Page 15 of Goblin Candy

“Did he go monster hunting at all?” She wiggles her eyebrows as she gives the clean tee I pulled on this morning a suggestive look.

“Found, tortured, and slayed,” I confirm with a chuckle.

Lottie smirks as she leans back in her chair. “Knew he would be a keeper.”

“Maybe,” I agree cautiously as I take another sip. “It’s only been one date. Even Kyle lasted longer than one date before he started complaining.”

Though I have to admit that he was nowhere near as into the spookiness as Grimsal seemed to be. He certainly never jumped my bones in the middle of the horror movies that he barely seemed to tolerate. Oh, he felt me up enough and tried to get me to suck his dick, but it always seemed as if he was purposefully just tuning his attention into what he wanted rather than mutual lust.

“Well, he certainly seemed to enjoy himself at the fundraiser. We had a lot of people commenting on how good he was.”

I hum in agreement. There is certainly that. “We’re supposed to go out today—he’s got some sort of surprise worked out. I’m afraid that means we will have to reschedule for the fall festival.”

Lottie pouts a little, but I’m not buying it because I see the excitement brewing in her eyes. “We can go another day,” she quickly assures me and blushes. “Besides, I sort of have a bit of a date myself.”

I lower my cup, my curiosity piqued. “Do you? With whom?”

She blushes brighter. “Remember the male I was writing to…”

My mouth gapes open. “No!”

“Yes!” She slaps a hand over her mouth as she giggles. “I can’t believe it. He mirrored me at the library yesterday rather than just sending me a text message and asked if I were busy tomorrow. Apparently, he’s going to be in town to visit relatives who’ve relocated here.”

I whistle lowly. “Go, Lottie! What does he look like? Is he hot? Please tell me he’s hot.”

“Gods, he is so hot,” she affirms, fanning her red face.

“And?” I say eagerly. “Come on with the tea! What is he?”

Lottie pressed her lips together and shakes her head. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” she says apologetically, “but he worries that some might be afraid of him. His kind tends to be nocturnal, but he’s so sweet and I don’t want you to freak.”

That… doesn’t sound good. “Spit it out, Lottie.”

“He’s a draxalican,” she blurts out.

I stare blankly back at her. It rings a bell, but I can’t quite place it.

“A spider demon, some call them.”

For the second time this morning, my mouth drops open. Now that I know. “No fucking way.”

Inhumanly beautiful as far as their human torso goes—so long as they keep their smaller extra eyes shut—from the belly down they are an arachnophobe’s worst nightmare. I mean, not mine considering that I’m partial to the eight-legged terror hamster variety of spiders. But Lottie…

“Uh, I hate to burst your bubble, but did you see all of him?”

She shifts uncomfortably. “Well, no. But what I did see is quite handsome and he has such a nice, soothing voice. We could talk for hours about books, or maybe even let him read to me if he wants,” she adds with a crooked smile.

“Girl, you’re arachnophobic, and he’s a giant spider with extra human parts.” I’m spelling it out bluntly here. It’s the kindest thing I can really do. “Literally. His lower body is one-hundred percent arachnid. Eight legs, pedipalps and all.”

She pales a little. “Are you sure? I just thought it was because they have very intense nocturnal habits for the most part and tend to be loners. I’ve been looking on the internet and haven’t found a lot of information on them. And he really seems very nice.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I groan as I pull out a chair at the table and sink down into it. “Remember when I told you that I did a work-exchange program in the fae realm?”

That had been an interesting experience. Since I work with a placement employment service when I’m not on vacation, I had been sent over to train in one of the busy elven hubs. The spider demons, as I knew them to be called, are actually a peculiar elven race, which accounts for their beauty—not that it’s acknowledged by many of the other elven races who look down on them—and are typically employed in meticulous work that other elven species don’t enjoy. I could easily see a bookish spider demon—or rather, draxalican—scholar now that I think of it, since the female who had hosted me was an alchemist and pharmacist by trade.

“Yeah, you said you were hosted over there to familiarize yourself with the training needs of various species.”

I nod. That much is certainly true. Although many high elves can be enormous pricks, their hubs at least afforded the opportunity to meet many different species who, for whatever reason, lent themselves to be employed there.

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