5. Chapter 5
Chapter five
A fter a rough start, Arlo had finally rediscovered the magic of the festival, as well as the love for his job. Oh, he still had to deal with the odd complaint or irritated guest, but the sheer level of entitlement had decreased significantly over the past three days.
Likely because they all feared Itri would dropkick them into another dimension if they so much as breathed wrong in his direction. Or maybe because Skye had made it clear that she wouldn’t tolerate anyone mistreating her staff.
The masked shifter—a coyote by the name of Bensen—had been escorted from the party by security and placed in the back of a police cruiser. Then Skye had taken it a step further by banning him from ever stepping foot inside one of her establishments again, including the hotel’s sister property in Louisiana.
News had traveled swiftly, and by the following morning, every guest at Blackhaven Manor had heard about the incident. The consensus had been unanimous.
Bensen had gotten off easy.
Arlo assumed they meant the Ministry of Otherling Affairs. Although he had no personal experience with the governing body of the paranormal world, he’d heard stories. Apparently, MOA took Otherling attacks on humans quite serious. Deadly serious.
Or maybe they had been referring to Itri. In which case, he agreed that the outcome could have been worse. Being blacklisted had to be better than being dismembered.
The most surprising thing about the debacle, however, had been its role in his promotion from housekeeping to the hospitality team. He had mixed feelings on the matter, to say the least.
On one hand, it came with better pay and less physical labor. He just didn’t know if he had earned the position, or if Skye had felt sorry for him. He likely wouldn’t receive an answer anytime soon, either.
While some people might look down their noses at cleaning for a living, he had enjoyed the work. Largely due to the fact that he never knew what he would be walking into next. One day, he might be scrubbing runes off the ceiling, and the next, he could be dismantling an actual freaking nest some avian shifter had built on the balcony.
Beyond delivering extra pillows or handling the odd accidental fire, he had mostly avoided lengthy interactions with guests. As a new member of the hospitality staff, however, interaction pretty much embodied the job description.
The concierges took care of the fancy stuff, like reservations, itineraries, and arranging to have seventy-two rubber ducks in top hats delivered to one of the basement suites. Arlo? He made those deliveries, and he was expected to do so with a professional smile and a lack of judgment.
Which, fine, but he still had questions.
Why specifically seventy-two? Why the top hats? Was the vampire who ordered them just really into bathtime? Or was she starting an adorable cult? Honestly, with her flowery dresses and gothic neck tattoo, it could go either way.
Apart from enabling possible duck cults, his new duties included catering to every mundane whim of the hotel’s guests. Even if that meant fetching coffee for one very obnoxious and slightly confused sylph.
Stopping outside one of the standard rooms, he rapped his knuckles against the door. “Mr. Isar. I have your order.”
The door swung open immediately, as if the fae had been pacing the entryway, waiting to pounce. Draped in a cobalt silk robe that opened to his navel and barely brushed the tops of his thighs, the male swept his shimmering bronze hair back from his face.
For the most part, Otherlings didn’t have hangups about things like nudity. Which was great. He loved that for them. Still, this felt like...a lot.
Arlo averted his gaze as he held out the cup. “Will there be anything else?”
“Are you sure this is fat free?” The sylph asked, holding the drink gingerly between his long, elegant fingers.
“Yes, sir.” Arlo hitched his smile a shade brighter. “I’m quite certain.”
“What about sugar?” Mr. Isar brought the cup to his nose and jutted his chin forward to sniff it. “I don’t like sugar.”
Not surprising. With their heightened senses, most Otherlings didn’t enjoy bold flavors, whether that be sugar, salt, or spice.
“I assure you there is no fat or sugar in your plain black coffee.”
No happiness. No fun. Just bitter disappointment.
The male arched a singular brow with unveiled suspicion before taking a delicate sip. Immediately, his eyes rounded, and his entire posture relaxed.
“Perfect.” Sliding his free hand into the pocket of his robe, he came back with a twenty and passed it across the threshold. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”
With that, he slipped back into his room, humming to himself and shaking his hips as he closed the door behind him.
Arlo chuckled and pocketed the tip. Okay, that had turned out far better than he’d anticipated. He just hoped his next stop went as smoothly. Somehow, he doubted it.
Apparently, so did the staff at the front desk, hence why they had sent him to inform Itri that one of his deliveries had mysteriously disappeared.
Taking a deep breath, he made his way back toward the elevators and stopped outside the door of his mate’s suite. He didn’t fear the dragon, and he knew that any annoyance Itri felt wouldn’t be directed at him. Still, it always sucked to be the bearer of bad news.
He knocked lightly, then pasted on a bright smile as he took a measured step back. No need to signal his distress before he even got the words out of his mouth.
The muffled sound of footsteps approached, followed by a distinct snick as the lock disengaged. Then the door swung open, and a whole lot of dragon filled the frame.
As always, he looked absolutely perfect. Not a single platinum hair out of place, nor any rogue creases in his black slacks and matching V-neck sweater. In fact, he was far too put together for so late in the day.
Arlo bit his bottom lip and dropped his gaze as he willed his body not to react. Oh, he had seen the shifter ragged and disheveled, but thoughts of Itri naked and sweaty did nothing to calm his racing pulse.
“Sorry,” he said when his mate just stared at him. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just—”
His words ended in a sharp intake of air when Itri captured his face in both hands and slanted their mouths together in a blistering kiss. His tongue plunged between Arlo’s parted lips, delving and tasting, and a sharp canine scraped delicately across his bottom lip.
“You can interrupt me anytime, dove.”
Unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone speech, Arlo simply nodded.
He imagined at some point he would stop feeling overwhelmed every time Itri so much as smiled at him, but he hoped it didn’t happen for a long time. Until then, he planned to enjoy every second of the whirlwind.
“Did you miss me?” Itri teased as he brushed a curl back from Arlo’s brow.
“Yes,” he admitted readily and without shame. He thought about Itri constantly, and he grabbed onto any excuse, no matter how small, to sneak away from his duties to see him. “I am actually here on official business, though.”
“Sounds important.” Stepping back from the threshold, Itri took his hand and pulled him inside the room. “Tell me.”
It was an invitation rather than a command, and Arlo felt a little more of the tension bleed from his shoulders.
“Apparently, a package was delivered for you today, but no one knows where it is. It just—” He held up both hands, miming an explosion. “—vanished. I’m so sorry.”
Itri hummed and nodded a couple of times. “That is unfortunate.”
“I know. I don’t—wait.” Arlo rested his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side. “That’s it?”
His mate shrugged. “That sleep dust was barely worth the price I paid to have it shipped. It’s not a substantial loss.”
While glad to know it hadn’t been some priceless artifact, the truth only raised more questions. “Then why did you have it shipped here?”
“I acquired it for a lovely guest on the third floor.”
“My bad. I didn’t realize you were in the business of doing people favors.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared at a point over Itri’s shoulder. “I hope your lovely customer isn’t too disappointed.”
“Come now, dove.” Hooking a finger into Arlo’s waistband, Itri dragged him closer. “There’s no need to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
That would be stupid and childish. He was just concerned about people taking advantage of his mate. Obviously.
“Miss Lilith is a lovely soul .” Itri stressed the last word, then paused, waiting for Arlo to meet his gaze again. “She is a succubus nearing the end of her life, and the changes in her mind make restful sleep nearly impossible.”
Arlo sighed, his entire being relaxing into the dragon’s touch. First off, that might be the saddest thing he had ever heard, but also, how freaking sweet was his mate? But now he felt like a total asshole, and he didn’t even have a good excuse for it.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Itri’s smile never faltered. “Don’t be. You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“I wasn’t jealous.”
“Whatever you say, dove.” He brushed a soft kiss over Arlo’s lips before stepping away. “Have you finished your shift?”
“Yep. This was my last stop. I just have to go clock out.”
“Did you want to do anything tonight? Dinner perhaps?”
“I thought we could stay at my place and cook?” The words tumbled out, rolling over one another. Then he held his breath, waiting for the male’s reaction.
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” Itri responded as he retrieved his jacket and a small overnight bag from the closet. “Maybe we could explore the market before we leave. There is a faerie vendor offering a variety of fae delicacies.”
It didn’t escape his notice that the guy had a go-bag ready and waiting, which might have been the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Still, he swallowed back his chuckle and focused on the proposal instead.
“Yeah, okay. That sounds fun. Let me clock out and grab my stuff.” As he spoke, he inched toward the closed door. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“I’m ready.” Itri slung the strap of his leather bag over one shoulder. “Let’s go down together.”
Arlo frowned, his brow creasing in confusion. “You’re bringing your bag?”
While just a small satchel, big enough for a change of clothes and a few toiletries, they could always return for it after their trip to the festival market.
“It’s more efficient,” Itri answered.
While a reasonable explanation—and he also intended to retrieve his own backpack before heading to the show floor—something about the situation felt off. Not the act itself, exactly. More like Itri’s energy had shifted.
Or maybe he was reading too much into it.
Since he couldn’t put his finger on what felt different, he shrugged it off and continued toward the door. At the moment, he had bigger things to worry about. Like making it to the front desk before someone spotted him and decided to task him with another errand.
Exiting the room, he turned right, heading for the staircase rather than risking the wait for an elevator. Besides, taking the lift meant a longer trek across the lobby. He didn’t hurry, though. Instead, he strode down the steps with purpose, trying to make himself appear busy, as if on his way to handle an important request.
Once he reached the lobby, he maintained that same vibe, striding briskly along the marked pathways to the row of registration desks. By divine intervention or sheer luck, it worked, and he managed to enter his code and sign off for the day without interruption.
“Feel better?” Itri asked, smirking at him from the other side of the counter.
Arlo beamed, not even trying to hide it. “Absolutely.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward a narrow corridor behind him. “Let me grab my bag. Two seconds.”
“Take your time. There’s no rush.”
Maybe not, but there also wasn’t any reason to linger. He found his cubby in the walk-in closet designated for employees, pulled on his sweater jacket, and slung his backpack over one shoulder. Granted, it took him a little longer than the two seconds he’d promised, but in under a minute, he returned to Itri’s side.
“Ready!”
The shifter chuckled as he took Arlo’s hand and linked their fingers together. “Is there anything in particular you want to look at while we’re at the market?”
His thoughts immediately strayed to the little dragon figurine, but he shut that thought down quickly and shook his head. “No. Nothing specific.”
It was too embarrassing to admit that he couldn’t afford the small trinket, particularly when he knew Itri could buy the whole damn castle if he wanted. Oh, he had no doubt his mate would purchase the dragon for him if he asked, but that didn’t sit right.
In fact, it made him kind of queasy.
Itri had already given him so much, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that generosity by asking for more. Especially not for something so frivolous.
Maybe he could casually steer them toward the booth, though. Just for a quick peek.
“So, tell me, what are you thinking for dinner?”
Arlo adjusted the strap of his backpack a little higher on his shoulder as they made their way to the converted conference rooms where the vendors had set up. “Pasta.”
“Excellent choice.” Itri squeezed his hand. “Are we talking a nice Alfredo? A pesto? Or maybe a simple marinara?”
While that all sounded delicious, he’d had something different in mind. “Um, mac and cheese?” Was that weird? Just in case, he added, “But, like, fancy mac and cheese.”
“Even better. Maybe with some breadsticks?”
He couldn’t tell if Itri was being serious or patronizing him. He sounded serious, and he wore a warm, pleasant smile.
“I love breadsticks.”
“What’s not to love?” Itri released his hand when they stepped into the market, placing it lightly against his lower back instead. “Where should we start?”
Although he had made many trips to the marketplace, each one had been a hurried excursion. Being able to explore without time constraints felt like an entirely new experience, and his excitement bubbled over as they navigated the expansive rows of tables and stalls.
A soft glow emanated from a tent selling miniature trees in colorful pots, their canopies aglow with magical stardust. Upon closer inspection, he realized each one played a unique lullaby with some of the most beautiful, mesmerizing melodies he had ever heard.
A few tables down, they paused at a booth where a teapot perched on a silver tray etched with runes. When they approached, the kettle began to shimmy and chatter excitedly.
“Fancy a cuppa, loves?” it piped in a shrill, cheerful voice.
Itri chuckled and motioned for the vendor to pour them both a cup of pale blue tea. Arlo sipped it carefully, surprised by the natural sweetness that tasted like wildflowers and honey.
A little further along, a collection of enchanted mirrors caught his attention. The biggest one, the one in the center of the table, swirled with a kaleidoscope of colors as he brushed the carved frame.
“Greetings,” the mirror intoned with a deep, melodious voice. “Would you care for a glimpse of your future, or perhaps a memory from the past?”
Arlo shook his head and stepped away from the booth. There wasn’t anything in his past worth seeing, and he had no desire to look into his future. Itri, however, leaned forward with a mischievous grin and whispered something too quiet for him to hear.
Instantly, the reflection changed to show them entering the marketplace only minutes earlier, hands linked and eyes smiling.
Arlo snickered under his breath. Oh, his mate was a sneaky bastard, but the sight of them together filled him with a kind of happiness he’d heard about, but didn’t think could be real. The kind people wrote sonnets and poetry about.
Pure, absolute, and maybe just a little frightening.
They continued their exploration, encountering both the strange and the charming. A stand selling marionettes that danced without strings. A fountain of ever-changing colored water that skipped to music. A tent selling used books that whispered their stories to anyone who picked them up.
Eventually, they made it to the elfin vendor with the enchanted dragon figurines. Arlo did his best to keep his expression impassive and not reveal his excitement, but in the end, he couldn’t stop the smile that stretched his lips.
Six winged dragons—no bigger than hedgehogs—frolicked atop the table that had been charmed to look like a real forest, complete with a shimmering lake. Some slept peacefully in the grass, their tales wrapped around them like scarves. A sapphire one with twin horns rustled its wings as it dipped its head to drink from the still waters. Another, a scarlet beauty with a main of black hair tilted its head back and let out a small, muted roar.
They each seemed to have their own unique personality, and he adored them all, but he found himself drawn to one in particular.
At first glance, the tiny beast appeared as black as night, but when it moved a certain way, when the light hit it just right, its scales gleamed like smoky emeralds. It, too, had horns, but smaller than its sibling’s, and a raised ridge along its spine.
As he crept closer, the creature plodded over to the edge of the table and stared up at him, its big, yellow eyes glowing with curiosity and intelligence. It lifted its delicate wings, stretching them into the air, and its tiny claws seemed to grip the edge of the display with a quiet determination.
Arlo’s grin widened, even as his heart swelled with a bittersweet longing. So close, yet so far away. He shook his head, and a wistful sigh escaped his lips before he could catch it.
Itri, ever observant, crouched down in front of the table to get a better look at the emerald dragon. “A fine warrior. Strong. Brave.” He glanced up at Arlo, but his gaze didn’t linger. “It seems to like you.”
Arlo felt the sting of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. “It’s just a toy,” he muttered. “And some clever magic.” Straightening, he forced himself to turn away from the display. “So, where are these fae delicacies you promised me?”
“Arlo?”
He felt more than saw Itri rise behind him, but he couldn’t face him. Not yet.
“Oh, I think I see it.” He pointed vaguely at a spot on the far wall. “Come on.”
Then he walked away, too mortified, too annoyed with himself, to wait for a response.