Page 20 of Gemini Christmas
But I am sworn to secrecy.
Thanks to this Secret Santa tradition Zara and Neo both clamored for, our harem is thick with Christmas secrets.
My second cousin Mordred has spread himself over the bearskin rug to warm his bare webbed feet before the fire, where his burly sex demon frame takes up an unreasonable amount of space. Now, watching the byplay, he voices a throaty chuckle that brings his infernally appealing dimples into play.
Ash winks at him, then ducks back into the kitchen to conclude his domestic duties.
Still, my bride awaits my answer.
And she is never one to wait.
I sweep an arm wide to encompass the glittering miracle of the fat Yule tree, the row of stockings hung expectantly over the hearth, and the lavish swoop of holly and ivy festooning the rafters.
“Is now not the proper moment,” I ask, “to reveal all our Yuletide secrets?”
“Maybe so.” Zara turns to face me fully, tucking the ripe swell of her belly between us. Her warm turquoise eyes search my face. “And I can’t wait to find out what kinda Secret Santa gift you made me, for real.”
Then her pert nose wrinkles. “But that doesn’t mean you’d let Vasili, uh, call the shots in the sack. Which he definitely would, if he’s playing Krampus and reaming you. You know how he is.”
I do indeed know how he is.
And I know howsheis. I know how shewillbe if Vasili and I do not, in her words, “process our testosterone-fueled bullshit” in short order.
The lingering tension between Vasili Romanov and myself is the lone fly blundering in the ointment of our polycule’s happily ever after.
Gravely I study my bride. Zara is quite petite for a mortal, but my Unseelie kin are not a large-boned race. This means she is, very slightly, taller than I. My gaze roams her gorgeous face, creamy-skinned and glowing with the triple miracle of creation she shelters in her womb, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.
Yet she is frowning with worry.
For me.
“Zarina Selene Gemini,” I tell her softly, from the heart. “Truly, you are a goddess. You will make the most magnificent mother to all our children.”
A smile spreads over her face like a sunrise. Then her teeth sink into the pink bow of her lower lip. “Thanks for that, it means a lot. But we’re talking about you. You and V. And how you’re gonna manage to bend for him when you’re dommy as fuck, Zephyr.”
I wrap my arms around my queen’s waist, still narrow despite her ripening belly. As always, my heart swells with warmth and purpose to feel our offspring tucked protectively between us. What does it matter that none of this first fruit from her fertile womb is—genetically—mine?
My turn to sire an heir of my bloodline will come. She is committed. And I am patient.
I can wait.
“Are you so surprised I would yield the whip hand to another in our bed?” My quizzical gaze shifts from Zara’s wondering face to Vasili’s. The warlock tilts his head to assess my words, his pretty face sharp with suspicion. The dwindling fire behind him lights his hair in a crown of silver fire.
Just the sight of his tall lean silhouette, lurking before the fire like a nightmare, makes my chest clench and my balls tighten.
Without breaking his stare, I murmur, “Allowing this one to have his wicked way with me, this once, will be no great sacrifice. I assure you. Even if I am bound for his pleasure… I am far from helpless.”
“So trusting.” Vasili’s lips curl in a smirk that flashes a slip of fangs. “And what a lovely idea you’re giving me.”
Once upon a time, that snake’s malevolent hiss would have alarmed me. But no longer. Now I see him for what he is.
Just a man, as I am a man.
A man with hidden scars, still tender, that must be closely guarded from greater injury.
Without words, with my level stare and quiet stillness, I let him know I am not afraid.
The Christmas scents of bayberry and spruce mingle with the powerful vetiver of his mating scent. The air in this cottage is thick with the musk of pheromones, from him and all the shifters, and the tang of expectation from the rest of us.
