Page 154 of Starborn Husbands

“You two had better not get wing oil on my nice sheets,” Zhang says, strutting toward his closet, undoing his long jacket as he goes.

Merrick glares after him, mimicking him when Zhang’s back is turned. I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. Zhang will think we’re ganging up on him, and for once I’d like to stay on his good side.

“Spoiler,” I whisper. “We get wing oil on his sheets. That’s inevitable unless we go into the bath?”

“I’m not moving. Walking into this place used the rest of my energy.”

Rubbing the slippery liquid between my palms, I smoothe it over the highest arch of his left wing. The dry feathers are brittle beneath my fingers, but the oil seeps in, rejuvenating them. Merrick moans.

“Feel good?”

“So good. It’s like hydrating itchy and irritated skin.”

“How would you know the difference? Don’t angels have perfect skin all the time?”

“Not if you catch Garrison thrush. It gets everywhere, and I meaneverywhere.”

“Ew! I don’t want to hear about your flakey dick, Merrick.”

He laughs, but then his eyes fill with hunger. No wonder he’s in so much pain, all his blood’s in his cock. A body-wide shiver prickles my skin. This wing oil thing is too damn intimate. I might as well be rubbing this stuff into his ass.

“I think it’s time for me to take this jacket off,” he says, using what little angel juice he has to remove it. Merrick’s always dressed for war, and he’s outfitted in tight black everything underneath.

Zhang saunters out of the closet, changed into something less battle ready, his fancy prince jacket. He usually only wears that when meeting with his father, and even then, only sometimes.

I climb off the bed, my hands greasy with wing oil. Is he leaving? That’s not fucking fair. We go everywhere together—or so I thought.

“Babe?”

Zhang slides his hands into his pockets, while my hands drip oil onto the carpet. “I’m just going to speak with my father. He wants reports. You hate this stuff,” he reminds me.

I nod. “I do, but you’d better fucking kiss me before you leave, Centaurus.”

“Keep your oily hands away from my clothes,” he says as he tugs me in by the lapels of my jacket and gives me what I want. His warm lips still taste like the coffee he drank at Orion house. “I’ll be gone for a bit.”

His gaze flicks to Merrick. Is he suggesting we…? No, I’m imagining that. “Hurry back. We have shit to figure out. I’m barely holding it together, babe.”

My oily hand swings of its own volition—I swear—intent on his ass. He should have my handprint somewhere people can see it. A strong hand circles my wrist, stopping it in its tracks. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Good,” I breathe out. I stare at the damn door after he’s left, my heart pounding madly.

I turn to Merrick, ready to get back to my wing oiling. He’s watching me like he’s never seen me before. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“You love him.”

“I think you mean care. I care about him. Of course, I?—”

“No, I mean love.” He tries to stand and winces in pain.

I return to him and lay my oil-soaked hands on his wings to soothe him. I hate seeing him in this much pain. It’s got to be near-to-unbearable if it’s crippling him.

“That’s okay, I know you love me too. I can handle being lovedtoo,” he says in a quiet voice.

Collecting more of the sweet-scented oil, I warm it between my palms as I lay a dark scowl on him.

“I love yous work the other way around. I tellyouif I’m in love with either of you.” But it’s got me thinking because he said the opposite last we saw each other.