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It wasn’t overly busy—just six monster males standing at various stations. I narrowed my eyes, looking them over. An ogre, a dark elf, an unsettling male looking human apart from his wide, flapping ears, a plantlike creature with a row of sparkling eyes around their head, a large, strange beast sporting a set of feathery, pink-and-gold wings, and…
I took a step forward, my stomach lurching. I didn’t know how, but I knew. That was him.
Tall and muscular, the male was of a humanlike build, but burlier and wider in the shoulders than the human men I knew. His body, from the top of his head to his bare feet ending in blunt black claws, was covered in longish, gray fur that had a blue sheen to it.
A pair of short antlers sprouted from his temples, a symmetrical bony structure curling from their bases resting over his forehead, forming something that looked like a crown. His face was humanlike, the fur covering his cheeks short, longer only at his chin and jaw.
His eyes burned orange, his mouth set in a grimace. And maybe I would have dwelled on that unhappy expression, but my attention was instantly drawn to movement behind his leather clad thighs.
A long, furless tail that reached down mid-calf swished behind him in agitation. It was gray and looked strong, swinging rapidly from side to side while the monster listened to the priestess—mypriestess—explaining something to him with an exasperated expression. Suddenly, he reeled back from the counter, the tail freezing, poised up into the air before it twisted, showing an incredible range of motion.
It wasn’t like a dog’s tail, that much was clear. It looked like it could grab things, winding around them with precision. Like another limb.
“Mister Frost, please, those are the rules! You have to at least meet the bride before you…”
The priestess lowered her voice, but that was fine. I was already striding toward my future groom, my fear folded into a tiny ball and buried under layers of fury and impatience. Here he was, refusing to even meet me, when my very survival depended on him. It was just sotypical.
I stopped by his side, swallowing a wave of unease when I realized how much taller than me he was. His face was so far up, I had to tilt my head back when I cleared my throat to make him pay attention.
The priestess fell silent and the monster looked down at me, his angry expression sending a spike of fear into my gut. A spike I immediately turned into fuel for my rage, because that was what I always did with fear.
I drew myself up as tall as I could and jabbed my finger into his furry sternum.
“You there! Furball! Where the fuck have you been?”
Chapter 3
Jack
Istared at the female who just called me a furball and my first thought was, “What a rude little human.” But as I watched her cheeks flush with anger, pale blue eyes gleaming with thunder under thick blond brows pulled low in a scowl, I couldn’t really stick to that first judgment.
Because, as I took in her slender frame and long limbs, the mane of blond hair, and her hands placed furiously on her narrow hips, I couldn’t help but have a second thought. And it was, “Whoa, down boy. We’re too old to do that in public.”
I opened my mouth to answer her, but my brain blanked out, dazzled by her full pink lips, beautiful even when twisted with anger. So I closed my mouth, cleared my throat, and blinked at her stupidly, completely forgetting what it was she asked.
“Mister Frost, meet your bride,” the priestess said helpfully, and I thought I detected faint echoes of laughter in her voice. But when I glanced at her, her face was perfectly schooled into a look of demure politeness. “This is Scarlett. Scarlett, this is Jack Frost, your matched groom.”
“Or furball,” I blurted out before my brain caught up with my mouth, because I was back to staring at Scarlett’s lively face. It made my thoughts scatter. “You can call me furball.”
She huffed, tilting her head to the side, flinty eyes assessing me. “I just did. I also asked you a question.”
I rubbed the back of my head, my skin heating with a blush under the short fur on my cheeks. “Ah, yes. So you wanted to know…”
“Why you’re late,” she snapped, her foot tapping with impatience.
I glanced down, eyes falling to her shoes, which were made of soft leather and so worn, they were practically falling apart. Even her shoelaces were so threadbare, it was a wonder they still held together.
Focusing on this new detail, I let my eyes roam up her slim figure, taking in the ripped hem of her dress, which looked warm, but was visibly patched up in many places. The knuckles of her right hand, still bossily clamped on her hip, were raw, the skin wet with crimson.
I reached out and grabbed her hand, bringing it high to inspect the damage. Scarlett’s gasp, followed by an angry hiss, stopped me in my tracks. I looked down at her warily, my face really hot, her hand still clasped in mine.
“What are you doing, monster boy?” Her voice was even more cutting than before, cold fury pouring out, and there was no mistaking the way my cock twitched eagerly in its sheath.
Oh, fuck.
“Why are you injured?” I parried with a question, warming up to this verbal match. Her every word was like a swing of a blade, sharp and lethal, and that broke my reverie. Still dazzled and uncomfortably horny, I could at least think again.
It was her turn to blink stupidly, her lips parted as she stared at me. I huffed and looked at her palm, stroking my thumb over the back of it, right under the broken skin. “How did this happen?” I asked, looking back at her. “Did you punch somebody?”
