Page 84 of Gemini Wicked
I plant a warning palm between us to hold them all at bay.
“We only breed if it’s safe for a kid of ours. That’s a hard rule. And here’s another one.” My wary gaze follows the dangerous fault line in our cobbled-together polycule from Zephyr to Ronin to Vasili. Their tolerance for each other is brittle as shale. “We only take that plunge if we all agree.”
Chapter Sixteen
Maxim
I am late for class.
Again.
Because I am dragon, self-taught in the lair, I do not navigate the tedious schedules and rigid routines and repetitive rhythms of a traditional schoolroom very well. I am at the bottom of my class, always somehow running late, never quite where I am supposed to be, according to the wobbly dictates of the schedule I have copied carefully into my notebook in my awkward script.
As for my homework, it is a hopeless snarl of assignments I have overlooked and deadlines I have missed.
For all these reasons, my grades plunge Lucius into a quiet despair. For this, I am very sorry. My dragon and I both hate to disappoint him.
But today is different.
Today I am late for a different reason.
I am late because I have guarded my deliciously fertile and soon-to-be-breeding mate through her shower and her breakfast and her walk to school to ensure she is never alone and vulnerable to that rival male.
The Dark Fae King.
I can scarcely believe he is here.
Once I entrust my precious queen safely to Witching World History under Lucius’ protective eye, I race back to the domus to wash and don my detested uniform, which strangles my neck and makes my dragon chafe.
Finally, I gallop breathlessly back to campus to ensure I am waiting for my mate when the church bell rings at the end of first period.
In fact, I make such good time that I arrive well before the bell.
It is too bad this timing is not so good for me.
I slip into the classroom while Lucius’ back is turned and he is simultaneously lecturing and inscribing neat lines of text on the chalkboard. I tiptoe inside and creep toward the back row (where I can watch the door and Zara without any impedance) as though I am a mouse and not a dragon.
This is because Lucius does not tolerate lateness in his classroom.
The instant I breathe in a lungful of Zara’s alluring scent, I am lost.
By all the saints, I swear she is ovulating.
Ours she is ours we will pump her full of our dragon seed—
I veer toward the empty desk directly behind her. There, I can drink her in and savor her rich creamy spice and dream of tonight when I will fill her womb with my clutch. Saint Sergius guard me, my cock is already swelling behind my zipper. My barbs shoot out hopefully, already questing for her cunt.
Unfortunately, before I can sneak into my seat, Lucius’ wolf smells my arrival and pounces.
“If it isn’t the delinquent Mr. Rasputin.” My headmaster’s clipped tones bring me up short, midway down the sun-splashed aisle of the old-fashioned schoolroom with its high ceilings and worn floorboards. “How very good of you to join us.”
Ignoring the ugly snickers of the Villa Tiberius crowd (they are members of our rival residential college, the ones who threw stones at me and beat me when I first enrolled, they have always hated me), I drop into my seat behind Zara, order my mating barbs to retract until they are needed, and swing my scuffed backpack to the floor.
“I am sorry to be late,” I say meekly, once again, to Lucius’ stern face.
Zara glances back at me and rolls her turquoise eyes.
She did not want me to walk her to class like she is five (her exact words). But I would not be dislodged.