30. Veil
30
VEIL
M y heart is in my throat as I step up onto the stage, the crowd’s presence pushing heavily against me. I’m still shaky from Gemini’s visit backstage. Although I have to admit, it did help to loosen me up and unwind the knot in my stomach, where all my nerves had been locked up.
I’m still nervous, but the fear is nearly gone, and I loathe to admit that he’s the reason for the calming breaths I’m now drinking deep into my lungs.
As if his touch is the remedy to my woes.
Gods.
How could that ever be?
I give my head a small shake. This isn’t the time.
Concentrate.
My gaze sweeps over the spectators, and my attention snags on Gemini in the front row. One foot over his knee, his chin resting in his palm, he looks every bit the aristocrat with his black tailcoat suit and cane with a gold snake winding down the shaft. He even matched his gold satin shirt to my leotard. There’s a faint ring of dust on his knees, as if he deliberately kept the telltale signs of his debauched escapade for everyone to see.
He’s staring right back at me, the smirk on his lips widening as time passes. Before I step into the spotlight, my gaze flicks to his right. A cold shiver zips down my spine when I recognize Constantine Agonis from the maze hunt. Her glare is burning a hole through me with how strongly she’s staring, and I know then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Gemini has told her who I am.
The dread I’m expecting to hit at the realization never surfaces; instead, I feel recharged.
Have her see me.
Have her take in all of me.
Because I am Veil Vulturine and I belong here.
After a few quick, centering breaths, I begin my very first performance at Animus in front of a crowd of hundreds. Gemini has been advertising my new act for the past week, and I can feel the anticipation thrumming in the air. The elite rubbing elbows with the bourgeoisie; some are dressed to the nines while others are dressed in simple, casual clothes. All here to see me.
The trapeze becomes an extension of me, the music fast but moody as I lose myself in my well-rehearsed routine. I ride the high of such a feat, and it reminds me how much I used to love the stage. It reminds me of how free I felt when I performed back in Corutio.
Unknowingly, Gemini has given me exactly what I needed to remember myself.
Halfway into my act, my gaze lands back on Gemini. He’s still watching me, but his attention is split, his body leaned to the side as a man I don’t recognize whispers into his ear. He’s delicately placed his hand on Gemini’s thigh, and the jealousy suddenly coursing through my veins is all-consuming.
It burns until I myself am split in two. The one performing onstage and the one whose sole focus is on the man touching what is mine .
The music ends. The audience erupts in a cheer, and I pretend to take in the applause, smiling widely and bowing.
But my eyes are pinned on the man, now laughing at something Gemini said. But Gemini’s eyes are still locked on mine, and I feel like I’ve been dunked into boiling water. The man’s body is leaning forward, lanky fingers now trailing up and down Gemini’s arm. They appear intimate, like they’ve shared private laughs before.
I can barely breathe. I smell blood.
Knowing I can’t stand here any longer without the crowd starting to question my lingering presence, I exit the stage with a clenched jaw and a pounding heart.
I don’t bother retiring to my changing room. Instead, I charge through the backstage corridors and ignore the congratulatory yips from fellow circus performers.
My brain is on fire.
And only one thing will quell the burn.
Turning a corner, I finally spot them. Constantine is walking with her pink crutches in front of the duo. She spots me first and must see something she likes in my expression because her face lights up, her mouth open in excitement.
The corridor is crowded enough that I have to weave through a few bodies before reaching them. Gemini has followed my trajectory the entire time, a quiet grin on his lips, and a minute and rational part of me wonders if this was all on purpose.
But I don’t care.
“Beloved,” Gemini says when I appear before them like an enraged animal.
His casual tone only manages to pour gasoline on my already-raging fire, and I send him an icy glare before yanking his cane out of his grasp.
I’m half aware of people giving us a wide berth as I swing the stick backward before slamming it down on the man’s head with a loud crack. He didn’t see it coming, too busy making doe eyes at Gemini, and crumples to the floor.
When he goes down, I jump atop him. The sight of the first bloody split of his forehead is as satisfying as a warm bath. I hit him with the cane again and again as if I’d never tire of this kind of senseless violence. I break his nose and bloody his eye and lips before taking the stick with two hands and jamming the tip into his throat, crushing his windpipe. I feel the faint splatter of blood land on my burning cheeks.
Then I stop.
With the cane raised above my head while I straddle the wheezing, gurgling man.
I take in the spoils of my rage.
And I feel … nothing for him.
Only a vague satisfaction for exacting my revenge.
I begin to take in the sounds around me, as if slowly returning to my body. I can hear gleeful laughter, and somehow, I don’t need to look up to know it’s Constantine. I could never forget the sound of her laugh, even in a moment like this.
Then someone begins a slow, deliberate clap, and I lift my head to find it’s Gemini.
“There you are, Veil Vulturine,” he says, his eyes sparkling with pride as he tongues his cheek in victory.
My gaze flicks behind him, and I find Zazel staring at me with such disgust that I barely recognize them. Their face is devoid of familiarity, as if regarding a stranger. A stranger who just bludgeoned someone for the pettiest of reasons. We hold eye contact for a few loaded seconds before they turn and walk out of the backstage corridor, taking with them my old life and friends.
I should feel shame.
Remorse. Guilt.
Anything.
But the only emotion still wreaking havoc inside of me is the insatiable and undeniable need to publicly claim Gemini as mine.
I fling the cane to the ground with a clang and scramble off the now-unconscious man, throwing myself on Gemini.
He’s laughing when he catches me, his laughter bubbling and effervescent as he grabs me under my ass and lifts me with both hands. Turning us around, he pins me to the wall with my legs circling his waist.
I’m vaguely aware that a small crowd has formed, but Gemini addresses it immediately, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Everyone,” he says magnanimously, “please welcome the seventh heir of Pravitia.” I can feel him undo his pants as he continues, “And if anyone moves before I say so, I’ll have Constantine collect your blood in vials until you’re bone dry.”
I faintly hear Constantine let out a whoop before she giggles and claps, but nothing else matters right now, except for the way Gemini is looking at me. It’s devotion, in the most disturbing of forms, maniacal and unhinged. I crave it all.
Nothing else matters but our perverse show of connection.
Gemini harshly pulls my leotard to the side, and when I finally feel his cock thrust into me, I think I might be dying. I think I am reborn again and again.
His grin turns into a carnal snarl as he takes his free hand and grips my face, under my chin. He fucks me brutally, mercilessly, as he drags his thumb over my lips. Then he takes the same thumb, his eyes darkening, and smears my red lipstick over his lips.
His greedy actions have me spiraling into mindless arousal, and I catch his lips with mine. I need to taste him. I need to consume all of him and devour his life force into mine. Nothing feels like enough.
Empty attempts at trying to match the emotions exploding inside of me.
I need him beyond our two bodies fucking against this wall. I need more than just being witnessed by others like this. I need to become his entirely.
My soul is begging for it.
My fate demands it.
And none of it is frightening. It only beckons me closer. Faster.
Gemini breaks the kiss and stares into my eyes, his hips pounding into me, his cock filling me so perfectly. A bead of sweat follows the path of his scar over his eyebrow while strands of blond hair fall out of place. He’s a mess of perfection.
The small crowd around us is a blur when Gemini is my entire world. A vision of my exalted future.
“I would have chased fate since I took my first breath if I knew it was you I was chasing.” His words come out all in one breath, jaw clenched, as if he’s holding himself back.
His confession has my head falling backward onto the wall. His name is on my lips as my nails dig into his neck.
“I don’t want to run anymore,” I say breathlessly. “Keep me, Gemini. Keep me.”
Gemini groans into my neck, licking a path up my throat before tugging on my earlobe with his teeth. “I must be our gods’ favorite,” he says darkly, “to have won such a divine prize.”
He kisses me deeply, and my climax soars like a shooting star. I am devoured from the inside out. Metamorphosed into someone entirely new. Someone who recognizes Gemini on a molecular level. I turn into an addict. A greedy fool.
If there’s only one thing I can steal for the rest of my life, let it be Gemini Foley.
Gemini slams a fist into the wall next to me as he fucks me through the aftershock of my orgasm until he follows shortly after, pumping his cock hard and deep as his forehead presses into mine. Our mouths are open in ecstasy, quickened breaths mingling together as our fiery gaze burns and burns and burns.
Nothing else matters.
Nothing else exists.
But me.
And fate.
And Gemini.