Page 104 of Mystique of the Fallen
Grant gave Roman a rather lecherous once-over. “The VK in charge can think of quite a few things he’d like to do to you.”
“This is getting really sexy, but I feel like I should point out that I’m a shifter and I can hear every word,” Damian drawled from a couple of feet away. “Also, there are children in this parade, so if clothes are coming off, we should probably send them indoors.”
“Ignore him,” Roman ordered. “He’s just pissed because he’s fighting with Marcus.”
Damian’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “What? No, we aren’t.”
The loud banging of drums from the parade bands signaled that the parade had finally taken their first few steps on the carefully plotted route, but nothing inside Grant relaxed. He’d be twisted in knots until it ended.
“I heard you two bickering while Grant was giving some of the teams last-minute instructions,” Roman argued.
Damian stuck a finger in the collar of his shirt, and his dark gaze grew pained. “Chrys and I thought it best to wait until the last minute to tell Marcus that he was going to be on the float with our Emperors. We knew Marcus wouldn’t want the spotlight on him, but he’s the Ducsarcelle and leads Draconis Enterprises. Marcus was adamant that he wasn’t getting on the float.”
Grant had missed the earlier argument and imagined Marcus hadn’t appreciated having the news sprung on him. “How did that work out?”
“Marcus is above us on the balcony Chrys and Elf reserved for our High Kings and the D’Vaires who preferred not to be in the bleachers on the road,” Damian muttered.
Roman laughed. “He’s still pissed, isn’t he?”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Damian said, though fear lingered in his black eyes.
“You’re welcome to come sleep on our couch if you need a place to stay tonight,” Roman teased.
“You’re not funny.”
Grant’s magical communication device sparked to life as teams kept him updated on how the parade was progressing as it passed their assigned spots. Thankfully, everything was running smoothly so far.
“We could send a few fallen knights to your condo tonight in case Marcus decides he wants to murder you,” Roman told Damian.
The Imperial Duke glared. “Grant deserves better than you.”
“You guys are cute, but shut up. I need to hear my teams,” Grant ordered.
Roman grinned and mimed zipping his mouth closed while Damian stood in the bright sun with a disgruntled expression on his handsome face.
Time raced by, and before long, the parade was in sight. Past the first band was a large group of adorable elven children dancing in the street in beautiful costumes.
“I’m glad the Virfenwyn tribe finally responded to Kalthekor,” Damian said. “Zane was furious when he called their leader. The thought of any tribe not wanting to deal with the Valzadari because of some old incident or due to their skin tone didn’t sit well with any of us.”
“Okay, Grant didn’t tell me shit about his meetings,” Roman replied. “What happened with the Virfenwyn?”
“Complete miscommunication, thankfully,” Grant explained as he waved at the smiling children. “Chieftain Virfenwyn has a new assistant. Apparently, the elf is young and a relative. Either they didn’t train the poor kid or he’s disorganized. Kalthekor’s messages never made it to his chieftain. Zane called from the Office of the Emperor, which made the kid panic. He literally pulled his chieftain out of the bathroom to talk to Zane. Chieftain Virfenwyn immediately called Kalthekor and was delighted to be included in the parade.”
“Sounds like the Virfenwyn tribe needs a Kyle,” Roman said.
“Everyone needs a Kyle,” Grant replied.
With the parade in full swing, Grant had little chance to gossip with Roman and Damian. In his ear was a steady stream of positive communication, and although his sweating issue had calmed, Grant was still focused on ensuring nothing went wrong. When the last person sailed to the end of the parade route, he’d allow himself to relax.
But he had to admit, it was impossible not to enjoy the magnificent floats rising high above the street, the smartly dressed bands, and the incredible dancing provided by groups or tribes like the Virfenwyn. The Council had outdone themselves, and it was a glorious way to celebrate the strength, diversity, and ever-growing populations their government included.
∞∞∞
Seated in the passenger seat of Roman’s personal vehicle, Grant rubbed his hands on his jeans as his mate pulled into a parking spot.
“This is the place, huh?” Roman asked.
“Yep, I figured if I let this Bradley character pick where he wanted us to meet, he’d be more inclined to accept my invitation.”
