Page 34 of Gemini Christmas
Chapter Ten
Lucius
The light and heat of the rising sun bathe my sleeping face.
Still heavy with dreams, my lids flutter open. My wolf grumbles a drowsy protest, deep in my chest, over this unwelcome intrusion into our well-earned rest. Together, we squint into the sunbeams streaming through the bedroom window of the Christmas cottage.
Through a scrim of melting frost, the visible square of morning sky is coldly blue. The fluffy wedge of virgin snow piled on the sill is already starting to melt.
Clearly, the blizzard is over.
A sleepy murmur coaxes my gaze to the bed.
I’m lying on my side, face to face with a sleeping Zara. The sight of her vivid beauty—flushed and tender with dreams, soft lips parted and lashes resting against glowing skin—makes my wolf snarl with possessive satisfaction.
My mate’s wild mermaid hair spills in a riot of color over the pillow to frame her sultry Marilyn Monroe face and the lush fullness of her bare breasts. Her creamy curves are dappled with the rosy kisses of love bites from our recent exertions. Tiny silver rings still pierce her cherry-ripe nipples—for now. She’s planning to remove them before she gives birth.
I can barely wait to see her nursing our pups.
Wedged against the banked furnace of my shifter heat, she’s kicked off the sheets in her sleep.
Thankfully, despite the crisp morning air nipping our hides with our bedside fire burned to ashes, she doesn’t feel cold. Her round firm belly, taut as a drum, radiates heat between us.
In part, this is due to Vasili, who lies curled around her from behind like a glamorous shrimp, with his sleeping face turned into her hair. One black-nailed hand, sporting his silver skull ring, splays possessively over the swell of Zara’s belly. With his pale mane tousled in disheveled spikes around his head, mascara smudged around his lowered lids, and the bruise of a love bite smoldering on his neck, he’s the very image of punk-rock debauchery.
To complete the effect, a few long ribbons of Ronin’s inky hair spill over Vasili’s shoulder, from our still-sleeping mate tucked against his back.
Truly, our vain and haughty Vasili has never looked more disheveled.
Or more blissfully dead to the world.
The soft snorts of Vasili’s sleeping breath mingle with the heavier exhalations of Ash (who always sleeps with his mouth open) somewhere behind me, along with the rhythmic buzzsaw of Maxim’s unabashed snoring.
Still, I’m relieved beyond measure to find no sign of last night’s horned Krampus lingering this morning in our bed—
A tiny scraping sound snaps my gaze across the loft.
There I find Zephyr, stealthily easing open the bedroom door.
Already zipped into his Olympic ski suit with his eyepatch securely in place, the Dark Fae King looks uncharacteristically festive with Mordred’s crimson Santa hat perched jauntily on his evergreen hair.
Feeling my gaze with those keen senses he commands, Zephyr twists toward me and lifts a finger to his lips for silence.
I give him a cautious nod, but raise my brows in inquiry.
In reply, Zephyr dangles the SUV key and whispers, soft as breath, “Our vehicle waits without. I have Zara’s Secret Santa gift in the trunk.”
A rush of relief floods through me. Apparently this Christmas cottage has indeed returned us to where we started.
Just as Neo promised it would.
I don’t dare speak lest I waken our mates. But my sentiment must be obvious. Zephyr’s small feral smile slips into view, with a flash of pointy incisors, before he tiptoes out and eases the door closed in his wake.
The snick of the door latch is barely audible. Nonetheless, in a polycule of sharp-eared shifters, a mere decibel of sound is more than sufficient.
Half-buried in the teal spill of Zara’s hair, Vasili’s glacier-blue eye flashes open.
Hush,I warn Vasili hurriedly through our bond.You’ll wake our mates. After last night, they all need their rest.
