Page 19 of The Grinch Who Stole Orcmas

We make our way through the crowd, my arm linked through Grum’s. His warmth seeps through the fabric of his jacket, and I lean into him more than strictly necessary.

Before mingling, Grum pulls me to the groaning buffet table and shows off his manual dexterity by balancing three loaded little plates in one hand. He snags a champagne flute from a passing waiter’s tray and pulls me to the edge of the room as he scarfs what must be a pound of colossal shrimp, then washes it down with the entire flute of champagne.

“What?” he asks, though I’m positive my expression doesn’t reflect how astonished I am at his appetite.

“Nothing.” I’m the picture of innocence.

He’s positioned himself with his back to the wall and is scanning the crowd. Since he’s already mentioned his superior orc hearing, smell, and sight, I assume he’s tuning in to conversations I can’t hear.

Grum stiffens. “Three o’clock,” he mutters, his voice low, eyes focused across the room. “Man in the blue suit. That’s Sykes.”

I casually glance in the direction he indicated, spotting a distinguished-looking man with silver hair. He’s surrounded by a group of people hanging onto his every word.

“Should we get closer?” I whisper, my heart racing at the thought of accosting him and causing a scene.

Grum nods, his expression intense. “Follow my lead.”

As we make our way toward Sykes, I marvel at how easily Grum navigates the crowd. For someone who claims to be out of his element, he moves with surprising grace.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a deep masculine voice interrupts. “We have so many festivities for you tonight—the silent auction, a fun raffle, but right now let me introduce to you the world-famous Other rock group, Labyrinth.”

“Have you heard their music?” Grum asks. “They’re terrific.”

“Yes. It was so exciting when Alfie went public.” He’d been one of only two Others not forced to live in the Integration Zone. He’d been an infant when he came through the Rift and an influential Georgia senator adopted him along with another minotaur infant. The poor brothers were basically housebound until he became Internet-famous for his unique blend of Other and human rhythms.

The group takes the stage. There’s a naga drummer, several minotaurs, and a few orcs. Kam told us he plays with them sometimes but didn’t sign on for this gig.

Before we can get any closer to Sykes, couples flood the dance floor, effectively cutting off our path.

“Quick,” I hiss, tugging Grum onto the dance floor. “We need to blend in.”

His eyes widen in panic. “I-I don’t dance.”

“You’ll do fine,” I retort, suddenly excited about being in his arms. “Just follow my lead.”

His expression still looks pained, but the rest of his wide-shouldered, slim-hipped body looks… fine. More than fine, actually. As he takes me in his arms, his large hands settling tentatively at my waist, I’m struck by how natural this feels. The warmth of his touch radiates through the thin fabric of my dress, and I have to resist the urge to lean closer.

Even with his grumpy face, there’s something magnetic about him that draws me in. Maybe it’s the way his amber eyes soften when they meet mine, or how his tusks catch the light when he almost smiles. Whatever it is, I’m finding it harder and harder to remember why I ever thought he was just a green-skinned Grinch.

Grum’s brow furrows as if he’s wrestling with conflicting emotions. “Joy,” he murmurs, his voice low and uncertain, “all this Christmas stuff… I’m trying, but it’s not easy for me. Every jingle bell reminds me of what I’ve lost.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “But being here with you… it’s starting to feel different. Like maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.”

I can’t control the little thrill that sizzles through me at his words. The harsh male I met the day he first walked through my shop door is slowly opening up—to the holiday season… and to me.

Without pause, Labyrinth moves from a pounding almost-pagan beat shifting into something akin to a slow dance. I brace myself for Grum to pull away, but he surprises me by drawing me closer, his large hand engulfing mine. His spicy scent envelops me, and I have to forcibly redirect my thoughts from imagining him in far less formal attire.

“Well, well,” Grum rumbles, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Who knew the Tinsel Queen had moves?”

I arch an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Grinch.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles, spinning me gently. “Where’d you pick up these skills? Secret elf dance academy?”

“Oh yes, it’s very exclusive. We train by dancing on rooftops.”

His low laugh is so sensuous all I can think of is kissing him.

“Seriously though, you’re pretty graceful for someone who trips over tinsel.”

“Hey! That was one time!” I protest, but I’m smiling too. “If you must know, my dad taught me. He was quite the dancer in his day.”

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