2. Milo
CHAPTER TWO
milo
Sleep, apparently, was no longer on the evening’s agenda.
Milo couldn’t say he was particularly disappointed.
The moment they stepped through the front door of the Hollow Antler Apothecary, he knew both of them were way too excited at the prospect of rescuing a mystery creature to sleep.
So began the part of his “save the MythBeast” operation that Milo liked the least.
DIY
He shivered as they dug through the pile of wood, wire, and rusted tools left over from the last time Milo had attempted this, more than a year ago. He could already feel the splinters in his fingers.
Grievance smiled at his very obvious displeasure as they set out the assortment of materials on the study floor.
“You hate this kind of thing, don’t you?”
“To be clear, this kind of thing hates me,” Milo chirped, already getting irritated with the tape measure.
This is going to be a long-ass night.
An hour later, the apothecary floor had disappeared beneath piles of wood shavings, coils of enchanted wire, springs, nails, and enough scattered tools to convince anyone passing by that a tornado had recently paid them a visit.
Thankfully…
Grievance was exceptionally good with his hands.
Something Milo was intimately aware of. And maybe that was why, rather than participating, he spent most of the time just watching his shirtless mate work. Using those large hands, shaping and working the materials into submission.
“See something you like?” Grievance asked through an amused grin.
“No,” Milo huffed, tearing his gaze away from washboard abs and returning to his… well, he didn’t know what he was doing. He had a nail in one hand and a—
What the hell even is this? A level?
Yeah. He was worthless.
Grievance smiled and plucked the—thing—from his hand.
“Let me take that before you hurt yourself.”
Milo was too enchanted to chirp back. He watched as his Chimera handled nearly all the measuring, sawing, and hammering before turning to the more delicate work of installing springs and triggers.
“These should catch whatever it is without hurting it,” Milo said, moving to the part of the project he could actually help with.
He brushed a hand over the metal frame, blue runes briefly glowing beneath his fingertips.
“I’ve enchanted the hinges, too. If whatever we’re dealing with melts metal—or tries chewing through it—it should hold. ”
Grievance slid another plank into place. “Considering it leaves snow wherever it goes…” He drove another nail home with one effortless strike. “…I doubt it is a Fire Salamander.”
“I agree.” Milo enchanted another spring. “But just in case. Things can be melted with acid as well as heat.”
A few more careful adjustments. Another test. Snap.
“I think that’s sensitive enough,” Grievance said with a satisfied nod, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.
Milo’s mouth watered, craving the salt on his tongue. Now that they were back at the cottage, Grievance had abandoned the denim vest altogether in favor of what Milo privately referred to as his preferred state of existence.
Namely… shirtless. Milo wasn’t complaining. Not even a little.
Still, they had a job to do, so Milo forced himself to refocus on what Grievance had said earlier.
“Speaking of guesses, you said you had one. Back by the tracks.”
The Chimera nodded. “I scented something unusual.”
“Unusual how?”
“I cannot tell you what creature it was. Which is the unusual part.”
That… was surprising. Very surprising. Grievance had lived hundreds of lives. He’d worn more forms than Milo could possibly imagine. To encounter a scent he didn’t recognize…
That never happened.
“You’re saying you’ve never been whatever this creature is?”
Grievance slowly shook his head. “I don’t believe so.”
“…Wow.” Milo leaned back against the workbench. “So what can you tell?”
Grievance closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the scent.
“It hatched.”
Milo blinked. “What?”
“I smelled calcified shell.” He tapped his own nose. “And the membrane that surrounds young before they emerge.” He frowned thoughtfully. “It was pretty strong.”
“So…” Milo slowly pieced it together. “It came from an egg.”
“Yes.”
“And…” Grievance smiled softly. “It is very young.”
“How young?”
“A week. Perhaps two.”
Milo’s heart gave a painful little squeeze.
“…Poor thing.”
He imagined something no bigger than Marigold wandering through unfamiliar woods, accidentally freezing everything in sight while desperately trying to survive.
As though sensing Milo’s aching heart, Grievance reached across the workbench, resting a warm hand over Milo’s.
“We’ll find it. We’ll get it somewhere safe before anyone hurts it.”
Milo smiled. “I know.”
“Pip will help!” The bright blue spider scurried along one of the exposed ceiling beams overhead. “Pip protect Nestmaker.” His tiny front legs shot into the air dramatically. “In case baby egg animal attack.”
Grievance looked at Milo, who rolled his eyes.
“Thank you, Pip.”
The words left both of them at exactly the same time. They stared at one another, then burst into laughter.
Pip spun in a confused circle. “What funny?”
They laughed harder.
“I no understand joke!” He waved all eight legs frantically. “Explain! Explain! Explain!”
Milo wiped tears from his eyes.
They’d successfully built three traps and were well into the nighttime hours when, without warning, Pip jumped from his place in the ceiling and perched in front of the back door, hissing loudly, his front legs raised and fangs bared.
Milo flinched, heart leaping to his throat.
“Pip, what’s wrong?”
“Intruder!” His hiss echoed through the cottage.
Grievance was already on his feet, crouched. Green light pulsed around the edges of his tattoos, his magic ready to change his shape for a fight. Milo held his breath.
There.
Scratch…
Scratch…
Scratch…
Something scraped insistently against the back door. Marigold was already tucked safely into her barn for the night. It couldn’t be her. Too loud for a field mouse. Too insistent to be an accident.
Breathe Milo. It’s probably not a big deal.
Carefully, Milo crept toward the door. The scratching continued. Grievance positioned himself beside the frame—ready.
Milo slowly unlatched the door. It creaked open, and sitting primly on the porch—wearing an absurdly tiny pointed witch’s hat—
Was a plump little possum.
“Oh.” Milo let out a giggle as relief washed over him. “Hello there.”
The possum blinked up at him before proudly holding out a folded letter clamped in its little mouth.
“Don’t trust it!” Pip hissed from somewhere by his feet.
Milo chuckled. “It’s all right, Pip.” He gently accepted the envelope. “It’s just Rowen’s familiar.”
The possum tipped its tiny hat. Then darted off the porch and disappeared into the darkness, heading back toward town. Milo closed the door behind it.
“What does the annoying baker want?” Grievance asked beside him, already irritated.
“Will you two relax?” Milo unfolded the letter. The note smelled faintly of cinnamon. He smiled despite himself.
It read:
Pembrooke, my man!
Thanks again for bailing me out with the extra Daydream powder today. Seriously, you’re a lifesaver.
Sadie’s been experimenting with a few new recipes, and somehow we’ve ended up with enough pastries to feed half the Hollow. Before I let innocent paying customers anywhere near them, we’d love a couple of trusted guinea pigs.
Swing by in the morning. Coffee’s on me.
Tell Grievance he doesn’t have to glower this time.
You’re a real one.
—Rowen
Milo let out an amused sigh. Rumor had it Sadie was an incredibly capable vampiress… and an absolutely disastrous baker. Apparently, she was determined to improve. Which meant Milo was about to become quality control.
“What is it?” Grievance asked.
Milo folded the letter. “Nothing exciting. Just have to stop by Rowen’s in the morning. He wants us to try some pastries.”
Grievance groaned. “Do we have to?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“If that all… Pip tired,” the spider announced as he hauled himself back toward the ceiling on a thin strand of silk. “Night.”
Milo looked up just in time to see his tiny blue legs vanish into a webbed nest in the corner of the study.
“Thank you for protecting us, Pip,” Milo added, feeling like he needed to be a little more patient with his not-familiar spider.
“Welcome,” came a clipped response.
Fuck. Tomorrow I’ll bribe him with some silk-worms. That’ll cheer him up.
But that was tomorrow’s problem.
Right now, it was just him and his monster.
Milo looked up to find Grievance already watching him. Those warm brown eyes were locked onto his, the pupils blown wide in that unmistakable way they always were when the Chimera was seconds away from pouncing. Hunting. Claiming what was his.
Fuck yes. Keep looking at me like that.
Milo was already on his feet before he’d consciously made the decision, one word perched on the tip of his tongue.
“Shower?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Milo gasped as his back pressed against the cold shower tile, while his front was sprayed with water turned to near-boiling. Or was that just how it felt as it rolled from Grievance’s body and onto his?
His wild Chimera.
Grievance held Milo to him, crushing him in arms thick as Milo’s legs, shoving their bodies as close as possible while they rutted against one another in the spray.
Steam filled Milo’s mouth as he gasped. Inhaling and breathing in the musk of his mate, getting drunk on the scent of his desire.
His lust. The animalistic need that was all… him.
“Been wanting this body all fucking day,” Grievance growled into the crook of Milo’s neck, licking that tender spot below his ear.
Milo tried to wrap his arms around Grievance’s shoulders, but they simply wouldn’t meet. The Chimera’s broad, bear-like frame was too wide, boxing Milo into an embrace of solid muscle and blistering heat.
“It’s yours. All yours,” Milo gasped. “Do what you like.”
Grievance hummed low in his chest, the rumble making the water shiver across his skin.
“Mmmm, my sweet mate. If I were to do everything I wanted, we’d never leave this shower.”