35. Veil
35
VEIL
I ’m awakened by soft, distant music. I stretch my whole body before opening my eyes, finding myself alone in bed. The sun is out today after days of endless clouds and rainfall, and I smile as I peer out the window, content and at ease.
The realization of such peaceful feelings sends a warning to my rational brain just as I hear Gemini’s melodic hum approach the bedroom. I don’t have time to dwell on my shift in mood before he appears in the doorway, wearing nothing but a checkered kitchen apron.
His smile turns beaming when he finds me awake in bed, holding a tray out in front of him. A single flower—the color matching the lavender of his hair today—stands in a small vase among the array of breakfast foods.
“What a wonderful day to be the gods’ favorites,” he singsongs, strutting into the bedroom and delicately placing the tray over my lap. “For my beloved,” he says before kissing my cheek.
My heart squeezes with affection, and the same flash of warning flares inside of me. My smile drops as I stare at the steaming cup of tea on the tray, the vial with the contraception tonic that I’ve been taking daily sitting next to it.
“What just happened?” Gemini questions, standing by the bed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
My first reflex is to lie. He couldn’t tell if I did, but I decide to be truthful instead.
I lift my gaze to meet his. “I keep forgetting how this all started.”
It’s been half a week since I last visited the Oracle, and we’ve been attached at the hip ever since. I’ve performed a few times at Animus, but aside from those handful of trips to the city, we’ve been here, in this bizarre domestic bubble, and I suddenly itch to kill the illusion.
Gemini’s expression is serious. It’s only this stern when the topic of us comes up, as if speaking about the oddities of our … relationship is a direct offense to him.
“This?” he hisses.
Regret pulses as if alive inside of me. Maybe I should have said nothing instead, enjoyed this lovely breakfast and his devoted attention. But I can’t stop talking.
“Us,” I reply.
He sucks on his teeth before turning his back to me, as if needing to peer out the window. He’s completely naked under the apron, which makes this tense moment feel especially ridiculous. After a few loaded beats, he turns back to face me and sits down on the bed. I can’t help but think it’s an unconscious urge for us to appear more equal, and my heart pitches out of my chest at the small gesture.
“Why does it matter?” He scratches his head with irritation, the impatience unmistakable in his tone.
“You kidnapped me,” I reply, stunned. “Paraded me around on a leash.”
He rolls his eyes, as if I’m being difficult, and the pang of rage I feel leaves me breathless. Huffing a laugh, he asks, “This again?”
“This again ?” I repeat, my voice now an octave higher. “You speak as if this were lifetimes ago when, in fact, it’s been”—I make a rough calculation in my head—“a month!”
Saying it out loud consumes me with dread, considering how fast I myself have forgotten what those first two weeks felt like for me. The fear I experienced. It makes sitting here in bed—a breakfast tray over my lap, prepared by the same man who stole my autonomy—that much more dystopian.
He drags a palm over his face before pinning me with his glare. “Why are you so obsessed with time, doll?”
“Stop calling me that,” I spit, suddenly feeling sick.
His laugh is icy against my skin. “How feisty you are becoming.”
I cross my arms, my heart now beating wildly inside my chest as we stare at each other, and I can almost feel the strum of his corded muscles. The rising tension beating through him like a deadly melody.
“You were a monster to me not a few weeks ago,” I say, my voice now lowered and even.
His expression shutters, the muscles in his jaw feathering. The moment stretches into anxious anticipation as he stares at me, but says nothing.
Until …
“Still am,” he says coldly before flipping the tray off my lap. It flies through the air and crashes against the wall.
The sound of glass breaking shocks me, but I barely flinch as we continue to face each other down. Then he blinks and his expression changes. The aggression is gone. His gaze turns casual, and somehow, that is the thing that frightens me most.
“I haven’t changed, Veil Vulturine,” he says. Standing up, he makes a small show of dusting off his apron before pinning me with his mismatched eyes one last time. “It might be time for you to take accountability for your actions, little rabbit.” He drags his tongue over his bottom lip before adding, “You haven’t been my doll for weeks.”
He doesn’t give me the chance to reply before storming out of the bedroom, leaving me to stew in my own confusing thoughts.
A few hours later, Gemini hasn’t said a word to me unless absolutely necessary. He failed to accompany me into the mannequin room to pick my outfit, and I hated the sting just as much as his absence.
I chose a black dress with an open back and hoped my outfit would stir a few emotions, enough for his gaze to linger, but he’s kept his eyes averted all the way into Pravitia, and I’m beginning to feel off-kilter by his lack of attention.
The town car slowly comes to a stop in front of a high-rise near Mount Pravitia, and my heart flips when Gemini’s hard gaze finally lands on mine. With black eyeliner smudged under his waterline, he’s dressed casually in a mesh top and red jeans, but he’d look regal in any outfit.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice flat.
I hate everything about his tone, but I act unperturbed and nod. “Not my first tattoo,” I say dismissively.
He looks as though he wants to say something, but changes his mind at the last second and opens the car door instead. He offers his hand, and although I want to ignore it out of spite, I take it. Still, I wonder if he’s only escorting me out of the car because we are now in public.
Inside, the building is industrial. The corridor is big and drafty as we pass a number of locales that seem to be all kinds of different workshops. Eventually, Gemini stops and opens a door, waving me inside.
This space is like nothing I expected; it’s like stepping into another one of their VIP clubs—or I guess, mine now too. Art from a wide range of styles fills the walls, along with neon signs hanging here and there, most of them directly over tall mirrors. A tattoo station sits in the far corner, near the large windows.
But the decor is quickly forgotten when my gaze lands on the couches set up in the corner of the room.
“Vee-Vee!” Constantine chirps, sitting among the rest of the heirs, her leg still in a pink cast, looking like the happiest of the bunch.
Beside her, Aleksandr drags a hand over his mustache, as if already tired of her antics—but I don’t miss the way his leg presses into hers.
“Tinny,” I say, slightly stunned.
My eyes rove around the seating area, taking everyone in. Wolfgang is settled on the opposite couch, and Mercy is perched on the arm next to him, as if the couch were literally beneath her, while Belladonna sits on the opposite end.
“What are you doing here?”
I directed my question to Constantine, but it’s Wolfgang who answers me. “We know this is typically a private affair,” he says casually while adjusting his gold cufflinks, “but we thought this was a … unique situation.”
I sense Gemini move past me. He flops onto the couch beside Aleksandr, giving him a loud kiss on the cheek. I know it means nothing, but my face burst into flames nonetheless, and I see Constantine cock her head. Her gaze shifts from me to Gemini and then back again, and I want to strangle the words I see about to come out of her mouth.
“Oh! A lovers’ quarrel, I see?” she says.
I’m about to deny everything when someone appears seemingly out of nowhere. They’re dressed in a black shirt and jeans, and most of their visible skin is covered in tattoos, including their face.
“Veil?” they say, and relief washes over me, knowing the charged moment has passed.
I nod and smile, muttering a breathy yes, trying to shut out the rest of the group—especially Gemini.
“My name is Axil. I’m the tattoo artist,” they say with a toothy white smile, and I’m immediately put at ease.
Shaking hands, we exchange pleasantries, and I let out a relieved sigh as they wave me closer to their station so we can begin prepping for the session.
I’m an hour into my back tattoo. Lying flat on my stomach, I’ve brought my arms up to my head, cradling my face. Luckily, the hard scratch of the lining is a pain I’ve grown accustomed to. I focus on the sting, letting my mind wander to anywhere but here.
I was facing away from the seating area for the first half hour, but my neck grew sore, and I had no choice but to turn my head. Now I have two options—close my eyes and ignore what’s right in front of me, or avoid Gemini’s gaze.
I choose the latter for now, feeling unexpectedly grateful for the rest of the heirs so I watch them instead. By everyone’s body language, I can tell there’s an invisible current of boredom buzzing through the six. And it’s the first time I can take in their dynamics without the fear of being literally killed overriding my careful perusal.
They’ve gradually shifted seats. Wolfgang is now beside Aleksandr and Constantine. Belladonna hasn’t moved from her spot, and Mercy and Gemini are now keeping her company.
As I observe them, it has become clear that some don’t get along—the most glaring being Aleksandr and Belladonna. They haven’t exchanged a word. And judging by the way Belladonna eyes Gemini and Constantine, I don’t think there is any love lost there either.
When my gaze eventually lands back on Gemini, I find his eyes fixed on me. I have to force my body not to jolt and keep my face impassive, but my heart rate doubles, as if it were the very first time he’d ever looked at me with this level of intensity.
It’s not.
But something feels wholly different this time.
I swallow hard, but don’t look away. The pain from my back tattoo and the gravity of his stare slowly morph into one overwhelming sensation, and still, I don’t avert my gaze.
Gemini’s anger today is new. A different breed and pointedly directed at me. It’s as if he’s trying to convey something with his silence. I don’t know how long we stay like this, spending infinity conversing without speaking a single word.
I loathe to admit how much I’ve missed his attention, and it’s barely been a day.
What has he done to me?
To make me crave him in this manner?
My gaze is still fixed, but my mind begins to wander to our earlier spat.
“I haven’t changed, Veil Vulturine.”
I understood immediately what he meant, but even now, I have trouble accepting it.
That I’m the one who has changed.
Especially when I still feel like an outsider, looking in.
The question is, how much have I changed? Even thinking of it now, I find it hard to come up with a tangible answer when the change feels ever-lasting, always morphing, alive, sentient.
Then I feel it.
Like a soft caress against my skin. A slow, drifting wind. A summer breeze.
My expression must have shifted into something akin to alarm because Gemini is suddenly on his feet, eating the distance between us with quick strides until he’s kneeling near my head.
“What is it?” he whispers, as if today never happened, as if he didn’t just spend most of the day ignoring me.
But I sense the shift, too. This moment is much bigger than our petty squabble. We can revisit it later because having him by my side right now is far more important.
His gaze is seeking. Imploring.
“I think … I think I can feel my god’s presence,” I whisper slowly, not wanting anyone else to hear. “It’s almost tangible now like — like I could reach out and touch it.”
I glance at the couches, but no one is paying us any attention. It feels almost deliberate, as if they know this specific moment should be private, one shared between us and no one else. Of course, there’s Axil still tattooing my back, but they seem to know better than to interrupt or try to engage.
Gemini’s eyes glimmer with pride as he slides his hand over my arm and squeezes. “Just another tattoo,” he says with a wink.