Chapter 6 #2
The consort arched a very impressive brow. “An interview, huh? Because from what my warriors tell me, you were being attacked by nearly a dozen of our kind.”
Our kind? Drugged concussion induced fever dream? He really had to lay off the fantasy movies with Gomez if it impacted him this much.
“Your warriors?”
“Yes, Connal and his brothers.”
Luke flicked his gaze to Connal. “All three of those guys are your brothers?”
“Yes, my mate. And we will all keep you safe as is our duty.”
“I don’t need—”
“Bah! Another human mate. Too many humans in the Unseelie.”
Cosmo rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Luke. Garzaxie is just a little cranky about all the newcomers we’ve had in our realm, but our King is very pleased with our work and certain hobgoblins need to get with the program.”
Hobgoblin? Luke shook his head. “None of this makes sense, but seriously, I need to get back for my interview.”
“You can’t—”
“Connal, if you don’t—”
“We must prepare a feast,” Garzaxie said. “Prepare the human!”
Luke took a quick step back. Why didn’t that sound like a dinner invitation? Unless, of course, he was going to be the main course?
Garzaxie clapped his small hands together with alarming enthusiasm. “Move, move! We do not present a human mate looking like he crawled out of a ditch.”
“I didn’t—” Luke started, only to cut himself off as two more figures appeared out of thin air.
Actually appeared.
One moment there was nothing, and the next the room was occupied by what had to be attendants—or servants or whatever the hell this place called them—moving with the kind of quiet efficiency that suggested they’d done this before. That was…not a comforting thought.
“Stand still,” one of them said.
“I am standing—hey.”
Hands descended on him from multiple directions before he could finish the protest. Someone brushed at his shoulders while another tugged at his sleeve, and the air stirred around him as fabric slid over his skin in a way that didn’t make any logical sense.
His clothes didn’t come off so much as…cease to exist, replaced instantly by something else.
Luke glanced down and huffed out a breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Dark fabric fitted itself to his body like it had been tailored specifically for him, the subtle threading catching the strange ambient light in a way that felt intentional rather than decorative.
Even the boots—because of course there were boots now—settled into place as if they’d been waiting for him.
Luke's hand went immediately to his waistband. The thumb drive remained in a hidden pocket, and his phone pressed against his hip. Whatever had changed his clothes had left their contents in place.
“Acceptable,” Garzaxie declared, circling him with a critical eye. “Not ideal, but acceptable.”
“This feels like being kidnapped by a five-star hotel,” Luke muttered.
Garzaxie sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “You should be honored.”
That…did not help. Luke searched for help and caught the consort’s gaze as he lingered near the doorway. Cosmo crossed his arms and watched the preparations with the weary expression of a man who understood that this was a terrible idea but had already lost control of the situation.
As more hands followed the first round, this time aimed at his hair, Luke knew exactly what brought that expression onto the consort’s face.
This all seemed inevitable and out of his hands.
Someone pushed his hair back, someone else immediately undid that work, and then a third person adjusted it again as if they’d all come to slightly different conclusions about what Luke was supposed to look like.
He endured it with as much patience as he could manage, which wasn’t much.
Because something about this wasn’t sitting right.
At first glance, it felt chaotic—too many people moving at once, too many hands, too many decisions being made around him without his input.
But the longer it went on, the more Luke realized there was nothing random about it.
Every movement had a purpose. Every adjustment followed some internal logic he couldn’t quite comprehend.
They weren’t just fussing over him.
They were preparing him.
Luke stilled, his focus sharpening as he let himself really look at what was happening instead of reacting to it.
Garzaxie was directing the entire process with clipped efficiency, the attendants responding instantly without question. Cosmo sighed, clearly realizing there was no stopping the hobgoblin now. And Connal—
Connal was watching, not confused or uncertain.
Proud.
That was the part that landed wrong.
Luke’s stomach tightened as the pieces began to fall into place. This wasn’t about feeding him or even hosting him. Not really.
“This isn’t just a meal, is it?” he asked, aiming for casual and not quite hitting it.
Garzaxie didn’t pause in his pacing. “Of course it is a meal. Do you think we would not mark such an occasion?”
Mark.
Luke’s attention caught on the word. “What occasion?”
Garzaxie stopped then, turning slowly with a sharp, satisfied smile. “Why, your arrival, of course.”
Right. That wasn’t ominous at all.
Luke exhaled slowly, forcing his pulse to settle, even as his thoughts began to align. Arrival. Preparation. Presentation. Yeah. That tracked.
Because this wasn’t hospitality, this was a debut.
Suddenly, with uncomfortable clarity, Luke understood that he wasn’t leaving—not after this, not without changing the situation in a way he could control.
His gaze slid back to Connal, who was still watching him with that same unwavering certainty, as if everything unfolding in the room was exactly as it should be.
There it was.
The problem.
And, if Luke played this right, the solution.
He straightened slightly, rolling his shoulders back as the attendants finally stepped away, apparently satisfied with whatever they’d done. The space around him cleared just enough for him to think.
What did Connal want?
Not a fight. That much was obvious.
Not obedience, exactly, though that would probably be a bonus.
Something deeper than that—something Connal wasn’t even questioning.
The mate thing.
Luke didn’t understand it, and he didn’t need to. What mattered was that Connal did. More importantly, Connal believed in it.
Luke took a small step forward, closing the distance between them enough to pull Connal’s full attention. It worked instantly. Connal’s focus locked onto him as if everything else in the room had ceased to exist.
Good.
That was useful.
“Connal.”
His voice came out steady now, controlled in a way it hadn’t been before.
A faint frown formed between Connal's brows, as if he could sense the change but hadn't identified it yet. “My mate—”
“Yeah,” Luke cut in, not unkindly but firmly enough to stop that line of thought before it could take hold. “We’re going to pause that part for a second.”
Connal frowned. He clearly didn’t like that.
Luke didn’t care. He held his ground, meeting Connal’s gaze without flinching. “You want me safe, right?”
“It is my duty,” Connal said, the answer immediate and absolute.
Luke nodded once, as if that confirmed something he’d already decided.
“Great,” he said, letting just enough calm settle into his tone to make the next part land cleanly. Then he tilted his head slightly and met Connal’s eyes head-on. “You want me safe? Then you take me back to finish what I started.”