Page 36 of Not All Himbos Wear Capes
“Xander?” my mother interrupted, shooting a quick glance at my father before returning her gaze to me. “What is his last name?”
Why? So you can decide if his family is worthy of ours?
“Marin,” I replied, dredging up the name the hostess had used to confirm our reservation at Ars and Invenio. “You won’t know him. He’s a normie I met on a dating app.”
“Is that right?” My father snatched my phone and began scrolling, presumably through Xander’s messages. Since I didn’t have a death wish, I gritted my teeth and endured him invading my privacy. “And he believes you’re a normie too?”
“Yes,” I rasped, my entire body buzzing with thecravingto hear Xander’s voice. “We have something special and I want… Can I please just have this one thing? I’ll defend Big City until my dying day, but I don’t want to be randomly married off to another supe like some sort of…breeding stud.”
My father barked a laugh. “But that’s what you are, son. It’s thanks to the impeccable breeding of the Holt-Arella lineyouwere created. It’s the reason lesser supe families will make all manner of deals for the chance of their offspring reproducing with ours.”
I don’t want any of this!
“Gemstonia Lincoln is the closest we could find to a worthy match, darling,” my mother cut in, awkwardly rubbing my arm in a sorry attempt at comfort. “So you’ll just have to give it another try—”
“I can’t,” I choked out as my vision went spotty again. “Please. Everything hurts… I-Ineedto talk to him, please…” I shook off her hand as I doubled over in pain, uncaring if I appeared weak. Anything that wasn’tXander felt like knives on my skin—leaving gaping wounds behind where only he should be.
Is this what dying feels like?
My mother hissed in a breath and looked at my father in alarm. “Give him the phone, Harold. Then we need to talk.”
With a scoff, my father tossed my phone on the bed before stalking out of the room, with my mother close behind him. Despite the rational side of my brain telling me to follow and insert myself into whatever conversation they were about to have, I pounced on the device like a starving man.
Xander answered on the first ring. “Butch?! Holy fuck, were you downtown when Masculine battled Penetrate? It was all over the news. You weren’t hurt, were you?”
The acute pain ricocheting through my system instantly vanished at the sound of his voice. With a sigh of relief, I collapsed back against the pillows, wishing I had teleportation powers so I could instantly be with him. I would’ve done it in a heartbeat, even though my identity as a supe would then be compromised.
Xander would want me either way, right?
“Talk to me, baby. Tell me you’re okay.” His tone had evened out, but I sensed he was forcing his calm for my sake.
I’dneverfelt that wrecked after a fight before, but I didn’t have the energy to think about what it could mean right now. If I couldn’t be with Xander tonight—and I knew my parents would make me stay—then I was going to listen to his sexy as sin voice on the line until I fell asleep again.
He could read me the dictionary and I’d hang on every word.
“I’m okay,” I replied, finally able tobreatheagain. “Everything’s gonna be okay now that I have you.”
CHAPTER17
XANDER
Two nights without Butch in my bed and I’d turned into a fucking menace to society.
More than usual, that is.
His family was forcing him to stay inland with them for a few days, and it was all I could do to not demand he hand over the address so I could stage a jailbreak.
As soon as he’s back, I’m putting a tracker on his phone.
I assumed his absence had something to do with Captain Masculine and Agent Penetrate leveling an entire city block on Sunday. Butch insisted he hadn’t been anywhere near the action, but I suspected he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. Then, I reminded myself hecouldn’ttell me, because of his job working for the puppet master of Big City’s corruption.
With a frustrated snarl, I stomped into the shabby elevator and slammed my hand against the 53rd-floor button with more force than was necessary. It had taken everything in me not to cancel today's therapy appointment with Dr. Ownit, but I’d dragged myself here.
Like a goddamnadult.
Stepping out onto the ratty hallway carpet, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to check in with my mental state. It wasn’t as if I’d never come here in a bad mood before, but usually, it was because my mother or siblings had brought me their bullshit. Or the human race had annoyed me in general.
This feels different.
