Page 60 of Gemini Hunted (Dark Witch Academy #5)

Neo

“Wow,” I say when I can finally breathe again, after finding the Vault door wide open, my cherished one finally safe and queen of the witching world inside, Mordred and Cleo both shifted and turned horribly to stone, and all the rest of our polycule (except Vasili) wrapped in each other’s arms and clustered together, glaring daggers of suspicion at V’s awful dad.

V’s clearly taken the lead on dealing with his dad, and he seems to feel he can’t be smothered in a group hug while he’s doing it.

However, V does keep a very possessive arm wrapped around Zara’s waist at all times, even while she’s shimmying back into the plaid schoolgirl skirt I’ve brought along for her.

“It’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Nikolai Romanov says calmly. “I’ll explain my rationale to the rest of you the way I’ve already explained it to my son.”

“Be sure to speak slowly, Le Chiffre, so those of us who aren’t in the spy business can understand.” Zara buttons her skirt and props a hand on her hip. My precious fated mate is completely naked under that skirt and V’s uniform jacket, which makes her eye-popping cleavage look amazing.

To his credit, I guess, Nikolai Romanov keeps his unreadable chocolate eyes on her face without peeking.

Somehow, he’s not even tempted by my fated mate’s incredible hotness. Despite the fact that he’s apparently straight.

It’s unnatural.

Honestly, I swear, the father is as bad as the son used to be. Nikolai Romanov must have an ice cube in his chest instead of a heart.

Maybe that’s a job requirement for being the AIB director.

“They were lovers before,” Nikolai says now, in a tone that sounds completely controlled, despite seeing all his twisty political machinations defeated and having his protégée turned to stone behind him. “They can be lovers again.”

“Vasili and Cleopatra were lovers?” Draco Mars tucks Mallory more tightly under his protective arm and stares at Vasili. “What the hel , Romanov? I thought you were supposed to be fokking gay.”

“Oh, please.” Vasili raises his eloquent eyes toward the peaked roof of the golden pyramid we’re standing in.

“Get with the program, darling, do . I happen to be bisexual. But that’s beside the point.

Zara is literally the only woman I’ve ever loved.

What’s more to the point is, she’s the only woman I ever will love.

Rest assured Cleo Ferrari appears nowhere on my sexual Christmas list. I’d rather get coal in my stocking. ”

“I wasn’t referring to my son.” Despite being a total enigma, Nikolai Romanov’s tone gives some things away. Right now, he’s straining for patience. “I’m referring to Cleopatra and Zarina. The two queens of the witching world.”

Now fully bipedal, still bare chested but buttoned back into Ronin’s leather pants (which make him look unbelievably hot), Lucius finishes tying back his hair and gives V’s dad one of his stern headmaster looks.

“In point of fact, Director Romanov, Zara Gemini is now the sole occupant of the witching world throne. Based on the weight of recent events, I fully expect Theo Mercury and the Arcane Senate to vote for Messalina’s immediate abdication. ”

“That’s right,” I chime in stoutly. “I just called Dad from the landline in Lucius’ office, that’s the whole reason I was late.

The entire Senate, even the anti-monarchists, ratified Zara’s claim as soon as they saw the Dean’s Challenge newsfeed.

No one’s doubting anymore that she’s the strongest witch and the best possible queen we can have. ”

Lucius gives me a nod of approval for my initiative that makes me warm all over. Especially my face.

Because, of course, I’m blushing.

“As for Ms. Ferrari,” Lucius tells Mr. Romanov, “there can be no such construct as two queens . There’s simply no precedent in witching world law or history.”

“Rest assured I’m well aware of the relevant provisions of witching world law and history, Master Aries,” V’s dad says, all crisp and crackly with annoyance.

I guess he doesn’t get contradicted very often.

“I’m referring to the fact that, just as a queen’s male consort acquires the title of king, a queen’s female consort—should she claim one—acquires the title of queen. ”

When I realize what he’s implying, I practically swallow my tongue. I literally have to cough before I can speak.

But there’s no airspace for me to even protest, because Max and Ronin and Zephyr are all objecting simultaneously in their various emphatic ways. While Vasili, who’s apparently heard this idea before, gives his awful dad the Romanov eyebrow and a smug I told you so smirk.

Racetrack and Dez both look appalled (even though they aren’t in the polycule and obviously don’t have any philosophical objection to the idea of Zara being with another girl).

Even Mallory’s mouth falls open as she stands, protectively bookended, between Jae and Draco.

Ash helpfully rubs my back to stop me from coughing, which is so comforting and nice. But his distaste for the proposed addition of Cleo to our polycule is stamped all over his craggy face.

“Oh, hell to the no.” Zara plants both hands on her curvy hips and stares Mr. Romanov down like the badass she is.

“That’s a hard no. Not only because I can never trust Cleo again after the way she betrayed me and lied to me and all the other shit she pulled, and then didn’t even have the integrity to take responsibility for.

But also—I don’t share my guys with other chicks. They’re my kings, not hers.”

Mr. Romanov frowns down his aristocratic nose (which is very like Vasili’s) at Zara. “That is a highly unreasonable attitude for a polyamorous queen to assume. Why should your males be confined to a single woman while you, despite being allegedly bisexual—”

“She is bisexual. But we do not want any other woman.” Max looms right over Mr. Romanov (who is not a large man) and scowls ferociously. “We only want Zara and each other. Stop interfering in matters you do not understand.”

“None of your bloody business who we fuck, is it, mate?” Ronin says heatedly.

Steely with resolve, Mr. Romanov says, “I beg to differ. Whom our queen chooses to mate is the entire witching world’s business and therefore mine—”

“Moment of truth, darlings. Behold the hidden motive for my father’s sudden swerve of heart,” V proclaims, all sharp and snaky with malice.

“As Zara continued to evade his clutches and close in on the prize in this Vault, he simply recalculated the odds—and realized those odds now favored Zara rather than Cleo for the throne. So he turned his coat.”

Every word Vasili utters drips with the venom of scorn. “Obviously, he grasps that he’ll never hold the same leverage over Zara that he wields over Messalina. So he’s hoping to retain his political influence by adding his naughty celebrity assassin-spy protégée— Cleo—to our harem.”

We all look accusingly at Mr. Romanov, who’s actually starting to perspire a little, even though it’s cool in the Vault. Now he definitely looks like Le Chiffre sweating through a poker game against James Bond.

I have to admit, I’m starting to see Zara’s point about the resemblance.

However, Mr. Romanov still looks more irritated at his son than worried about his own fate.

“Are you deliberately overlooking the obvious, Vasya, or can you truly be that obtuse? Because I would genuinely hate to believe the latter regarding any son of mine,” V’s dad raps out.

“My only heir is now the new queen’s dominant alpha and will shortly be crowned one of her kings.

With any luck, during that mating rut you’re obviously experiencing, you’ll sire the next queen—assuming you haven’t already.

Like it or not, the primary vehicle for my continued political influence is you . ”

V’s lips part on a gasp so his fangs peep out. Then his pretty eyes narrow dangerously. “If you actually believe I’ll lift a finger for your sake, papochka, you’ve clearly lost your mind. Have you forgotten I’m queer ?”

Mr. Romanov’s slender frame stiffens and his own eyes narrow right back.

“Whatever else you are, Vasya, you’re still my son.” His slippery voice goes rough. “The only son I have. Just as I’m your only father.”

Hearing those words of quasi-acceptance (or at least tolerance) we all thought he’d never hear from his homophobic father, V hisses in audible shock. Under the patina of crypt dust we’re all wearing, Vasili’s already pale face turns several shades paler.

If he was anyone other than Vasili, I’d be worried he might faint.

Mr. Romanov’s brow folds in a frown. He glides a step forward, but V’s casting hand flashes out in warning. Our alpha’s telekinesis sweeps his father violently a good six feet back.

So much for family reconciliation.

I guess the Romanovs don’t do that.

Before that snake Vasili can do anything worse to his awful parent, my cherished one steps decisively between them. She looks so completely fuckable in her little skirt and V’s blazer, with her teal curls swinging to her saucy ass, that I’m totally distracted.

Not to mention the way she’s flushed and scenting and sexed up in our mating bond.

“I feel like we’re getting off track here,” Zara announces in her queen voice. Her glittery finger rises to emphasize. “The first priority is busting Mordred free from that ossification curse. Period. That’s Number One.”

While Vasili regains his composure and Mr. Romanov straightens his clothing with an irritated tug, I give my wonderful fated mate my full attention.

Eyeing Mr. Romanov, Zara sighs and unfolds a second finger. “We gotta save Cleo too, I guess. That’s Number Two. Even though she definitely isn’t joining this harem, and that’s final. Besides, I think she’s got Milan Fashion Week coming up or something.”

“It’s Paris. She does Milan in September,” V’s dad mutters, showing a level of familiarity with Cleo’s celebrity supermodel schedule that I find interesting.