Page 93 of Starborn Husbands

“I told you. My human life.”

“Fuck. He was a lucky bastard—I assume he was a he?” I’ve never known Zhang to be with a woman.

“He was a he.”

I release my legs from around him, so they sink into the water. He’s still wearing his pants. His dick falls from my ass and flutters around in the water. “What was he like? Don’t say you liked him more than me. Fuck. Of course, you did. Tell me I’m husband number one, anyway.”

“You’re husband number one.”

“Well, now I feel like a consolation prize.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t earn it.”

“But you said?—”

“You’re not supposed to listen to me. Gods, Zhang. You need to stop with all this niceness stuff. I need a Head of House that’s not going to let me walk all over him.”

I get his frustrated growl. “You’re worse than a toddler sometimes. Do you really think I’m going to allow you to walk all over me?”

It’s true. I’m a lot to handle. He’d better keep up. I work on washing blood from my hands and face, while his dark eyes burn into me.

Quietly, he helps, scrubbing at the blood I can’t see on my forehead with his shirt and trickling water down my back by cupping handfuls, releasing it like a waterfall.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“For what?”

“I’m acting out because I’m jealous. I’m a horrible gremlin, and I know it. I bet he was the perfect match to your righteous disposition.”

“Actually, as a human, I was mostly rebellious.”

“Mostly?”

“It was the eighteen hundreds in another universe from ours. We began a home for runaways, which was highly illegal at the time.”

“That’s still do-gooding, Centaurus.”

“I shot someone in cold blood.”

“I’ll bet they deserved it ten times over.” I turn to face him. “I can be better.”

“Are you jealous of my Earth husband? I thought you were poly.”

“Not how it works, Zhang.”

He wraps his arms around me, and as much as I want to pry myself from them, I also don’t at all. I’m a walking fucking conundrum. If I can’t make sense of myself, then how is someone else supposed to? I’ll say the wrong thing and they’ll close themselves off from me and maybe be polite now and then, but we won’t attract each other. We won’t click.

What if Zhang gets to know me—really gets to know me beyond whatever he’s determined about me from following me around for hundreds of years—and stops being attracted to me? We’re married now and that’s forever, which makes it even worse. Merrick was a huge dick, but at least I knew for sure we had undeniable chemistry. Him being an asshole made him easier to get over. Him being an asshole allowed me to live guilt-free as a fucking brat.

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, as though he can feel I’m thrumming with anxiety. “Tell me about how it works.”

“When I know I’m important too—as important as Earth Husband—I won’t feel jealous anymore. I’ll even wish he were here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that. You have me on a pedestal. As soon as you figure out I’m not as shiny as you think I am, you’ll forget about me.” I sound pathetic. This is why I don’t have feelings.