Page 2 of Buckle Up, Buttercup

“Liar,” he says with a snort, slapping my back with the spade-shaped tip of his long purple tail. “You never come.”

“Not true,” I correct. “I went to that whiskey tasting event.”

He groans again and slaps a hand over his face, running it up and over one long, curved horn. “That was, like, eight games ago, dude. I’m not gonna bug you about tonight, but come with us sometime, please? We kinda like you. And it’ll be good for you.”

I doubt it. I wasn’t a party animal at the Protector Academy, and I’m not a party animal now. Give me a nice whiskey, a library, a roaring fire and a great view, and I’m happy.

I promise again that I will, but the reality is that I can’t wait to get back to Pine Gulch. It’s where I feel the most like myself. It’s where I feel at home. And even though the big old ranch house I bought is in terrible shape and needs a lot of work, I’d still rather be there dealing with that than here in a sex club dungeon watching my teammates enjoy the perks of being famous skyball players.

Sex dungeon could be fun with the right person, my brain helpfully supplies.

But I don’t have the right person, so I’d rather not go.

Not that I wouldn’t take someone special if the chance arose.

After grabbing my bag, I head out the players’ exit and pull a hoodie up over my head, slotting my curved horns through dual holes in the top of it. My black hair is knotted at the base of my neck, and if I keep my head down, I can mostly walk through monster headquarters without getting stopped a ton of times for autographs. Of course, my size alone makes other monsters look, but that can’t be helped. I’ve learned to hunch my shoulders and shuffle a bit.

Hearth HQ’s black sky opens up and dumps out snow, slicking up the streets. I love it because it means most monsters will be consumed with getting inside.

Dipping into an alleyway, I walk until I reach Sembin Jewelers, a small shop owned by a family friend. Inside, I head directly to the back display case and glance at a specific piece I’ve seen before. Breathing a sigh of relief, I smile at the sales clerk as I point to a delicate chain necklace.

“I’ll take that necklace, please, and can you ship it in a gift box for me?”

I’ll see Bluebell tomorrow but I love sending her things in the mail. It’s become a tradition of ours.

The pixie clerk smiles as she removes the dainty necklace from its velvet tray. “Of course, Hadrian. This is absolutely gorgeous. Girlfriend?”

Shaking my head, I fish around in my pocket for my credit card, then slap it onto the counter. “Just a friend.”

Friend.

That word’s never really fit the complicated maelstrom of my emotions toward Bluebell Tucker. But, per usual, I keep it friendly out of my respect for her brother and our friendship.

Completing the transaction, I scribble a little note to be included with the shipment. It’s perfect for her and while she doesn’t wear a ton of jewelry, I know she’ll love this.

A snowy half hour later, I make my way inside the Grand Portal Station on the Protector Academy grounds. The school might be my old haunt, but as I think about home, my feet move faster.

Stalking through the wide arched entryway, I head for the Higher Grounds coffee shop at the far end of the station. Glowing green doorways situated around the room form a network of magical portals connecting all fifty-plus hidden monster havens. The bright doors emit faint green light into the oval-shaped, cavernous room. It’s busy with monsters of all species hurrying across the space, traveling between havens.

It used to be that each monster haven was only connected to one other, making it a real pain in the ass to travel between them. Away games were a nightmare to get to when that was the case.

The new Grand Portal Station has been open six months, and I can’t imagine life before it. Traveling with the Academy team to other havens sometimes took us the better part of a day, making multiple stops.

This late, there’s no line at Higher Grounds. I order, returning the gargoyle worker’s soft smile when she recognizes me. She tucks her hair behind one long, delicate ear, and I take a moment to admire how pretty she is. It’s something I’ve done for the better part of five years since I went to the Academy.

I examine the females who seem interested in me, and I wait to see if they produce any sort of physical reaction in my chest. My heart’s silent, and it will be until I find my mate. When I bite and claim her, it’ll start beating. It’s a sensation all gargoyle males are obsessed with. I can’t wait to feel it.

But like every other time I focus on it, everything inside me is quiet and cool, despite her smile growing flirtatious.

And then there’s the other part of my brain that reminds me how this female stands a head higher than someone else I know. How the gargoyle’s hair is a long, silky black, whereas another’s is always brilliantly royal blue—except for Punishers’ game days when the little human female uses a spell to change her locks to match my team’s colors, black and gold.

She’s on the sidelines for every home game, screaming my last name like a banshee. She’s practically my sister, although that’s never been right.

Even thinking about Bluebell’s hair makes something inside me simultaneously clench and unfurl. It’s an unpleasant sensation because what I really want right now is to be at the Tucker dinner table, spending time with my favorite people, winking at her dad while I poke fun at Jasper.

Jasper and Jack are the oldest Tucker kids…twins.

Jace is the middle Tucker, the bookish one.