Page 137 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

“No freezing Nestmaker.”

Esmerelda gave a pitiful little chirp. Then, apparently deciding her punishment was over, she attacked her dinner.

Milo sat back on his heels and watched her eat. Pip remained perched between her ears like a tiny blue crown, already muttering instructions she almost certainly didn’t understand. Grievance leaned against the doorway behind them, the emerald in his ear catching the firelight whenever he moved.

Three days ago, Milo had been worried Pip would never forgive him for bringing the little dragon home.

Now Pip had an apprentice.

Grievance had named her.

And Milo apparently had another creature in his house who thought listening to him was optional.

He smiled. His family had grown again.

It was louder now. Messy. Colder, that was for certain. And judging by the overturned furniture in the other room, significantly more expensive.

But as Esmerelda finished her dinner and promptly curled around Pip—trapping the spider against her fuzzy chest despite his furious protests—Milo felt something warm settle just behind his solar plexus.

Pumpkin Hollow had given him many things he’d never expected.

A home.

A mate.

A talking spider who had appointed himself familiar. And now, apparently, a baby ice dragon named Esmerelda. Milo reached down and scratched gently behind her ears. She rumbled sleepily and leaned into his hand.

Yeah. I could get used to this.

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.”