Page 90 of Starborn Husbands
* * *
So far, being a prince? Not that exciting. My dick regains its freedom—that part’s nice—but after that, it’s all boring shit like meetings with his father.
“I told you, we’ve been given time off,” Zhang says for the third time.
“To do what? Walk hand in hand through the gardens?”
“Maybe.”
“Boring.” I don’t like or need time off. Who wants time off when everything, everywhere is constantly under threat? Life has been overruled with Treyu drama, but now that it’s done and over with, we should return to protecting the galaxy. “I still think we should run away with our associates.”
He looks everywhere except for at me. It dawns on me because I’m smarter than I look.
“You can’t become an angel that way.”
“I can’t. I have to serve the Nebuli, and I don’t have the luxury of dictating how I do that. But in the future, I could give my permission for you to take ‘extended vacations’. We could build your reputation as a pampered prince so it will look normal. Gem can pick you up and bring you back.”
But he wouldn’t be able to go with me. I don’t like that. “Please. How long would I last without you there to save my ass? That’s just a bad idea.”
He pauses his stride to stare at me. Then his hands are tugging his red hair by the roots. “Shit, Treyu. I’m sorry. This is such a fucking disaster, but you can’t go if I can’t. I’ll find a way for us to go away at some point.”
We’re away from people and thus—by our own design—free of the strict protocol. I have my own standards I plan on maintaining, I like protocol as much as I like being forced to follow it, but point is, I can level with him.
“Why is that making you want to pull your hair from its roots?”
“Because you already have so many restrictions. You’ve had your life ripped from you. I’m trying to give you what I can.” He huffs. “This one is selfish. I’ll go crazy if I’m worried about you, and I know you’re insulted by that, but it doesn’t change that?—”
“That you think you’re the only one who can protect me properly?” I raise an imperious brow.
He gives up trying to sugar-coat the truth. “Yes.”
“You know? That’s kinda fucking sweet, babe.”
“You think so?”
“You know what I’m like. Double standards galore. I’d gut anyone else who tried to protect me like you do.”
“So would I.”
We’re still paused in the middle of the damn gardens by ourselves. “Wait, am I allowed to do prince shit with you?”
He smiles. “Yes.”
“You’re the conduit between the guardians and the Royal family.”
He nods. “I am.”
Which he already thought about if his smug expression is anything to go by. “And you even let me figure that out for myself because you know how much I love figuring stuff out.”
Another nod.
I glow on the inside again. Fuck. Why am I not falling madly in love with my husband? I think I’ve graduated to being “in like” with him, but I can’t fall.
There’s fucking irony for you.
I’m haunted by the true words he said the other night that I hated. No matter where we live in the galaxy, we all claim to want the truth, but we get offended and soured by it. We hate the person for saying true things because then we can’t hide from them. I also know that I’d be fucking stupid not to try Zhang’s advice. As much as he knows me, I know him. The man doesn’t say anything lightly.
But how would I even go about creating a new story for myself? It still sounds fucking stupid to me. If things were that easy, wouldn’t we all do it? If someone doesn’t know how to fall in love, how are they supposed to create a narrative for that?
