Page 29 of Gemini Hunted
“Why should I tend to the matter myself?” Deliberately, I shrug out of my kimono and let it fall. Fully naked and hard asfuck, I angle one hip and pose before him with a smirk. “You might as well make your radiant self useful… while you’re down there.”
Chapter Seven
Zara
Cheese on toast.
I’m more than aware—we’re all aware—of the unsettled state of play between Zephyr and Vasili.
My snake doesn’t trust easily (like,at all) and he’s always viewed Zephyr as a rival. The problem started with Ronin brooding over his Dark Fae ex and V getting jealous. When Zephyr ghosted me and the polycule for months to put down the insurrection (caused by Mordred, so you’re tracking) on Avalon—an explanation Zephyr never deigned to communicate until much later—Vasili’s native distrust of the Unseelie in my harem sharpened to acute aggression.
The fact that he and Zephyr have enough gigajoules of unconsummated sexual tension crackling between them to electrify this superyacht—just in case we lose both engines in the storm—only makes their prickly dynamic more complicated.
And that dynamic doesn’t even take into account the latest complication. Namely, that sex demon sporting V’s mating bite who’s bunked down in our guest room.
Obviously, Zephyr doesn’t know.
Clearly, we gotta tell him.
But just as clearly, now is not the time.
I’m still holding my breath over that inflammatory challenge the Goblin King threw down when Zephyr, very precisely, sets his wet boots aside. Still crouching in his form-fitting dragonscale like an Avenger on our designer carpet, he looks slowly over the naked warlock looming over him.
An arc of electric silence leaps between them. Potent enough to ignite the atmosphere in here like it’s pyrophoric.
As Lucius wrestles out of hisDownton AbbeyPJ’s, Ronin’s wary head pops up to check out the sitch. Peering over Lucius’ shoulder, Ronin’s topaz eyes are all smoldery with arousal, but he looks (understandably) concerned. Lucius, who’s at least half wolf by now, gives an irritable snarl over his other shoulder, eyes glowing red as embers.
“I vow, Vasili Nikolayevich Romanov. Is that an order thou art giving?” the Dark Fae King says softly into the humming silence. “One does not issue orders to a king.”
Shit.
It’s always a bad sign when Zephyr goes all ancient Fae formal. And it’s worse (like, an actual threat, given he’s also a warlock) when he uses someone’s full name.
Now the entire bedroom holds its breath.
Ronin tries to sit up. Lucius pins him flat (where he’s safe) with a wolfish growl of warning.
Slowly Zephyr sleeks back a spill of wet hair. His single eye narrows and his face kindles. “I do not abide beingordered. You may, however, extend an invitation.”
“Call it whatever you like.” Vasili’s nostrils flare wide in disdain. V sneers down at his rival in that obnoxious way that always makes me want to slap him. I know my snake is feeling uncertain about where he stands with me tonight, thanks to that whole Mordred mating bite situation.
Any hint of his own normal human vulnerability triggers V’s hidden fear of rejection.
That fear always brings out the absolute worst in Vasili.
But he hides his uncertainty by wrapping a hand around his long slim shaft, painted fingernails gleaming like black ink in the lamplight. He strokes his hard cock, base to head, in a slow pull that stokes the warmth pulsing between my thighs to a lick of fire.
I moan at the sight.
Helpless to resist, I rock my cunt, sheathed in damp lace, against the impressive bulge of Neo’s boner.
Neo cradles my hips between his strong hands to fit his thick dick against my slit. Holding me steady while I writhe in his lap, he twists around to watch the drama.
One look, and our bookworm huffs out an exasperated breath. “Gosh, V, that Fae is soaking wet. At least give the guy a chance to stop shivering before you start bullying him, will you?”
Vasili blinks and his gaze narrows.
My stare swerves abruptly from the electrifying visual of my masturbating alpha to the tensile figure of the Dark Fae King crouched warily at his feet. Under Zephyr’s sleek green armor, still dripping with rain, a slight but visible tremor ripples through his supple form.
