Page 15 of Gemini Christmas
I’m totally used to having Ash poultice my bruises. Ronin has been teaching me to fight the exact same way he does, hand to hand, so I can defend myself and our family if I ever need to. And it’s Ash who always patches me up.
So it’s relaxing and soothing and familiar for all of us, I mean him taking care of me like this.
Ash mutters under his breath to Ronin, sending our guy off to the kitchen to start the teakettle boiling. Ash wants him to brew some Seelie willow tea, which is another part of our ritual. From the kitchen, the energetic clatter of pots and thevigorous scrape of ladles against serving dishes—interspersed with Lucius’ instructive murmur—creates a homey-sounding racket.
Despite our whole predicament with this gatekeeper’s cottage, I’m starting to feel safe and cared-for and drowsy. My eyelids are getting heavy, but I know Ash doesn’t want me to sleep yet.
That’s when Mordred tromps over, heavy boots thudding on the floorboards.
“Bookworm’s right on. About this pad, I mean,” he announces. “Door won’t open. Or the windows. I tried all of ‘em, just for kicks. Guess I could still try the chimney, ho ho ho.”
“That would certainly be fitting, since you’re still wearing that ridiculous Santa suit.” That’s Vasili just being Vasili, no worse than usual. “I suppose you’re unable to apparate?”
“Nope. Tried that first thing. Can’t even summon my trident through these wards. And before you ask—there ain’t a phone neither.” Totally unfazed by V’s whole vibe, Mordred peels out of his Santa coat. Not because V’s making fun of him, but because it’s toasty warm by the fire. Underneath, our demon is wearing a black tee shirt that clings to his brawny chest and thick biceps.
Oh, man.
The snug cut shows off the sleeve of indigo scales tattooed down his dominant arm. With his bronze skin and mischievous dimples and the wild bedhead tangle of midnight-blue curls spilling down his back, that sex demon looks lickable.
Especially when he drops to sit cross-legged on the bearskin rug and starts tugging off his boots. Mordred’s tentacles are banished for now, but his feet are still webbed and he prefers to go barefoot whenever he can.
Zara eyes his visual impact with appreciation, then wiggles out of her own parka. “Cheese on toast. The juju on this joint must be wicked potent to hold a demon. Guess we’re notgoing anywhere right away, at least. Not till we’ve gotten some Christmas wishes.”
Judging by the warmth rising in her cheeks and simmering through our bond, not to mention the tiny purple sparks crackling in her teal ponytail like static, my cherished one has a specific Mordred-related Christmas wish in mind. These days, she’s pretty hormonal. Which, when you’re Zara Gemini and having a super-active royal sex life is good for the whole witching world, means she’s horny.
Pretty much continuously.
We’ve all been enjoying this added perk of the pregnancy, for sure.
Vasili’s glacier-blue eyes glitter at our sexed-up queen and our resident incubus, who’s actually sexing up this whole cottage without even trying. When V’s snaky gaze shifts to me, I give him a loopy grin. He’s one of my alphas too, so I give our bond a friendly tug.
Know what you’re thinking, V. Zara’s gonna be sitting on Santa’s lap tonight, isn’t she?
His glossy lips curl in a smirk.Darling, Santa isn’t the only one who gives presents at Christmas. Your resident Krampus has a starring role. And I know just who’s been naughty enough to need a hard fuck, First Boy.
Wow.
Now I’m the one who’s blushing.
V smirks at my blush, then slithers out of his David Bowie punk rock overcoat and bends his tall body to peer through the frosty window into the night. “Surely Senator Mercury will send out a search party to find his missing son—not to mention his missing queen—when we don’t turn up at the chalet.”
I sit up carefully, clutching my poultice so I don’t disturb Ash’s good work, which is gradually easing the ache in my head.“Oh, he definitely will. Dad’ll find the SUV for sure. It’s just that he won’t find us. Because the house will have moved by then.”
Everyone’s still absorbing the concept of the house moving on its own when Zephyr scrambles lithely down the stairs from the loft.
I’m relieved to see he’s finally sheathed his swords.
“I’ve kindled a fire in the bedroom,” the Dark Fae King announces. Behind the slash of his eyepatch, his single jade-green eye smolders at Zara and Ash and me. “To prepare for later. Until Ash is certain about his patient’s health, our sweet boy Neo should not sleep. So we must be certain to keep him… well occupied.”
V pivots slowly from the window to eye his nemesis. We all hold our breath and wait for V to say something awful.
But Vasili limits himself to giving Zephyr the lifted Romanov eyebrow and a graceful shrug. “Well, Your Radiance, at least we agree about that much.”
Moving slowly and never breaking Vasili’s basilisk stare the whole time, Zephyr unstraps the X-shaped harness from his back and props his swords against the wall. The way he disarms, it’s slow as a striptease, and every bit as provocative.
Especially when Zephyr’s hand drifts to the zipper of his form-fitting Olympic ski suit and drags it slowly down his chest. He’s wearing clothes underneath (of course). But the way that compression shirt clings to his knotted muscles—honed and hard from reining a willful three-ton dragon—starts my heart hammering.
Actually, watching the way Zephyr is moving right now, while he and Vasili eye-fuck each other with all the smoldery hate-fuck feels, makes my whole body tingle like Zara’s summoning lightning.
