“I hate you.” Casimir rubbed his temples as Koa’s mouth quivered.
“Imagine sinking your fangs in and happily sucking away whenBAM!Half a cherry blocks the pipeline,” Zane went on, clearly enjoying himself. “Only in this case, it’s a blood clot. Stuck in your fang. Instant migraine.”
Koa lost it. He doubled over, shoulders shaking with silent laughter that quickly evolved into full-blown howls.
“Why would you joke about something painful?” I stared at Zane in wide-eyed horror, my brain conjuring images I desperately wished I could unsee.
Casimir sighed deeply, the sound of a man who had endured this conversationfartoo many times.
“He said it at court, Seri!” Koa managed between gasps of laughter, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Wow. I said words. Truly, my crimes are heinous!” Zane examined his nails with feigned boredom.
“You said ‘cruor’ in front of the elders, you cretin!” Casimir snapped. “The most sacrilegious term in their lexicon, and you threw it out like a casual ‘fuck you.’”
“Okay, wait.” I held up one hand. “I can see how a blood clot wouldn’t be fun, but I don’t understand how it’s sacrilegious. I mean, you guys say it all the time. ‘Blood clot, I’m starving.’ ‘Blood clot, you’re gorgeous.’ ‘Blood clot, shut up.’ ‘Blood clot, this is fun.’ What’s wrong with that?”
As Zane snickered and Koa laughed helplessly, Casimir resumed lecturing.
“In historical context, the original phrase stems fromvirgineus cruor, means ‘by the virgin’s blood’ and—”
“Thevirgin? As in the Virgin Mary? As in the Holy Mother of Jesus?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Time has obscured the root of the expression, but I doubt it refers to that. Vampires and Holyanythingdon’t go together. It most likely refers to the ancient belief that a virgin’s blood is the purest. A sort of Holy Grail, if you will. Among younger vampires, cruor is now only a crude expletive, but among the elders—”
“It’s blasphemy,” Koa choked out.
“What?” My brain stuttered.
“You should’ve seen their faces.” Zane’s smirk committed some kind of sin, I was sure of it. “Like someone pissed in their morning bloodshake.”
A horrible thought dawned on me.
“Okay, so to make sure I’m understanding this, when you say cruor, it’s like you’re saying, ‘Jesus Christ,’ correct? Only it’sVampireJesus Christ?”
“No, Zane, don’t—” Casimir warned, but it was too late.
“Vampire. Jesus. Christ.” Zane’s smirk turned demonic.
Before I could blink, Casimir lunged, tackling Zane with enough force to send them both crashing to the floor. Papers went flying, a chair toppled over, and suddenly my two husbands were wrestling like overgrown kids, a tangle of limbs and curses.
“Should we stop them?” I asked Koa, who had collapsed against the wall, tears streaming down his face.
“No,” he howled, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. “It’s…hahaha…therapeutic…hahaha…for them.”
I looked at the wrestling match again. Zane was laughing even as Casimir pinned him to the floor with a knee in his chest.
“Simmy, don’t hurt my Zoodle. I kind of like him alive, even if he does have the worst analogies in history.”
Casimir froze, his head swiveling toward me. His eyes softened, although his grip on Zane didn’t loosen.
“See? She likes me,” Zane crowed from beneath him, cackles punctuating his words. “I’m herZoooooodle!”
“I will end you, firecrotch!”
“Simmy?” I tried again. “Please?”
With a deep, put-upon sigh, he released Zane and stood, dusting himself off with exaggerated dignity. His blond hair had partially escaped its neat ponytail, giving him a disheveled appearance that was both endearing and slightly alarming.
