8. Grievance
CHAPTER EIGHT
grievance
The spirit of the Pumpkin Festival arrived long before the sun dared show its face. It came on a breeze of spices and mischief, whispering of the wicked things in the night. A promise that after this final sun went down, all the devils and demons would come out to play and howl to the moonlight.
That is what made the Pumpkin Festival so… perfect.
Grievance woke to darkness, warmth, and Milo’s cold feet shoved between his calves.
He opened one eye. His mate was still asleep, curled toward him beneath the blankets, copper-brown curls sticking out in every possible direction.
One hand rested against Grievance’s chest. His mouth hung slightly open.
Grievance smiled.
My perfect, beautiful mate.
Then Milo’s toes shifted, pressing higher up his thigh, which was about as pleasant as ice cubes on hearth-warmed skin.
“Lanterns, you are freezing,” Grievance said, trying to wiggle away.
“Mmm.”
“Are you even alive?”
“Mmm.”
Grievance reached beneath the blankets and wrapped a hand around Milo’s foot.
“Don’t just grab it!” Milo tried to yank it away.
“How else am I going to work some life back into them? At this rate we’ll have to amputate.”
“You’re—a—menace—” Milo said, punctuating each word by hitting Grievance with a pillow.
Grievance laughed, caught his wrist, and dragged his mate closer until Milo grumbled and buried his face against his chest.
“Good morning, my love,” Grievance said, kissing the top of the witch’s head.
“Mrnin,” Milo replied with an indignant muffle from between Grievance’s pecs.
It was a good way to begin Pumpkin Festival.
Unfortunately, they had work to do.
By the time they left the cottage, dawn had painted the horizon a pale lavender. Milo carried a wooden crate tucked against his hip, packed with the last of their popping crystals for the Wicked Whisk. The tiny orange crystals snapped and crackled inside their glass jars whenever the crate jostled.
They were one of Milo’s seasonal bestsellers. And, according to Rowen, the secret behind his wildly popular Pumpkin Pop Toffees.
Grievance had eaten exactly one.
The toffee itself was delicious. The problem came thirty seconds later when he’d hiccupped, and a flock of tiny glowing bats flew out of his mouth. They had circled his head three times before exploding into orange sparks.
Milo had laughed so hard he nearly choked. Grievance had not been amused.
They were halfway down Elderberry Lane when someone came barreling toward them. Not quite running; it looked more like a struggle against gravity as she hiked up the steep hill on very short legs.
“Pembrooke!”
Officer Hobbs hurried up the lane, one hand clutching the brim of her hat while the other pumped furiously at her side. By the time she reached them, the dwarf was red-faced and breathing hard.
“Pembrooke!” she huffed. “Please tell me you—”
“We’ve captured the culprit,” Grievance answered. “A baby Glaceryn with a case of the sniffles. It has been taken care of.”
Hobbs stared at him. Then released a breath so enormous her entire body seemed to deflate.
“Thank goodness. I’ve been so busy with safety preparations for tonight I almost forgot to check in with you.
” She planted her hands on her hips. “But you got the blighter, huh? Good. Won’t have to worry about children breaking their necks slipping on ice tonight.
” She pointed between them. “Thank you. Knew I could count on you two.”
“Same time next year?” Milo asked as a joke.
Hobbs laughed, wagging a pointed finger at him. “Don’t you go jinxing us now. Not unless you want another beastie boyfriend.”
“No, thanks.” Milo’s cheeks immediately went pink. “One is already more than I can handle.”
Grievance grinned and reached over to pinch his mate’s ass. Milo squeaked.
Hobbs groaned. “All right, keep it in your pants, boys.”
Milo slapped Grievance’s hand away. Grievance put it right back.
“Thank you again,” Hobbs continued, pointedly ignoring them. “Oh! Are you coming to this afternoon’s firework safety briefing?”
“Uuuuuuh…” Milo stalled, panic flashing in his eyes as real words completely abandoned him.
“We have to care for the Glaceryn,” Grievance answered smoothly. “We are very busy keeping up with a baby dragon.”
Hobbs blinked. “You kept it?”
“She took a liking to us.”
“And babies are a lot of work,” Milo added quickly.
“Don’t I know it.” Hobbs arched backward, pressing a hand against her lower spine. “I’ve got three little trolls ravaging my house. Well, as long as you’re keeping that frozen beastie off my streets, I’ll give you a pass on the meeting.” She tipped her hat. “Happy Pumpkin Festival, boys!”
“Happy Pumpkin Festival!”
They watched her disappear around the corner.
Milo released a long breath.
“Thanks for stepping in. She asked about the meeting, and my mind went completely blank.”
“I will go to great lengths to avoid another one of those.”
“You hate meetings more than I do.”
“I hate sitting in small chairs while Hobbs explains obvious things.”
Milo snorted, and Grievance nodded toward the crate.
“Now let us get these to the idiot baker and the vampiress. I have words for them.”
The Wicked Whisk was chaos.
Rowen stood behind the counter with flour streaked through his magenta hair, frosting smeared across one cheek, and the expression of a man who had consumed enough coffee to kill a lesser creature.
Sadie was carrying six trays at once.
“MY SAVIORS!” Rowen threw both arms wide.
“No,” Grievance said.
Rowen stopped. “I haven’t even asked anything yet.”
“No.”
Milo laughed and set the crate on the counter. “Last batch of popping crystals.”
“Thank the Lantern.” Rowen snatched one jar from the crate and kissed it. “Do you know how many Pumpkin Pop Toffees I have left?”
“Considering the line outside?” Milo asked.
“Seven.”
As though summoned by the number, someone outside shouted, “ARE THE TOFFEES READY YET?”
Rowen screamed back, “THEY WILL BE READY WHEN THEY’RE READY, AGATHA!”
Sadie covered her mouth, giggling, and Grievance narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her.
Rowen began unloading jars. “While I have you both here…”
“No,” Grievance said again.
“I wanted to apologize.”
Grievance paused.
Rowen pressed both hands together. “Properly. For the incident.”
Sadie immediately looked at the floor as though the sight of Milo and Grievance was enough to send her over the edge. Her shoulders shook as she visibly struggled to maintain a polite expression.
“It was an accident,” Rowen continued solemnly. “A terrible, unfortunate, completely unintended accident.”
Sadie made a strangled noise.
“Sadie,” Rowen warned.
“Sorry.” She covered her mouth with both hands.
Rowen managed to maintain his composure for approximately three more seconds.
“Though, judging by Milo’s neck, I suppose some good came out of it.”
“ROWEN!” Sadie doubled over, her mirth bubbling like sticky-sweet syrup as both of them started snorting and hugging their stomachs.
Grievance’s gaze slid toward his mate, who had gone a brilliant shade of scarlet. He didn’t have to look hard to see the mating mark imprinted on his neck, only partially covered by the collar of his shirt.
Grievance felt a deep, possessive satisfaction curl through his chest at the sight of it.
Had it not been for the incident, he might never have found the courage to ask for what he’d been quietly yearning for all this time.
To ask Milo to accept his mark. To wear it proudly upon his skin.
Another surge of pride swelled in his chest.
Perhaps he could forgive the bakers. Someday.
He looked at Sadie again, who was still laughing.
Grievance pointed at her. “You.”
Sadie straightened. “Me?”
“You did it.”
Her blue eyes widened innocently. “Did what?”
“You drugged me.”
“I would never.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“I smile all the time.”
Grievance continued to glare at her feigned innocence while Rowen leaned across the counter to whisper to Milo, apparently forgetting that Grievance’s superior hearing caught every word anyway.
“So?”
“So what?” Milo said immediately, turning pink.
“C’mon. Tell me a little. Was it worth it?”
“Rowen.”
“Just asking—how many dicks does a dragon have?”
“Rowen!”
Grievance allowed himself a smile at the way his mate was flushing harder than the baker’s stupid hair.
Rowen caught it, and his eyes went wide as he looked back and forth between them.
“Oh, my gods! It was a joke, but did you really—!?”
“WE ARE LEAVING.”
Milo grabbed Grievance by the arm and dragged him toward the door while Rowen and Sadie dissolved into laughter behind them.
“See you tonight!” Rowen called.
Milo shoved open the door and dragged him through it. But not before Grievance glanced back.
Sadie winked at him.
He pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at hers.
She blew him a kiss.
Yep. She was definitely the mastermind.
Back home, Pip had apparently established a curriculum.
“No. Like this!”
Grievance stopped chopping carrots, and Milo paused stirring the stew so they could both look into the sitting room.
Pip stood in the center of the rug with his front legs raised high. His little blue body puffed as large as it could manage while he exposed his fangs.
“HISSSSS!”
Esmerelda watched intently. Then she crouched. Her front legs bent beneath her, feathered wings flaring outward as her lips peeled back, showing tiny white teeth.
“HISSSSS!”
“Good! Good!” Pip bounced excitedly. “If someone attack Nestmaker, you do that.”
Esmerelda’s tail wagged.
“Then…” Pip lowered himself. “ATTACK!”
Pip launched himself across the rug. Straight onto Milo’s teddy bear. All eight legs wrapped around its head as Pip viciously bit into its face.
“Pip!” Milo said, wiping his hands on his apron. “Lucia gave me that!”
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
“No, wait—”
Pip released the bear. “Now you try,” he said to the excited Glaceryn.
“No, wait!” Milo cried.
Too late. Esmerelda pounced. There was a terrible ripping sound. Then—
POOF.