Page 2 of The Orc and the Innkeeper

Since the inn was magically built, there’s still magic in it, even though it’s had human proprietors for years now. Many of our guest rooms have magical features.

“I’m half tempted to upgrade him for free,” I reply with a grin, knowing full well that the enchantment on that room might actually cause a man like that psychic damage. The walls are lined with murals that come to life at night—fairies dance, trees sway, and the moon sings.

It would be a spectacle.

Alas, I do have a reputation to uphold here and I need the steady business I get from human travelers. It took years to get this place upgraded after my great aunt Ida’s death and I’m mired in debts from it, both Ida’s and my own.

Plus, things have been slow around here recently. We’ve been in a weird tourist slump. I can’t afford anything impacting my business right now.

I wave Laurelle off as she heads upstairs to clean up the rooms and try to regain that moment of peace and calm I was enjoying so much.

Sinking back into my desk chair, I pick up my phone, mindlessly scrolling through MagicMatch, the dating appeveryone uses in Elderberry Falls. My dating life has been as chaotic as the inn ever since I broke up with my last boyfriend—a charming but utterly unreliable sprite who thought borrowing money without asking was affection.

I swipe past a series of potential matches: a vampire who loves sunrises (ironic, much?), a werewolf with an allergy to fur (the poor guy), and a merman looking for someone who doesn’t mind long distances, literally.

Being a human in a magical town is never boring, that’s for sure. Sometimes I get treated like a sideshow attraction by my date. And sometimes I get the feeling that guys I’m seeing are just dating me because they find me exotic or a novelty.

But there are upsides. Monsters and magical beings are built differently from human men. Usually in good ways.

Verygood ways.

As I chuckle to myself, my finger stops on a new profile that catches my eye in a spark of familiarity.

The photo shows a tall, muscular orc with a greenish hue to his skin, and a panty-melting smile that displays ferocious tusks. His thick, corded arms are folded across a broad chest swathed in a tight flannel.

Thorak Ironfist.

I scowl at his photo, even as a heat forms low in my belly.

Still stupidly handsome, I see.

Probably still an unrepentant asshole, too.

I swipe left with more force than necessary, causing my phone to slip from my grasp and clatter onto the desk. “Not today, Satan,” I mutter under my breath.

Just as I’m about to pick my phone up, Laurelle comes barreling back down the stairs, panic plain on her face.

“Mariah, you need to come see this now!” she exclaims, her gray hair mussed and her usually calm demeanor replaced by urgent concern.

I spring up from my chair. “What’s happened?”

I follow her quick strides back up the staircase. Laurelle doesn’t often lose her composure, so whatever it is must be serious.

“There’s something all over room 4A,” she says over her shoulder as we climb to the fourth floor. “It’s glittering. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but it looks like it might be…”

My heart sinks. “Pixie dust mites,” I finish.

We rush into room 4A. The situation is a glittering disaster.

The pixie dust mites are everywhere, shimmering in the air like a cloud of mischievous stardust—it’s beautiful and horrifying at the same time. The magic of the room’s usual enchantments seems dimmer, sputtering under the assault of these tiny pests.

“They must have come in with someone’s luggage,” Laurelle guesses, a frown creasing her otherwise serene face. “Or maybe through an open window.”

I nod, surveying the scene. The ornate mirror on the wall is obscured by a thick layer of glittering dust, and the hand-crafted wooden nightstands are shimmering unnaturally.

It’s as if the room is caught in a perpetual twilight sparkle. Just not the enchanting kind we aim for at Moonflower Inn.

This is so freaking bad.

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