Page 27 of Virgo Queen
“Head in the game, Jean-Emilien,” Draco grinds out. “Get our girl dressed and stay with her. I’m goin’ in there with Pendragon.”
Ourgirl?
I guess Draco’s trying to be nice to me, you know, since his dick was just in my mouth?
My heart gives a painful ping of disappointment. But I have to be smart about this. The three of us just hooked up at an orgy.
It’s not like this is true love.
I mean, at least, not for them.
Jae growls in agreement, assesses the mounting pandemonium with a single sharp glance, then leaps for a pair of pants I don’t even think are his—because I dimly recall he shredded his (along with my whole dress).
Draco tosses his shirt and my panties in my direction, then shoulders brutally through the crowd after Ronin.
I blink through the haze of rapidly thickening smoke (plus a few threatening tears) that’s already burning my eyes and stinging my lungs. Ronin’s diving back into the den. At least the visual impact of glimpsing my former crush—the reigning hottie of the Icarus Academy—spectacularly naked is greatly reduced, since I’m now totally fixated on Jae and Draco instead.
More worrying is the way the lurid flare of fire from the den is growing. Fingers of smoke curl through the open door and creep along the ceiling like wraiths.
A sudden stab of fear for Zara (and Maxim, who’s also still in there) steals my breath. I slide my legs into my panties at warp speed and just ignore—as best I can—the cum-sticky mess Jae left behind down there.
Gosh, I’m a disaster. Practically naked, hair a riotous mane of curls spiraling in every direction, with kiss-swollen lips and werewolf cum dripping down my bare thighs. Honestly, I couldn’t look less like a proper First Girl if I tried. If our headmistress ever sees me like this, she’ll probably have an apoplexy.
Then I’ll get clapped in detention until I’m ninety.
But right now, a conduct infraction is the least of my worries.
My naked classmates are scattering every which way, some frantically searching for their clothes, others running right outside into the snow without coats or shoes. A few airheads scramble up the stairs into the maindomus, shriekingin a blind panic.
I grimace in exasperation as I drop Draco’s oversized tee shirt over my head. That warlock is way bigger than I am, so the soft fabric falls to mid-thigh, even on my giraffe-like legs. Plus, bonus, the shirt totally smells like him. His bracing and now familiar scent of juniper and bergamot envelops me like a hug.
The way he took care of me—took care of both of us—and kept us all safe? Just the thought of that gruff Nordic giant, with his mafia ink and scary rep, charging off into danger to protect us?
This reminder of Draco’s strength and his nearness is a definite comfort in this emergency.
The reason I’m exasperated is because literally no one’s following the protocol we’ve practiced (repeatedly) in the schoolfire drill. That drill’s really important, because some of our students can actually summon fire, and we’ve had accidents before at this academy.
Of course I know the fire protocol forwards and backwards, because I’m not only the First Girl. I’m also a hall monitor.
Now Draco too has vanished into the den—withthe fire—and there’s no sign of Zara or the others coming out, which is really worrying. Next to me, Jae’s swearing a blue streak in Cajun French and struggling to retract his claws and belting someone’s pants (which are clearly way too big on him) around his lean hips.
He’s reining himself in. Getting his wolf under control.
But it’s taking him a while.
Since no one else is following the fire protocol (which exists for a reason, darn it), I bolt for the fire alarm mounted on the wall. The device is geriatric, but one of my hall monitor duties is keeping the safety gear in thisdomusin working order.
I flip back the plastic cover and pull the lever.
The bone-rattlingring-a-lingof the fire alarm fills the air.
That bell is critical, because we have Mistress Aggie asleep and a few diligent students cramming for midterms upstairs. Everyone who’s not actively fighting the fire (which definitely includes my eighty-year-old asthmatic headmistress) needs to get out and stay out until this situation is contained.
What’s also important is that the bell is supposed to be the cue for designated students to form a fire brigade. Because we don’t have an actual fire department on this enchanted and mostly uninhabited island, hidden behind magical wards, in the middle of the ocean.
Jae hovers at my side, still shirtless, literally swimming in some other guy’s belted-on pants like a clown suit. By now, his wolf ears and fangs have retracted, so he’s fully human.
Not gonna lie, he’s a welcome sight.
