Page 115 of Gemini Kings
Well, she’s certainly come to the right warlock.
To begin, she’s going to need something a bit more… dynamic… than a mere press conference. Something a bit more, shall we say, high concept? Fortunately, with all that accession law and arcane precedent fresh in my mind after delivering my underappreciated lecture for that ungrateful dragon’s benefit, I already have a concept taking shape for this Wednesday night spectacle that will command the entire witching world’s complete and unwavering attention.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maxim
Ancient Accession Rituals of the Witching World
I labor to peck out the title of my essay with two fingers on the antique typewriter in thedomuslibrary.
Because I am self-taught, my handwriting is not what it should be (for instance, legible). Vasili has taken one disdainful look at my first handwritten attempt and announced that the only way he will deign to grade my essays is if I type them.
And, as I have observed, computers do not function behind the island wards.
The flattap!as each letter flies up to strike the carriage echoes through the silent room, barely lit by a lick of fire in the grate and the branch of candles flickering on the old-fashioned table where I am working. Zara has been practicing her lightning on the roof with Lucius, because lightning magic will be part of her midterms.
And she is holding nothing back.
Consequently, the power seems to be out all over the island tonight.
Vasili is draped over the big Victorian wingback by the fire, completely absorbed in whatever antiquarian tome is spread open across his lap, one booted leg dangling over the upholstered arm in a way that silhouettes the supple line of his thigh against the fire. It is as though he is inviting someone to kneel beside his boot and nibble their way up that long leg of his.
Even worse, I am virtually certain he is wearing a corset under his Renaissance velvet coat, which is truly so distracting I can barely type.
But it is surely Lucius he is wearing lingerie for tonight, and not me. Lucius has been working feverishly with Zara all night, but our headmaster is definitely in heat. After the way Vasili was devouring Lucius with his eyes at dinner, I expected Vasili to shove our headmaster facedown over the dining room table and start pumping into him before we could even clear the room.
Abruptly Vasili’s head snaps around to pin me with his contemptuous stare. With a start, I realize I have stopped typing.
I am staring at him.
“Searching for the correct choice of word, Mr. Rasputin?” he bites out, every syllable chiseled from ice. “Need I remind you that I expect to see an adequate five-hundred-word essay before you’re excused for the night?”
With a sigh, I return to my two-fingered pecking at the round metal keys and my labored description of the ritual combats our ancient queens once undertook when they ascended. At least Vasili is still willing to teach me these things.
Truly, I cannot imagine why I ever kissed him, why I gave way to this forbidden impulse and indulged this forbidden temptation and committed this forbidden sin, except that I am in rut myself.
Tonight, we are both very careful to keep our distance.
A dark whiff of ambergris twines into my nostrils, and my dragon rumbles with interest. I sneak an upward look, as I toil over my English, to see Ronin Pendragon idle into the den.
He is still wearing the ripped jeans and silky shirt he wore at dinner, when he whispered in my ear and admired my piercings. Only now that shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, which gives me a searing eyeful of that black dragon tattooed across his tawny skin.
I swallow hard, because suddenly my mouth is dry. It is as though he has branded his body, branded himself specifically for me and my dragon to possess.
In truth, it is far more likely that he is branded for my sovereign and her dragon queen.
Since he does not even like me.
Covertly I watch between my painstaking keystrokes as he idles across the room, so supple and predatory he makes my heart pound, to where Vasili is reading by firelight. He leans over the back of Vasili’s chair to read over his shoulder. My teacher reaches back absently to slide a hand down Ronin’s leg.
“Are you all right, darling?” Vasili murmurs, so tender for such a terrible warlock. “How’s your heat?”
“Good for a bit yet.” Ronin sifts an affectionate hand through Vasili’s moussed and layered rock-star hair with an easy familiarity I marvel at. “Lucius fucked me so hard earlier I can still barely walk. You reading about royal coronations?”
“Hmmm.” It is obvious to both of us that Vasili is deeply absorbed in his reading. Still, he is a good alpha, even if he is only part shifter. “Do come and fetch me if you need a fuck.”
It still shocks me that they are so open, all of them, with these forbidden passions. I have to remind myself repeatedly there is no custom or religion here that forbids it. Our own queen is known to be bisexual, but her last female lover betrayed her, and she has taken no female lovers into her harem. (I have already concluded the other women who share this house are only with each other and seem to have no interest in the men.)
