Page 91 of Starborn Husbands

I recall Zhang’s little TED talk when I asked him if he loved me. He wouldn’t say the words, but he said a whole bunch of shit that usually implies love. It was like “love in action” or some bullshit. Okay. Okay, fuck. Here goes.

“Zhang?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I know that I’m fucking glad you like to save my ass so much.” It’s not great. It needs a lot of work—Iknow—but no one’s good at shit when they first try something. I’ll keep working on it. The fact that I’m willing to make a fool out of myself trying should say it all even if I don’t get the rest of it right. I hope he's never expecting romance, though. I don’t do romance.

He glows and takes my hand. “C’mon. You hate this. Let’s go kill something to eat and bring it to our associates. Since they stayed, we can have another dinner with them.”

“Really? Fuck, yeah.”

* * *

Covered in the blood of what once held the life force of a prairie bear, Zhang sets the beast on the table outside, ready for us to butcher. We say a thank you for its life and the bountiful meals it’s about to provide us, and then get to work.

“I know where I learned to do this, but where did you learn to do this?” I ask. He’s way too proficient for a prince who’s had tasks that are considered menial, done for him all his life.

“My time as a human,” he says.

I watch his hands move. The technique is so similar to my father’s, which is who taught me, but he lacks finesse. “You’d be better off pressing your blade down and sawing through gently. You’re like a fucking brute with that poor hock.”

He laughs. “So, I’ve been told. I can’t seem to perfect it.”

“Probably because you don’t do it enough, Your Highness.” I make to stab at him with my filet knife, which is actually Atlanta’s, borrowed from his pack.

He swoops out of the way without thinking about it. I admire how hot his hands are, caked in layers of dried and fresh blood.

Just as we’re finishing, Gemini and Atlanta return. Gemini is twirling and dancing under Atlanta’s arm as Atlanta holds his up and continues to resemble granite. If you didn’t know Atlanta, you would think that he has zero interest in Gem with how flat his stare is.

I know him better than that. He’s analyzing Gem’s every step, making sure no harm comes to Gem while he isn’t paying attention so Gem can have that sort of freedom. Father does it with Dad all the time. Atlanta and Father are rare, nearly identical snowflakes.

Together, they breeze across an incandescent background of pink, purple, and blue richness. Phosphorescent green leaves sway as if to greet Gemini and flying nymphs streak wild gold dust across the air above them. It settles over them, making Atlanta’s dark guardian jacket look like a costume. He’s gonna be pissed. He fucking hates getting rained on by nymph glitter.

“We have guests, Lanta,” Gemini says. He’s been loving playing house. They need to ship off so they can start their family somewhere.

Atlanta attempts to shake the sparkle off him, scowling. I do my best to refrain from laughing at him.

“This is a goodbye party,” I say, wiping my hands together and then my brow. “It’s time for you two to go.”

“You’ve just smeared blood across your forehead,” Zhang informs me, his face frowning with annoyance.

“We can’t all be tidy massacre artists, dear husband.” I wipe my bloody hand on his cheek.

He grips my wrist and swats my ass. I laugh.

Atlanta stares as if he’s watching the dawn of the apocalypse. “What happened between you two? Oh right, you’ve been fucking. You have that sex-drunk euphoria about you.”

I set my death glare eyes to torch. “Maybe we’ve decided that since we’re married now, we should get along. Why does everything have to be about sex?”

“Yeah, I agree with Atlanta,” Gem says. Of course, he does. “You two went from murder to … whatever this is, too quickly.”

“Says the two relationship experts,” Zhang says very fucking sarcastically.

“Ha! Yeah. Good one, babe.” I hold my blood-soaked hand up for a high-five and he doesn’t disappoint me, slapping with his less-so-blood-stained hand.

“Anyway, we can’t leave. We heard about Merrick,” Atlanta says. “It’s one problem into the next with you.”

Oh yeah. That.