Page 78 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

Pip poked his four-eyed head out from beneath Milo’s pointed hat just long enough to bap him squarely on the forehead with a fuzzy, indignant little leg.

“Walk normal! Use brain!”

Milo sighed, straightening his hat, which only earned another muffled protest from beneath the brim.

“I do not walk like a gazelle,” Milo mumbled.

“Nestmaker walks like baby goat that hasn’t found its legs. Old enough to know better.”

Milo grumbled low enough that the sassy little opinion-haver under his hat didn’t hear.

Milo Jean Pembrooke was twenty-seven and had long since accepted that his lean frame wasn’t suddenly going to sprout muscles. He was built for long hours bent over cauldrons and reading books by the fireplace, not hauling crates through town. And yeah, fine, he could admit that he had a less-than-smooth gait when he walked.

But he didn’t feel like the awkward, knobby-kneed Healer Witch he’d been just a year ago.

Today, Milo felt particularly sharp, dressed in his full healer’s uniform, which lent him an air of confidence he didn’t always feel.

The navy coat fit his lean frame, tailored neatly with polished brass clasps. Beneath it peeked the crisp collar of a cream shirt, while a pointed witch’s hat sat proudly atop copper-brown curls that refused to stay tucked beneath the brim. Freckles dusted the bridge of his nose, and his bright green eyes—usually focused on herbs, potions, or whoever needed healing—were once again hopelessly fixed on the impossibly sexy man walking beside him.

“Nestmaker dumb around handsome monster,” Pip argued from somewhere inside the hat. “Maybe monster put on shirt.”

“Yeah, how about it… monster?” Milo stretched the last word just to see what would happen.

It had the desired effect. Grievance looked over, and his warm brown eyes softened before tiny flecks of peridot caught the autumn sunlight, glowing with wanting lust.

“Careful, my mate,” he rumbled. “There is still plenty of time to turn around. I’d like to finish what I started this morning.”

Heat flooded Milo’s face like hot caramel over a red apple. He cleared his throat far too loudly.

Their mornings usually followed the same comfortable rhythm. Shower. Coffee. Preparing the day’s potions for delivery.

Except…

Something about the crisp autumn air had left Grievance particularly affectionate lately. Every excuse became a reason to steal another kiss, wrap an arm around Milo’s waist, or pull him close until they were both laughing and their delivery schedule ruined.

Not that Milo was complaining. Truthfully… he’d felt it too. The change in season. October always made the magic in Pumpkin Hollow glow brighter. Every spell carried a little extra spark, every enchanted lantern glowed a little warmer, and every MythFolk seemed just a touch more vibrant than the rest of the year.

But Grievance…

Grievance wasn’t MythFolk at all.

He wasn’t human.

He wasn’t MythBeast.

He was a Chimera—a creature that existed somewhere outside those neat little categories, capable of taking nearly any shape he desired.

Or rather⁠—

Any shape Milo desired.

Over the past year, Milo learned a lot about Chimeras.

First, Chimeras did not have control over their forms. They took on the shape that tied them to a family unit, which they called a Veya. Their bond to a Veya grounded them in a single form until that family no longer needed them.

But the moment Grievance came into Milo’s life—the moment they had taken each other as mates—Grievance’s magic changed. As though brought on by his need to do anything, be anything to provide and protect his mate, Grievance could now take any form he chose at will.

Over the past year, he’d become remarkably skilled at discovering exactly which form made Milo’s heart race the fastest.