Milo - Sneak Peek Book 2

“I wondered if I would find you here.” 

Milo paused, a mug of ale halfway to his mouth. I had seen the way his fingers reached for his knife. An instinct that he had honed when out in public. But when he registered it to be the sound of my voice, he dropped his hand, twisting around to look at me. “Don’t usually see you out at the bars.”

The bar in question was the Tumble Tavern. A little out of the way place owned by a bunch of hobbes. Their seats were comically large given that their clientele was supposed to be of the shorter nature, and their food was abysmal. But, their ale was some of the best within the market. And they offered a quiet place for contemplation as long as it was not the holiday season.

“I wanted to talk to you,” I told him. 

He winced. “What’d I do wrong?”

“Not that kind of talk.” I hoisted myself up on the tall barstool, my foot tapping against Milo's ankles. Both of our feet dangled at least two inches off the ground. “Your fae side is getting to be a bit for you to handle, isn’t it.”

He stared out in front of him, looking at his reflection in the wall length mirror behind the bar. A hobbe jumped up, giving me an ale without question, before padding away. That was another thing I liked about this tavern. The wait staff read the room.

“Why do you say that?” he started slowly. Another sip from his ale was made, this time, much more delicately. At least he wasn’t trying to hide behind the mask of getting roaring drunk.

“There are a few little things I’ve noticed,” I started. I wanted to treat this delicately. I didn’t even know how much Milo realized he was changing. “You forget things sometimes.”

“Everyone forgets things.”

“The other day you wandered off during our time together and then came back two hours later apologetic because you forgot we were talking.” He had spotted something down the alleyway and went to investigate. Which led him to the Spice District where he had bought himself a cup of kafe. And then to a long conversation with a woman named Petri as they caught up on the latest gossip taking place down in the gem mines. When he had returned to me, he was flush and apologetic and I had to start considering how often this had been happening in the recent days.

He really had no leg to stand on there.

“You also have no qualms in who you hurt during a fight.”

He looked at me pointedly. “That’s always been the case. Fights are fights for a reason.” I knew that to be a lie. I had images of him crying after blood was spilled, begging someone to just tell him he was not his father. Then again, maybe in the moment, Milo had never cared how he made bleed. It was only after, when he had calmed, that remorse reared its head.

“You also have a strange little glow around your shoulders at times. When you get passionate about something.”

“Okay.” he eyed me oddly at that.

“Wings, Milo. They look like wings.”

That caused him to falter a bit, though he tried to hide it behind another sip of his beer. “I like to accessorize.”

Taking my own mug in hand, I stood, reaching out to grab Milo’s own. He followed me without complaint to a darker corner of the tavern near the very back. The seats were far more comfortable here and the lighting offered some privacy I was sure Milo was going to need.

“You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed any of this,” I started, settling down next to him, the two of us nearly pressed together.

Milo sighed. “I have.”

“And?”

“And what? I’m technically fae. I have no idea why all this is coming out now. I’ve gone most of my life thinkin’ I was human until someone had the audacity to prove otherwise. I don’t know how to stop any of it or if it's even worth stopping.”

“I don’t know if you need to cut it off. I just think we need to be aware of it all. Especially if it gets… more intense.”

Milo hit his head on the able, groaning. “I don’t even know what that means.”

Silently, I patted his back, watching as he continued to bounce his head off the table. A few of the hobbes looked towards us but I smiled at them, assuring them that everything was okay. When Milo finally rose again, he had a red mark on his forehead. 

“So, this brings me to the next part of our conversation,” I told him quietly. “What if we try to find a way to the fae realm. Where you were born. Connect you with your people.”

“No.”

“Milo–”

“My father was a piece of shit and I don’t want anything to do with him, and my mother is dead.”

His father was human and his mother was missing. But Milo had already put his blinders up.

“You may have other family. You also may be able to get help in understanding what exactly you are. What it is you need to look out for. I’m not saying we go off tonight and do it but I am saying that we should consider it.”

He was frowning. That intense line between his eyes were deepened as he listened to what I had to say.  With a sigh, he took the rest of his drink, gulping it all down. The mug slammed on the table, startling a few of the patrons.

“I’ll think about it,” he told me quietly.

“That’s all I ask.”

Turning to me, he studied my face. Eyes traveling up and down the bridge of my nose, to my mouth, and back to my own gaze. “You gonna mind if I get more and more fae like?”

“I don’t think so.” Scooting forward, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, one hand snaking down to toy with the knobs of his spine. “I kind of like the wings,” I told him.

Milo shivered, a lazy grin finally melting across his face. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” I grinned, leaning forward to press my mouth to his. Beneath his shirt, I felt something flutter.

“Well then, darlin’, wings you should have.” I laughed loudly as he tried to pick me up bridal style to carry me from the room. Instead, he ended up tipping over the table, spilling my drink, and garnering the attention of three disapproving hobbes. The night would end with us back at my place, but before that, I would watch him clean up his mess, and try to hide my smile each time a hobbe glared at him with the disappointment of an elderly grandmother.

At through it all, I could see the faint glimmer of Milo’s wings.