Page 57 of Starborn Husbands
Whatever was in there is fast-acting. It doesn’t make the pain disappear like the other drug did, but I’m numbed to the point of comfort. “I’m sorry, okay?” That might have hurt more than my body does. “I’m not being nice, but you should know that I’m not nice.”
“I know who you are, Treyu. How was your book?”
I smile. “So good. Is it weird that I’m calmed almost as much by spanking in a book as I am in real life? There you go, all you need to do is become an author and write about the punishments I’ve earned. You know I’ll read the hell out of it, and I’ll totally learn my lesson.”
“Nice try.”
It’s getting dark and it’s almost time for real bed versus the naps I’ve been taking all day. “So, uh, where are you going to sleep?”
There’s only one bed. I might be about to live the “only one bed” trope, only, I know what happens at the end of every one of those books. The couple falls in love.
It’ll never happen with us.
“It’s a big bed. I thought I could slip in next to you. Nothing will happen. You have my word.”
I laugh. “I know you won’t try anything. You’ve waited hundreds of years to fuck your eventual husband. That’s Herculean-level restraint. I’m the heathen. I might try something.”
Both brows raise. “I’m bigger and stronger than you. I’m not worried.”
Of course, he’d rub that in. He assumes my twisted expression means something else.
“Do you really not want me that close? I thought about going to another room—there are plenty—but this place is a gossip mill. No one expects us to be madly in love, in fact, there are bets around the kingdom as to who will kill who first, but we have to at least pretend to get along.”
“No. I don’t mind if you sleep next to me. I have zero doubts that you’ll be the perfect gentleman.” I’m afraid of that actually. Sex is going to suck for the next year if he’s all gentle and polite. I am not—as humans call it—vanilla.
I’m already fading again, but this time, I think it’s just my body trying to heal itself. I’m half asleep when he creeps into the other side. My skin tingles when he brushes the hair off my face.
“I protect what’s mine, Treyu. I won’t let this happen again.”
He thinks I’m asleep.
He presses a kiss to my brow and this time I’m sure he’s done it. Sex computes in my brain more readily than sweetness does. I’ve had plenty of meaningless sex. I look forward to Zhang’s (probably) huge dick, railing me. I figured we were on the same page there—I know my worth.
But tenderness?
Okay, maybe I have to stop making him feel bad about everything. He’s more than made up for it in my books. I’ll tell him tomorrow.
* * *
There’s warmth and glow and drool.Gross!No one mentions drool in sexy “sharing one-bed” trope books, with good reason. It’s way unsexy. Unfortunately, it’s coming from me and pools onto his way-too-conservative nightshirt. But like in every “sharing-one-bed” trope book, we’ve magically ended up in each other’s arms like magnets at some undisclosed time during the night. The legends are true.
He’s glowing, though. He must be having a good dream. I’m going to ignore that I’ve woken in his arms, and slide far away from him. Also, I’m going to blame the drool on a leak in the ceiling. I move, but he tightens his star-level grip on me.
Perfect. I’m stuck. I could wake him up, but dammit, I can’t bring myself to do it. Might as well enjoy my time here. I lie on his massive chest and listen. Zhang’s heart is as big as he is. It’s why I hate him so much. He’s everything I never want to be. Purity incarnate.
It’s dangerous to be too pure. Darkness is necessary for survival. Royals have the luxury of being pure and nice. Guardians know what it takes to survive.
But I don’t …Gods… I don’t want my darkness to seep into him. People like me ruin people like Zhang. It’s fucked up, but it’s true.
For one second—just one—I imagine this as my new reality. Waking up like this. Meaning something to him.
I can tell he’s woken up, but instead of jumping away from him I ask, “So how do I kill you?”
“Hmmm?” His eyes are closed.
He doesn’t seem in a hurry to have me gone from his arms, so I toy with the hem of his shirt. In fairness, I warned him. “The gossip mill. They think I’m going to kill you. How do I do it according to them?”
“No. They have bets on who will kill who first and secondary to that, how. I could kill you first.”
