Page 67 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

Esmerelda burst from the leaves and chased Marigold around the garden, chirping excitedly. Marigold bleated and bounded away, pumpkin sweater bobbing with every leap, while Pip raced after them, screaming something about discipline.

Grievance rested his cheek against Milo’s curls.

Their home was very loud now.

He liked it that way.

By sunset, Pumpkin Hollow had begun to glow. They could see its light all the way from their spot on the hill. It was time.

Grievance stood before the bedroom mirror, fastening the last clasp around his wrist. Jewelry had fascinated him since he’d first seen it gleam through a shop window. He could not entirely explain why. Fine metals. Polished stones. Gems cut so precisely they captured the light and threw it back in geometric shards of rainbow color.

Tonight, Grievance wore nearly everything he owned.

Gold bands decorated several fingers. A bracelet hugged one wrist. Milo’s old cufflinks fastened his sleeves. His peridot pendant rested against his chest. And from his ear hung the emerald Milo had given him. His favorite. He turned his head, admiring the way the stone caught the lamplight. Deep green. Just like Milo’s eyes.

“You look handsome.”

Grievance looked into the mirror where Milo stood behind him.

His mate had dressed in his formal Healer’s uniform: a long navy coat fitted neatly through the waist, polished brass clasps marching down the front over a cream shirt. His copper-brown curls refused to behave beneath his pointed hat, spilling around his ears, and the dark blue made his green eyes startlingly bright.

And… was that black liner around his eyes? It absolutely was—a thin, simple line traced along his upper lashes, flicking into a sharp point at the corners and making Milo’s green eyes look larger, almost catlike.

Grievance stared in awe.

Milo shifted beneath his attention, suddenly self-conscious. “What?”

“I am reconsidering going to the festival.”

A smile tugged at Milo’s painted glossy lips. “Why?”

“Because I would rather stay here and look at you.”

Pink crept into Milo’s cheeks. Grievance grinned. There it was. He loved doing that.

“Just look at me?” Milo asked.

“Only at first,” Grievance said, his voice going low and husky.

Grievance stepped closer, letting his gaze travel slowly over his mate again. The clothes. The curls. That wicked little flick of black around his eyes. Milo had somehow made himself even more beautiful than usual on a night Grievance already considered sacred.

It seemed almost insulting to the Lantern to waste such a sight on the rest of Pumpkin Hollow.

“I was thinking,” Grievance murmured, catching Milo around the waist, “that perhaps the proper way to celebrate such a holy night would be to remain home and spend several hours worshipping my mate.”

Milo laughed, even as his hands settled comfortably against Grievance’s chest. “Oh, worshipping, is it?”

“Devoutly,” he purred, bending to kiss Milo on the neck.

“How—how very pious of you,” Milo said in a trembling voice.

“I am capable of great religious dedication.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Grievance bent closer, brushing his nose along Milo’s temple. “I could demonstrate.”

Milo’s laugh went softer. For one hopeful moment, Grievance thought he had him. Then a hand planted firmly against his chest and pushed.