Chapter 2
Chapter Two
HOPE
Since arriving in Harmony Glen several days ago, I’ve seen so many monsters of all shapes and sizes.
The first day I was exploring downtown, a lion man walked by with what looked like a baby dragon.
It was very difficult not to stare, but if he noticed, he didn’t seem bothered.
Neither did the blue-skinned man who appeared ready to stop and talk as if we’re friends when I said hello in passing.
And that was just the first afternoon. Everyone I’ve met has been welcoming, if not honest-to-goodness delightful.
Like I told Ogram, my hometown didn’t embrace multispecies integration after the Great Revelation, when all the nonhuman species came out of hiding.
They didn’t actually ban monsters from my town, but as soon as the first business hung a “Humans Only” sign, a big chunk of the others quickly followed suit.
I thought that eventually the closed-mindedness would end.
That the town I’d spent my entire life in would come around and at least accept monsters, even if they didn’t actively welcome them.
Nope. And it didn’t stop with blatant speciesism.
Town council became an angry, pitchfork-wielding mob.
Okay, fine, there were no pitchforks, and it wasn’t a mob so much as a handful of ignorant jerks, but still.
They forced one of the longtime resident families out of their home after learning the Wolferds had more wolf in them than just their name—they’re all wolf shifters.
And it’s not as if town council unearthed their secret.
The Wolferds outed themselves via an interview with Monster Life magazine.
They’ve always been nice people and, according to the article, they’ve never caused any harm to humans while in their wolf form.
Even town council didn’t dispute that, and I’m sure if they had even a shred of flimsy evidence, they would’ve slapped that card down on the table.
But they didn’t try to pin anything on the Wolferds.
They just booted them out of their home for no reason other than their nonhuman status, under the guise of expropriation. Such bullshit.
It’s been five years since the Great Revelation.
The Wolferds shouldn’t have to hide their heritage and true identity.
The magazine article was genuine and heartwarming, and should’ve hit their fellow townsfolk—my fellow townsfolk—in the feels.
When it did the opposite, and they were borderline-forcibly ousted from the home that’d been in their family for generations, I had to get out of there, even if only for a week and a bit.
All I can afford on a waitress’s wage in a town where most people are as stingy with their tips as they are with their open-mindedness.
So here I am, in one Monster Life’s “Ten Monster-Inclusive Destinations You Won’t Want to Miss This Summer” and yes, I did make sure to tell every bigoted person I know where I was taking my vacation and spending those hard-earned tips they gave me.
Since my boss was one of those bigots, I may need to find a new job when I go back.
If he fires me for being openly pro-integration, he can stuff my uniform apron up his prejudiced ass.
That’s a post-vacation problem. No more thinking about the miserable, tight-sphincter town I’m from while I’m here in happy Harmony Glen.
According to the magazine article, even before Harmony Glen gained notice for welcoming all species with open arms, it had a reputation as a charming summer tourist destination.
Nestled at the bottom of one of the Finger Lakes, it has lots of quaint shops and restaurants, a variety of water activities at the lake, and a breathtakingly beautiful and expansive conservation area on the outskirts of town.
Those last two things are still on my to-do list. The downtown is so cute, bustling with humans and monsters living and working in unison…
it’s perfect. I’ve always loved being surrounded by people, and being immersed in this community, even as a tourist, is like being plugged in to the best kind of energy.
That’s where I’d be again right now if the owner of the cabins where I’m staying hadn’t convinced me to come out to the farm market.
Glen, the owner of the alcove of small rental cabins along the river, was tending the already immaculate grounds when I stepped out of my cabin.
He’s a tree-man with what looks like woody bark for skin and green vines and leaves for hair.
I’ll admit to being a little unnerved when I first met him.
He’s one of many monsters I didn’t know existed until I got here.
Like everyone else in town, he’s been nothing but welcoming and friendly.
And adamant that I change my plans for more downtown shopping and head for the farm market instead. Today. It had to be today.
When I overhear the family with the energetic children and wagon of freshly picked produce talking to Ogram about how nice it is to find him working in the store for a change, I understand Glen’s insistence that I alter my plans.
In our few brief chats, I’ve told Glen how excited I am to experience a fully integrated community, and my hopes of meeting as many nonhuman species as possible while I’m here.
So, it’s kind of odd that Glen didn’t come out and tell me this might be my only chance to meet a troll, but that doesn’t matter, I’m just glad I did.
And not so I can add “troll” to a list. Because I met Ogram.
The moment I stepped into this building and our eyes met, something happened.
To me anyway, though I swear I felt vibes coming from him during our conversation.
Everything about Ogram hits the right notes.
He’s beyond tall. Broad. Thick. With eyes that twinkle like dark gemstones.
Massive hands that could crush me, yet I know, somehow, would be gentle if he touched me. Then there’s his mouth.
I want to look at all of him, but my attention keeps drifting to his mouth, my imagination running wild as I picture what it would be like to kiss him.
Would his tusks be rough or smooth against my cheeks?
Are they sensitive? Would he like it if I touched them?
Kissed them? Ran my tongue up and down them?
If it turned him on, then what? He’s humanlike in many ways—arms, legs, hands, a face with eyes, nose and mouth.
Does the similarity continue between his legs?
And if he does have a cock, is it larger than human size, too?
Heat winds its way through me at the thought of exploring his massive green body.
Of having him explore mine. I shift on my feet, squeezing my thighs together and subtly swaying my hips in an attempt to get some pressure on my clit, though that might only make things worse since I’m basically edging myself.
To make matters worse, the motion causes my sundress to graze my braless nipples, the combination of sensations requiring I bite my lip to suppress the sexually frustrated groan building in the back of my throat.
In a blink, Ogram’s attention swings from the customers at the counter to me. Eyes locked with mine, his chest expands and his nostrils flare.
Fire licks at my cheeks, and I turn away, focusing on a table full of potatoes in various sizes of baskets as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.
Even after the family has said their goodbyes and exited the store, Ogram still doesn’t come over or speak to me from behind the counter.
He doesn’t even clear his throat. The only sounds in the small space come from outside—muted, fading voices, the crunch of tires on gravel, then birdsong and the hum of cicadas, carried inside on a gentle summer afternoon’s breeze.
But I know he’s still there. I feel his eyes on me.
At some point, I have to turn around. Face him.
What’s my excuse for staring at him going to be this time?
The truth is a bit much to lay on a total stranger, especially one from a species I know nothing about.
But lying, pretending I’m not wildly attracted to him, feels wrong.
Plus, I’m really not wired for anything other than straightforward telling it like it is.
A character flaw, according to pretty much everyone back home.
His deep voiced, “If you thought of any questions, or still want my help …” slides into my ears as I’m turning toward him.
“I did and I do.”
Large hands planted on the wooden countertop in front of him, he gives a single nod. “Then I’m glad to be at your service.”
Would he say that if he knew all the ways I’ve imagined him servicing me since laying eyes on him?
It’s not like I have a monster fetish. I came here for the experience of meeting as many nonhumans as possible and seeing what it’s like to be part of a friendly, multispecies community, so I could go back home and tell all the assholes there to stop vilifying nonhumans.
At no point did I even think about getting involved with someone on this vacation trip.
Fucking a monster isn’t some freaky bucket-list item I want to check off.
But I do want to fuck him.
I think.
I’m pretty sure.
Like, ninety-nine percent.
Okay, I’m lying. There is no remaining one percent.
“You said I could ask if I have questions about trolls,” I say, moving toward him. “Can it be a personal question?”
His posture stiffens and his mouth becomes a straight line, as much as that’s possible with two big tusk teeth protruding from the lower side.
His thick russet eyebrows lower over dark eyes that never leave my face.
“I…” One hand goes to the back of his neck, rubbing it as if he’s trying to unscrew his head.
Rosy red blooms across the upper portion of his cheeks, like apples ripening right before my eyes.
He has to be at least seven feet tall and wider than a linebacker with pads on, yet he’s adorable.
Normally, I’d draw out his agony in the name of flirting.
But all I know about trolls is that I want to know more about this one.
Right now, simple and direct is probably the safe route.
“I wondered if you’re romantically involved with anyone, and if you’re not, if you’d like to meet me later.
Yesterday, I walked past a pub that looked like a fun place, and the sign out front said there’s live music on weekends, and tonight it’s a spider man.
Not like the comic book superhero. A spider who’s a man.
But you probably already knew that. Or know him. ”
“I did and I do. You’re talking about The Corner Bar.”
“That’s the one.” Smiling, I wait for him to continue.
Surely if he were going to decline, he wouldn’t have bothered to confirm the location.
But instead of answering my key questions, he just stands there looking…
pained. Leaving me to do the letting-off-the-hook thing.
“Sorry if I put you in an awkward spot with my invitation. Even if you’re not attached to someone else, you can say no to me. ”
“I would prefer not to say no to you.”
“There’s a silent ‘but’ at the end of that sentence, I think.”
A heavy sigh leaves his mouth, the kind that would make any normal-sized person’s shoulders sag. “But I am not at my best in a crowd, and The Corner Bar will be especially busy because of the live music.”
“Of course,” I say, heaving a sigh of my own. “Not five minutes ago you told me you prefer to avoid public and social events, so what do I do? Invite you to a bar. Duh. If you didn’t think I was oblivious before, I’m sure you must now.”
“I don’t think that at all. I told you trolls are generally of that nature, but I didn’t say all trolls are. My brother, for example, doesn’t fit the description. He’s a rock musician, currently on a North American tour. Unfortunately, I have a typical troll’s aversion to socializing.”
“You seem to be doing pretty well right now,” I say, leaning against the counter and smiling up at him.
“If I am, it’s because I don’t want our conversation to end.”
Is the big, antisocial troll flirting with me? I think he might be. I hope he is.
“If you’d welcome my company after your evening at the pub, it would be my honor and pleasure to see you safely to your accommodations, and perhaps we could talk while we walk.”
Yup, now I’m ninety-five percent sure he’s interested. Time to get that final five out of the way. “Would we be talking about your girlfriend or wife or other significant person?”
“No, as I have none of those.”
Internal fist pump? Heck, yes! “Then, what if I save my pub outing for another night, and we take a longer walk together instead? Maybe along the boardwalk—or if there are too many people there, you could suggest somewhere else. I really haven’t seen much of Harmony Glen yet, but I want to experience it all. ”
“I would like that very much, and the beach will be picturesque in the evening. May I call on you around seven?”
May I call on you, not pick you up. Either he’s just very polite and formal, or it’s been a while since he took someone on a date. Like, a long while. Then again, I have no idea how old he is. I’ve read that some nonhuman species have much longer lifespans. Regardless, my answer is the same.
“Seven is perfect. I’m staying at the Green Glen Cabins. Number three.”
His eyes twinkle as his deep-green lips pull into a smile. “I am very much looking forward to seeing you again.”
“Me too.” Pretty sure my feet barely touch the ground on my way out.
It’s only after I’ve figuratively floated all the way to my car that I realize I left the apples on the counter and didn’t buy a single other thing in his farm market.
But I left with a date, and no amount of farm-fresh goods could top that.