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16

GEMINI

V eil pestered me all the way back across the harbor. I refused to answer any of her nagging questions until we were in the privacy of our own home, away from loose lips and prying eyes.

I have an insurmountable possessiveness smarting my chest; Veil being the long-lost seventh heir is quite the monumental secret to keep, and the urge to hide it from the other heirs—temporarily—is a primal need I can’t control. I can almost feel the influence of my dear god of trickery celebrating inside of me with gleeful pleasure.

Because for now?

Veil is my perfect little thieving secret.

“Gemini,” Veil groans out exasperatingly when we step into the living room. Her tone tickles my ear like the fizz of champagne up the nose.

Ever since we spoke to the Oracle, she’s been acting bolder. She claims not to know what any of it means, but there’s no denying that having been told she’s the seventh heir of Pravitia has certainly emboldened her.

It’s a delectable change I plan on cultivating for months to come.

“Patience, love,” I respond with the same exasperation.

With a tired sigh, I tug my shirt out of my leather pants, pulling it over my head. I fling it onto the couch before making my way to the patio doors, sliding one open. “I’m in the mood to stargaze.”

Veil stands listlessly in the middle of the room, staring at me. She’s still in her baby-doll dress, and I consider changing her into something more relaxed, but decide against it. I enjoy drinking in her tattooed skin far too much to cover it up. Ethereal stars, clouds, and suns paint her skin, as if she’d wished she were part of the cosmos instead of being tethered to earth.

She doesn’t move, so I signal her with a tilt of the head to follow me onto the terrace.

“It’s cold out,” she says weakly.

I stifle an eye roll. “I have heaters. Now come,” I bite out impatiently. “You want answers, don’t you?”

That does it.

My doll springs into action like a wind-up toy and quickly follows me outside.

Settling onto one of the couches facing the harbor, I reach for a small compartment in the table next to me while Veil perches herself on the edge of the love seat, facing me.

I pull out a metal cigarette case and the accompanying Zippo. Popping the case open, I take out one of the pre-rolled joints and slip it between my lips. With a strike of the Zippo on my thigh, a small flame bursts to life, and I light the joint with a deep inhale.

Veil silently watches me through it all, and I inconspicuously preen under her undivided attention. Pushing out a long billow of smoke into the inky night, I languidly stretch my body slightly sideways on the cushions, my free arm draped over the back of the couch.

My eyes slide to pin Veil with my steady gaze, and her shoulders straighten a fraction.

“I know nothing about your god.”

Those same shoulders drop, and I barely conceal the chuckle that escapes my lips.

“You said you had answers,” she mutters dejectedly.

“I know everything about being a servant to our gods, pet.” I take another long inhale, then reach over, offering her the joint. “Just not yours specifically.”

She eyes the joint like I’m handing her poison.

“I won’t kill you,” I say with a sneaky grin.

Her brown eyes flick up warily.

“Besides, I no longer can.” I give my hand a small twirl, still holding the joint between two fingers. “Divine law and all.”

Finally, she takes the joint out of my hand at the same speed as a snail running a marathon. She studies me as I lean back into the couch, a gentle buzz softly settling over my senses.

Her mouth wraps around the filter of the joint, her lips touching the same spot mine just did. The thought zips straight down to my cock. I drag my tongue over my teeth while she regards me, and my skin heats.

“Divine law?” she says after exhaling the smoke from her lungs.

I nod my head, taking the joint back. “Lesson number one, doll.” My gaze turns dark and conspiratorial, my smile just as clandestine. “You are no longer one of them ,” I say, waving vaguely toward the twinkling skyline of Pravitia. “We are our gods’ gift to this city. The only laws we abide by are those given to us directly from them.”

I expect my delivery to impress Veil, but her expression stays flat.

Tough crowd.

I take another drag of the joint and continue with a lot less flair this time, a tinge of vexation in my voice. “Heirs can’t kill one another. It’s how your family was exiled in the first place.”

She furrows her brows together, a small crease appearing between them. “ Damna … damnatio mem ? —”

“ Damnatio memoriae — correct. Or damnation of memory.” I lazily swipe my hand through the air, smoke curling around my fingers, idly rising skyward. “Wiped out of our history records and banished. It’s why I know nothing about your dear god of thievery.”

She stands up abruptly, like the chair is suddenly on fire, but quickly sits back down, smoothing out her dress.

I chuckle at her erratic behavior.

She eyes me distrustfully, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “How did you know it was the god of thievery then?”

Cunning little thing.

Before answering, I prop my elbow on the armrest and bring my foot up on the couch, resting my other arm loosely on my knee. “Power of deduction, love. And some very interesting context clues.”

The small drag of the joint she took seems to finally take effect, her body slowly relaxing as she rests her back against the love seat. But her burning curiosity still flares in her gaze. “Like what?” she asks.

I hum, tapping my finger, making a show of pretending to think. “Your compulsion , for one.”

“Petty theft?” she says almost mockingly.

“Indeed, love. Petty. Theft,” I answer, pointing a finger at her to accentuate my two last words.

She seems to be stumbling over more than one question at once.

I don’t bother waiting for her to land on one and continue, “I would surmise that although a mortal family is banished from the city, their subconscious need to please their god never ceases. As long as the god collects its tithe”—I stub the joint in the ashtray next to me—“well, the divine law does not displease them.”

I lean back into the couch and clasp my hands over my naked stomach while dropping my head backward. I gaze up at the stars, a blanket of cosmic orbs shimmering just for us, as I listen to Veil’s nervous breathing.

“It’s — it’s all too much,” she says weakly.

I almost startle when my heart skips with a small jolt of empathy for Veil.

My poor little lost doll.

“Tell me, Veil Vulturine,” I muse, my eyes still cast skyward, “why did you come here?”

“Here, as in Pravitia?”

“Here, as in Pravitia,” I repeat.

It takes her much longer to answer than expected, and I peek a glance her way. She appears to be deep in thought, almost like she’s connecting the dots herself.

“What is it?” I ask.

Her gaze finds mine, rosy lips parting on an answer, but then she closes her mouth, as if changing her mind.

“Lesson number two, pet,” I say with a bored lilt. “Our powers do not work on each other. It’s how I first suspected you might be one of us. Although …” I say, suddenly sidetracked. I peer at her with a cant of the head, brows furrowing. “You seem to be the exception to the rule.”

“How so?” she squeaks.

I fall silent, recalling the incident earlier at Pandaemonium. The one that led me to finally bring her before the Oracle.

I dismiss her question with a small flick of my fingers. There’s so much we haven’t discussed yet, but it can wait. “That’s for another day. As I was saying …” I declare somewhat theatrically, trying to get back to my initial thought. I pin her with my stare, but keep my body relaxed against the couch. “I might not be able to smell the lies and secrets on you, doll. But do not underestimate me. I have a plethora of ways to make you speak. Care to discover one of them?” I ask casually, flashing her an arrogant grin.

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head.

Good. She still fears me.

“I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I just … I don’t know how to explain any of it.” She crosses her arms and sighs. “To answer your question”—I don’t miss her petulant tone, and I resist the urge to laugh—“I was … I was called here. I don’t know how else to say it. And then after the Feast of Fools”—her voice gets quieter, and she starts to wring her hands together—“I — I tried to leave.” Her eyes turn glassy, as if trying not to cry. “But couldn’t — I physically couldn’t leave.”

I stare at her while digesting what she just said, a heavy silence rumbling between us.

Then I burst out laughing.

Veil reacts similarly to my earlier outburst. “Nothing about this is funny,” she bites out through clenched teeth and a tense jaw.

I jump up to my feet and offer her my hand. “Oh, but it is, love. But it is. And as soon as you accept that we are mere pawns for the gods to play with, I assure you, Veil Vulturine, you’ll find the humor in it too.”