Page 23 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Stars

Aiken

Terrans weddings are torture. Pure, unnecessary torture.

Xavian promised me that if I was kind enough to give him a ride to the boutique and provide “moral support” while he tried on tuxes, he’d take me to my favorite brothel afterward. But we’ve been here since nine this morning, and it’s almost four in the afternoon. It’ll be a miracle if we get over there before dinner at the rate we’re going.

Gorcians don’t get married. Not in the way that Lunans and Terrans do. Of course, I’m happy for my best friend. We’ve had each other’s backs for years, and there’s no way I’m going to let him go through all this hassle by himself. But I don’t understand any of this crap, and no one has bothered to fill me in.

Probably because of the stereotype Gorcians throughout the universe suffer—that we’re just a bunch of dumb brutes only good for one thing: punching people into the dirt. And, yeah, while we may be good at that, it’s not like I’m an idiot, thanks. I can read. In my own language.

I pace the room, which is basically one big, beige oval. When I overheard the woman at the front desk talking to one of her colleagues, she said the paint color was “champagne,” which told me everything I needed to know about the shop. Pretentious and covered in satin, lace, and other inane fabrics. I let out a resigned grumble.

Xavian strides out of the dressing room in a dark tux. He grins from ear to ear as he rotates slowly. “Well? What do you think of this one?” he asks.

I look him up and down and blink. “It looks,” I grind out in Universal, “the same as the last one.”

My Universal language skills aren’t great. While most of the galaxy speaks at least five or six different languages, most Gorcians only really know … two, at most. I’m working on it, because it turns out that if you want to woo a Lunan woman, you should probably speak the same language. A year of studying later, and I’m proficient enough to please Margot during our late-night texting sessions. Good enough for me.

Xavian’s face screws up like I just insulted his mother. “What? No, it isn’t. This one is completely different. The last one was jet black. This one is charcoal.”

I narrow my eyes. “What’s the difference?”

“It’s—” Xavian sighs, then shakes his head. “Never mind. Listen, just tell me what you think. We need to hurry, because I’ve got dinner with Emmy later and I still need to make a couple of stops before that.”

All Terran and Lunan clothing looks stupid and uncomfortable and definitely not designed to survive plasma fire. You’d think that because Terrans and Lunans are so squishy, they’d want to wear armor. But no. They choose to walk around in thin pieces of cloth and then cry about it later, when they’re riddled with bullet holes.

“Looks good,” I mutter.

But Xavian doesn’t look impressed. It took me years to figure out Terran facial expressions. Their skin’s so stretchy and strange that, for a while, I couldn’t tell if someone was smiling because they were happy or because they had a knife sticking out of their ass. I had to learn the difference between a grimace and a grin real fast.

Xavian sighs and unbuttons the jacket. “Okay, maybe I’m overthinking this. She said her dress will be pink. That’s all she gave me to go on. But what shade of pink? Hot pink? Sunset pink? Rose pink?”

I stare at my best friend as he starts to melt down. When this happens, it’s best to stay impassive. Let the storm pass on its own. He shrugs off the tuxedo jacket and hangs it on the gilded rack one of the attendants left for him to use.

“Know what?” he says. “Maybe I’ll just give Margot a quick call. See what she thinks.”

My cocks immediately twitch at the mention of Margot, like I’ve got happy wagging dog tails in my pants. Suddenly, the idea of heading to the brothel doesn’t sound as fun anymore. As much as I appreciate the ladies of the Cosmic Wink, Margot is far more captivating. Not to mention infuriating. The girl’s got serious venom in her bite, and I’m shamelessly addicted to the sting.

I say nothing as Xavian pulls up his holodeck and swipes his hand through the hundreds of numbers he’s acquired since joining the Luna Lionfish. I used to be his only contact, save for a couple of our more regular bounty hunting clients. Now it’s a sea of names I don’t recognize. My blood warms at the sight, but I push the feeling down. Way, way down into the depths of my second stomach, where it will stay.

Jealousy is a wasted emotion, especially when it’s over a platonic male, not a mate. What am I even doing, getting agitated over my best friend having other connections? I should be happy for him. Terrans thrive in obnoxiously large social networks, whereas Gorcians are far more solitary creatures. We both knew he wouldn’t thrive with only me for company.

Margot picks up on the third ring, and her gorgeous face pops up onto the screen. Her hair is long now, and while I thought the bob suited her, I like this style better. It’s perfect for grabbing and twirling around my claws.

My cocks practically weep at the sight of her. I hate this woman. I hate the way she makes me feel, all horny and confused like a hatchling. I hate her more than my own nest mates, and that’s saying something, considering I ate them the second they emerged from their eggs.

“Hello, Xavian,” she says, her voice dripping with condescension, like someone pissed in her morning coffee. “What can I do for you?”

Xavian, to his credit, never lets this woman under his skin. He simply runs his fingers through his hair and flashes her a charming smile. The same one he gives the cameras.

“Hey, Margot. How’s my second favorite girl doing?” he asks.

I can’t help but roll my eyes and let out a chuff of disapproval before shuffling out of view of the holodeck.

“Don’t try to sweet talk me. We both know you only call me when you want or need something. So, which one is it?” she asks.

Xavian clutches his chest. “Margot, you wound me. All this time, and you still think the worst of me. Listen, can you give me just a little more info about Kal’s dress? I have some pics of the tuxedos to show you, but I’m not sure which one is best, and I need your input.”

Margot’s steely mask falters. This woman may not wear actual physical armor, but she definitely sends enough fuck-you energy out into the universe that no one would want to mess with her, anyway.

I loathe this woman. Just the sight of her makes my body run hotter than a damned star, and I want to peel off my carapace layer by agonizing layer just to get some relief. Damn, I need to bury my cocks deep inside of her and make her come so many times she can’t remember her own name.

“I would tell you, Xavian, but I can’t,” she says, then gives a half-hearted sigh. Some of her black hair falls in her eyes. I want to yank it by the roots while I plow her from behind, rutting against her backside while I dig my claws into her sweet, curvaceous ass. I drag my claws down my face and let out a moan.

Xavian casts a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder before looking back at Margot.

“Can’t, or won’t?” he asks, still cheerful as ever, but I can tell from the hitch in his throat that he’s getting impatient with her. And his patience for all things Margot is infinite, it seems. I don’t understand why he tolerates her as much as he does. The two almost came to blows on multiple occasions in the past over his mate, Kallista. Or, I guess it’s Emily now that she’s no longer performing.

Still crushed by that. I was hoping I’d get a chance to see her live again.

Margot sighs again and flicks her gaze to the left, like she’s looking at someone. Probably Emily. She’s in the room with her. “Can’t. Because your fiancée hasn’t chosen her dress yet. But she knows it’ll be pink. I’m sorry, Xav. Send me those pictures. I’ll take them with me to the boutique tomorrow.”

Xavian smiles. “Oh, that makes sense. Uh, thanks, Margot.”

The little snake is almost pleasant today. Hrm. I kind of want to ruin her good mood. Why this woman goads me so much, I’ll never know. Fuck me if I want to know, too. Whenever we see one another in person—which is rare, and we’re never alone—we want to claw each other’s eyes out. But then we also want to…

Fuck me, I can’t keep thinking about her like this. Especially not since our heated texting session the other night kept me up until four in the morning. She’s a bad habit I need to break.

I turn to leave, and Xavian clears his throat. “Yeah, I’ll send ’em over. Tell Emmy I’ll pick her up in two hours,” he says, then dismisses the call. “Hey, where are you going?”

I head for the doorway, fully intending to go home and masturbate until my dicks are raw. “Out,” I say, and slam the door behind me.