Page 19 of Gemini Queen
The thing is, I’m used to being the alpha in the room.
And, clearly, so is he.
“Cat got your tongue?” I say snidely, once the silence gets to be too much. I’m starting to suspect this katana I’m still gripping might be overkill, but I’m not feeling anywhere near secure enough to lower it. “One of you better start talking and fast. Where the hell are we?”
Ronin’s rummaging through the beveled glass liquor cabinet with his back to me. He doesn’t bother answering or even turning around.
Which leaves it to Fangs, who glances at the old-fashioned leather watch strapped to his wrist and finally fucking talks. “By now, we’ll have entered Italian airspace. I anticipate we’ll be landing on the island within the hour.”
His accent’s thick enough to cut with a knife, all guttural consonants and sibilant S’s and lavishly liquid R’s. And even though I pretty much knew where we’re headed, I feel sick to my stomach to hear my worst fears confirmed.
Panic scrabbles at my brain like a rat in a cage.
It’s all I can manage to stay on my feet, blade slanted before me, and not launch into some desperate attempt to cut my way out through the fuselage.
“I appreciate that you’re inevitably feeling a bit unbalanced, Zarina.” Fangs has the kind of tenor that slides against your skin like a silk sheet, crisp with that East European edge.
“It’s Zara, if you want me to answer.” Even to myself, I sound sulky. But after the night I just had, I’m gonna cut myself some slack. “Zarina sounds like some prima donna ballerina with a narcissist complex. That’s never been me.”
“It’s a queen’s name, and it’s your heritage. You should claim it with pride.” Something I can’t read ripples under the surface of that silky voice with its sharp edges. “It’s regrettable that our first encounter couldn’t have occurred under less fraught and… shall we say… exotic circumstances.”
“I, uh, didn’t mind the exotic part all that much.” I sneak a look at Ronin, who’s pouring a snifter of that fruity-smelling brandy for himself even though he’s still totally shirtless, and catch the hint of a grin lurking in the corner of his fuck-me mouth.
Before he catches me watching him and scowls.
Yeah, there’s a naughty Zara part of me that wouldn’t have minded seeing where the two of them took that seriously scorching hookup I just interrupted. Watching those two go at it, I was a little bit tempted to slide a hand under my miraculously reappearing panties and finger myself into a toe-curling orgasm.
To be honest, I’m still slick and achy from the visual.
But I need to get my shit together before we reach the freak academy. Although the exact location of the Icarus Academy is bespelled, it’s common lore in the witching world that it’s a private island with formidable protections off the Amalfi Coast in the Med.
I say it’s common knowledge because the witchy bastards pretty much blew their cover when they screwed up that fire spell and blew the top off Mt. Vesuvius back in Roman times.
I can be thankful my mom never had that kind of power, you know, given the way she lost it? Eighty-seven lives snuffed out in a blink—including Mom—is enough of a body count. My dad’s fixers covered it up by calling it a rogue lightning strike that triggered a gas explosion.
In fact, it was a mass murder.
A horror-show slaughter.
And Mom wasn’t the only one to blame.
Guilt twists my tummy in knots and regret makes my chest clench. God, I’d do anything to go back and change what went down that night.
But I don’t like the way Fangs is watching me. Like he’s reading secrets in my face I never want anyone to see.
“I know who he is.” I jerk my chin at Ronin, who bares his teeth at me like he’d like to rip my throat out. “Who the fuck are you?”
“But of course, where are my manners?” Fangs shrugs deftly into the tweed coat and buttons it around his taut waist, which somehow makes him no less savage but even more intimidating. “I’m Lucius Aries, headmaster of Villa Augustus, one of three residential colleges at the Icarus Academy. You’ll be joining my cohort. You’re starting mid-year, which isn’t optimal academically, to state it mildly. But, clearly, it can’t be helped. I intend to assign a proper tutor to bring you up to snuff—”
“Don’t bother. I won’t be sticking around long enough to need one.”
The shifter’s face tightens at the interruption, but he lets it slide. This time. “I’m afraid your education is no longer a matter of personal preference, Zarina. You’re the last purebred female of breeding age the four races possess—”
“Yeah, no, we’re not having this convo.” I extend the katana and point it at him for emphasis. Just to make sure I’ve got his full attention. “You already have a purebred Aquarius girl at the Academy with witchcraft and a functional uterus to do yourbreeding. I know because she’s the next queen, not to mention the fated mate of my dickwad brother. Which also means you already have a Gemini ass sitting in the chair in your freak Academy classroom, Fangs. That seat belongs to Damien. And he’s welcome to it.”
“Bollocks,” Ronin snarls. “She doesn’t know a bloody thing, Lucius. How in blazes d’you fancy this brilliant plan of yours is supposed to work?”
Lucius plants both hands on his desk, leans forward, and spaces his words well apart for emphasis. “We’ll. Instruct. Her. And I’ll appreciate your leaving the particulars of that instruction to me, Mr. Pendragon.”
