doorway like a malignant David Bowie in the floating staircase climax scene ofLabyrinthgooses me with so much adrenaline I feel ready to summon lightning myself.
He’s obviously been outside, because his long black coat with the high furled collar is swirling open around his tall body. Cold night air’s still seeping from the folds. Snowflakes glitter in his silver hair and his cheeks are ruddy with cold.
I figure he’s probably been out flying, because he does that sometimes when he’s restless. It’s just one of those powers that makes him so scary.
Yeah, I’m mad at him too. But we’re not actually lovers, so I don’t feel betrayed by him the same way I do by Zara and Ronin. His choice to leave me behind doesn’t sting and rankle the same way. Instead, I’m just miffed enough at him that I finally found the courage tonight to kiss him, the way I’ve wanted to do for weeks.
Of course, it figures that when I finally took the plunge, I was so furious I just hurled myself at him and laid one on him with absolutely zero technique.
He probably hated it, being sloppy-kissed like that, by me of all people.
He’s probably been secretly laughing at me and my shitty technique all night.
Embarrassment brings heat flooding to my face. My tongue tangles in knots. All of which means I can’t answer him.
“Well? Don’t tell me you’re just going to stand there blushing?” Faced with my conflicted silence, his glacial eyes narrow. His gaze veers to the needle I’m still gripping, the disinfectant on the sink, and finally the little silver hoop I’m starting to think I’ll never manage to insert.
“Ah.” Comprehension flashes across his pretty face. My shoulders bunch up and I brace for him to mock me.
“I’m piercing my ear,” I say, totally unnecessarily, because clearly he’s figured that much out.
“Hmmmm,” he murmurs, looking thoughtful.
“Everyone else has one… practically,” I rush to add, because I remember suddenly thathedoesn’t. “I want one too. Maybe more than one.”
His clever eyes flash with amusement or, more likely, malice.
“Best to start with one.” He considers, head cocked, lips pursed, then gives a little huff. “Well. If you want your ear pierced, I’ll do it. But not like this. Up.”
“Up?” It’s all I can manage, to repeat his last word. Because nothing he’s saying makes any sense.
His lips curve in a small wicked grin. “Your derrière, darling.”
“My… derrière?”
“Oh, for the love of God,” he groans. “Hoist that luscious ass of yoursupon the sink. I’d lift you myself, but you’re such a brute.” He pouts. “You’d put my back out.”
A startled giggle fizzes out of me. I can never be sure with him, but I think he’s joking. I think he’s jokingwith me, which he literally never does.
An unexpected dart of happiness arrows through me. Biting my lower lip to hold back a grin, I brace my hands behind me and hoist myself up to sit. I’m a big guy, but this sink is ancient, it’s probably been here since before the fall of Rome, it can handle my weight.
The shift in perspective brings us eye to eye. He has sexy bedroom eyes—I mean, you know, when he’s not glaring like a psycho. They’re all smoky lids and long lashes and wicked intent.
Holding my gaze, he slips the heavy coat from his shoulders. It drops to the floor behind him.
Underneath he’s wearing his black silk turtleneck over his breeches. It’s one of my favorite outfits on him, just the starkness and simplicity of it against all that delicate beauty, and the way the sleek fabric clings to his lean balletic body makes my mouth go dry. He drifts toward me, slowly peeling his sleeves back to expose his sinewy forearms. His stare roams over my naked chest and abs and shoulders in a way that makes my skin heat and my breath rough.
Nervously, I swing my feet. “Do you really think my, um, derrière is luscious? Because you never said so before.”
“You don’t need me pampering your Mercury vanity. But, well, since you’reinjured…” He smirks at my pin-pricked ear. “Every inch of your perfectly toned body is a work of art. Are you satisfied? Because of course I live for that.”
I bite my lip harder, but I can’t hold back the grin sneaking across my face. I still can’t be sure, but it’s just barely possible there’s a little humor lurking at the corners of his mouth too. He pauses before my jutting knees and leans to one side to eye my medical supplies.
“Good Lord, you’re untidy,” he tuts. “First Boy, I amshocked. Where in all this ungodly mess is the numbing potion?”
“I’m not using any.” I tilt my chin in a defiant jut.
His gaze swerves back to mine and his pale brows float up in surprise, which annoys me.
