Page 44 of Fixing the Grumpy Pumpkin King
Walking toward Briar House with purpose in his stride. Coming to work his shift at the haunted house like he’d promised Rowan. Like nothing had happened. Like Jack’s heart wasn’t currently manifested as a giant depressed pumpkin in the basement.
Then someone stepped into Bramble’s line of sight. A young man, moving fast, intercepting Locke. Talking urgently. Apologizing.
Jack focused despite himself.
“Who is that?” he asked through the bond.
“I...I don’t know, my lord,” Bramble responded, uncertain. “They’re talking like they know each other.”
“Hey!” Pip chimed in, his voice sharp with recognition. “That’s Corbin. Locke’s former boyfriend or some shit.”
Jack went very still.
The man reached out. Pulled Locke close. And kissed him.
Something in Jack’s chest turned to ice. Then fire. Then nothing at all.
Locke wasn’t pulling away. The kiss lasted seconds but felt like years. Proof of what Jack already knew: Locke had chosen his human life. His human love. His safe, mortal existence over eternity with a forgotten god.
“Bramble.” His voice came out flat. Controlled. “Look away.”
“My lord...”
“Look. Away.”
The vision cut off, leaving Jack alone in the darkness again.
This was better. Cleaner. Locke could have his human life, his shop, his friends, his apparently-not-so-ex boyfriend. And Jack would return to the Loam and the castle and the endless seasons turning without meaning. Just like before.
Except now he’d know what he was missing.
Now he’d know what it felt like to wake up with someone tangled around him. To hear laughter in his kitchen. To be looked at like he mattered.
A thought slithered through his mind, dark and possessive and entirely unbefitting of someone who claimed to love:I could take him anyway. I’m a god. He’s a warlock. I could bring him to the Loam, bind him to me. Make him mine whether he wants it or not.
Jack shoved the thought down hard, disgusted with himself.
He didn’t want a consort who hated him. Didn’t want Locke looking at him with resentment and regret for the rest of eternity. If he couldn’t have Locke’s heart, he didn’t want Locke at all.
Even if it killed him.
“My lord?” Russet’s voice came through the bond, hesitant. “It’s Samhain. Our last night here. Shouldn’t we...do something? Celebrate? One last hurrah before we return to the castle?”
Jack said nothing. What was there to say? What was there to celebrate?
“My lord?” Russet tried again, softer.
Still nothing. Just the darkness and the ache and the counting down of hours until midnight.
Then he felt it. A presence entering Briar House above him. Familiar magic, bright and raw andLocke.
“How DARE he hurt you!” Pip’s fury exploded through the bond. “Who wouldn’t want to come live in our palace? It’s the most beautiful of all the seasons!”
“Pip, don’t—“
But Pip was already gone, already confronting Locke, loyal and protective and about to make everything worse.
Locke wiped his mouth hard, like he could scrub away the memory of Corbin’s lips on his.
