6. Milo #2
Milo had a theory about it too. Grievance had lived countless lives over countless centuries, and more than a few had been spent in the bodies of dragons. Perhaps some treasure-hoarding instincts never completely disappeared.
He slipped into the shop, and less than five minutes later, emerged with a tiny velvet pouch tucked safely inside his coat.
Grievance had moved approximately three feet; apparently, the caramel gun was jammed, holding up the line.
“I’m back.”
His mate turned, his eyes immediately sweeping over Milo from head to toe as though to check for injury.
“You were gone seven minutes.”
“Were you counting?”
“Yes.”
Of course he was. Milo stepped closer. “Hold out your hand.”
Grievance’s brow furrowed, but he obeyed. Milo dropped the little pouch into his palm, and the Chimera’s grouchy face softened.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
Grievance loosened the drawstring and dumped the contents. A single emerald earring set in gold slid into his palm. It was simple—nothing extravagant—but the stone was genuine. That was exactly why Milo could only afford one. He’d never be able to afford the pair.
For several seconds, Grievance said nothing. Milo suddenly felt nervous.
“The lady inside said she lost the other one, so I got a discount. I thought maybe we could turn this one into a pendant or a brooch… or something.” His voice faded away as Grievance continued to stare at it, without a word.
“If you hate it, we can go back and exchange it for something—Mm!”
Grievance grabbed Milo and kissed him. Milo melted into that familiar possessiveness of his mate. The one who wasn’t afraid to grab Milo and touch him the way he needed to be touched.
There is my monster.
Grievance licked the seam of Milo’s mouth, and just when Milo was about to moan and make a scene in public, he pulled back.
“Thank you, my love.”
Some of the heaviness finally disappeared from Grievance’s expression.
Milo took the single earring and lifted it beside Grievance’s face, admiring the way the stone caught the autumn sunlight.
“Green is definitely your color. You like it?”
“I love it.”
“What are you going to make it into? It could work as a pendant on a necklace.”
“Why not an earring?”
Milo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Your ears aren’t pierced.”
“I’ve debated the idea of permanent body jewelry. This is a perfect opportunity to start.”
“You know I’m going to have to poke a hole in your ear, right?”
Grievance closed the earring in Milo’s hand and brought it to his lips, placing a long, reverent kiss across his knuckles.
“As long as it’s you, my love, you can put as many holes in my body as you like.”
A voice somewhere behind them whispered—
“Aww, they’re so cute together.”
Milo beamed. Actually beamed. He couldn’t help it.
“What?” Grievance asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re smiling.”
“Someone thinks we’re cute,” Milo whispered shyly.
“We are cute.”
The matter-of-fact way he said it was so… Grievance. He said it the way one might say the sky was blue or the sun was warm. Like it was so obvious, it hardly needed saying at all.
Somehow, Milo’s smile grew even wider. A year ago, a stranger noticing him at all would have made him want to crawl inside his own hat.
Now?
Now Milo stood in the middle of a crowded street, holding hands with his enormous monster and practically basking in it.
Yeah.
They were fucking adorable.
They eventually tore themselves away from the festivities. Milo couldn’t stay gone long anyway.
Flu season had arrived in force, and the Hollow Antler Apothecary had been seeing a steady stream of customers needing fever reducers, cough tonics, throat syrups, and something Milo had begun selling under the highly professional name of:
Please Make My Nose Stop Running.
Besides—
They still had a job to do.
Their first trap was empty. Completely empty. Including the bait.
“Where’s the rabbit?”
Grievance crouched beside the cage.
Milo had enchanted the meat to remain warm, hoping the scent would attract whatever young creature was wandering through town. Apparently, it had worked—a little too well.
“The trigger wasn’t activated,” Grievance said.
Milo crouched beside him. “So it took the bait without setting off the trap?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Grievance examined the cage. “I don’t know.”
Milo narrowed his eyes. “You built these.”
“With your design.”
Milo gasped at the accusation. “Are you blaming my design? I’ll have you know I’m a master craftsman.”
Grievance snorted and ignored his mock offense. “I’m saying perhaps the creature is clever.”
Milo poked his shoulder. “You’re no fun.”
Grievance fixed him with an exasperated look.
“Your body is currently paying the price of my fun side. So let’s keep things tame for today. Sound good, my darling?”
Milo knew he only said it to tease him, but he couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in his chest at the sweet endearment.
The second trap was exactly the same. Empty cage. Missing bait. Untouched trigger.
Milo threw his hands into the air.
“How is this thing getting past our traps?”
“Perhaps it has very long arms.”
Milo looked at the trap, then at the ground around it. There were no tracks, though that hardly meant anything when the snow responsible for making them melted away almost as quickly as it appeared.
“You think?” Milo crouched, trying to picture it. “I suppose that might work. If it stuck a hand through from this angle and…” He tilted his head, studying the mechanism. He arched his arm over his head, contorting. “It would have to have thumbs to—” He stopped.
Milo slowly looked over his shoulder. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Never.”
He totally is.
Milo narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you really think? The long arms? Or are you messing with me?”
“I would never do such a thing.”
Yes, he fucking would.
Milo rose and stalked closer, stopping when they were nearly chest to chest. Grievance still insisted on wearing that damn black vest, which did nothing to hide his thick, tattooed arms.
“You know, this is a very important mission. Hobbs is counting on us. The very fate of Pumpkin Hollow rests in our hands.” Milo delivered this proclamation with all the solemn gravity of a witch announcing the end of days.
“Of course.” Grievance nodded, barely holding back a grin. “Very serious.”
“Extremely.”
“Whatever would become of us without the annual butchery of Toil & Trouble?”
Milo’s mouth fell open. “Butchery?”
“I have heard you MythFolk sing. You should really leave it to the sirens.”
“It’s a traditional hymn!”
“I know.”
“That choir has been practicing for weeks.”
“That makes it worse.”
“Mrs. Bramblethorn has been teaching it for forty-three years.”
“Then she has much to answer for.”
Milo shoved him, and Grievance good-naturedly pretended to stumble.
“That is exactly why we need to take this seriously!”
“I am taking it very seriously.” Grievance caught Milo around the waist before he could retreat. “I can’t wait for this year’s rendition of a sacred hymn meant to usher in the harvest moon. What is the theme this year? Jazzy Disney?”
“You’re an ass.”
“And yet you continue to indulge me.”
“I’m clearly overcome by your animal magnetism.”
“Mmm.” Grievance hummed. “A sensible explanation.”
Milo tried to hold onto his glare. He really did. Then Grievance smiled.
Bastard.
Milo grabbed the front of his vest and pulled him down.
Their kiss was supposed to be quick. Just enough to wipe that smug expression off his mate’s face.
Instead, Grievance hummed against his mouth and tightened his arms around Milo’s waist, and suddenly Milo was smiling into the kiss like an idiot. Grievance kissed the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then tried for another when Milo turned away laughing.
“No. Absolutely not. We have work to do.”
“One more.”
“You always say that and it never is!”
“It will be this time, promise.”
“Liar.”
Grievance kissed him again, and of course—again. Milo snorted and finally managed to wriggle free.
“We have work to do,” Milo reminded him.
“Yes. Let’s check the last trap, then when we get home—I can tend to this.”
Grievance’s fingers brushed lightly over the bandage at Milo’s neck.
Milo stilled.
The humor faded from Grievance’s face almost instantly. His thumb hovered at the edge of the dressing, careful not to press against the tender skin beneath it.
Milo caught his wrist.
“No. Don’t. You’re not allowed to go back to being a pouty—I’m sorry, broody—Chimera.”
Grievance’s eyes lifted to his. “You haven’t put any Ash Balm on this wound.”
Milo shrugged. “I want to keep this one. I don’t want it to heal completely.”
Something changed in Grievance’s expression. Pleasure, unmistakably—but tangled with that lingering guilt Milo had been trying to chase out of him all day.
“Milo…”
“I said, don’t worry about it.” Milo softened his voice. “I want this one, Grievance.”
He guided Grievance’s hand back to the bandage. “It marks me as yours.”
Grievance went very still. Then his gaze dropped to Milo’s neck again, and a small, terribly pleased smile tugged at his mouth despite himself.
“Then it is only right that you mark me, too.”
Milo blinked. “What?”
Grievance tipped his head, offering his neck with complete sincerity. “I am equally yours as you are mine.”
Warmth bloomed through Milo’s chest.
Holy Lantern… this ridiculous monster.
“I can’t bite you, Grievance. My teeth are too blunt. I’d have to take an actual chunk out of you.”
“I would happily endure it.”
“I know you would. That’s the problem.”
Grievance seemed prepared to argue. Then Milo’s gaze drifted upward. To his ear.
“I have a better idea.”
“What is it?”
“One that involves a sterilized needle and your ear.”
Grievance’s brows came together in a concerned but excited expression. Milo laughed and took his hand.
“Come on. Last trap first.”
Grievance allowed himself to be tugged along, looking altogether too pleased with the prospect of whatever Milo intended to do to his ear once they got home.
Unfortunately, the final trap was also looted of bait and completely empty.
“Long arms?” Grievance offered.
“You think you’re so funny.”
But Milo was laughing.