11. Chapter 11 A Frosty Reception

Chapter 11: A Frosty Reception

J oy

They told me Sarah’s parents are rich as God. She gets their hand-me-down charity invites all the time. But for me, the Frost King’s Gala is an exciting spectacle of glittering ice sculptures and twinkling lights.

Lucky for us, all these fancy people are here for a gala whose proceeds are slated to go to Others, so when I walk in with a bunch of huge orc firefighters and their mates, we’re met with tolerance, if not downright enthusiasm.

Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the ballroom, filled with the gentle tinkling of champagne flutes and the murmur of conversation. The scent of pine mingles with expensive perfumes, which gives an exotic atmosphere.

Grum shifts uncomfortably beside me, tugging at his rented tux. “This thing’s tighter than a tourniquet,” he grumbles, his low rumble sending shivers through me.

“Stop fidgeting,” I whisper, smoothing my gown. It was heinous as a bridesmaid dress, but after I removed the giant bow at the small of my back, it isn’t so bad. The deep emerald number hugs my curves before falling softly to my ankles.

“You look… good,” I tell him, but the word feels inadequate. In truth, Grum looks mouthwatering in his tux. The crisp white shirt is a stark contrast to his pine-green skin. Even his ever-present man bun is neater than usual… and dashing as always.

He grunts, running a thick finger between his collar and his neck as his amber eyes scan me up and down. I’m not exactly sure what the flicker in his eyes or his obvious gulp mean until he says, “You look amazing, Joy.”

My body responds with a wild, live-wire feeling that whirls through me, gathering energy until it pools between my thighs. Oh, my. It’s going to be a long night with me yearning after this hunky male, especially with the dreamy background music and him so close it’s like wearing a second skin.

Grum seems to return to his senses as the soft look in his amber eyes hardens and he growls, “Let’s see if we can find Sykes, collect some info, and leave. This bowtie’s choking me.”

“Alright, team,” Emma says, pulling us into a huddle, though we’re trying to look casual. “I’ve installed a special app on all our phones. It works like a walkie-talkie, so we can communicate discreetly.”

“Ooh, are we secret agents now?” Kam grins, his tusks glinting in the soft light. “Should I introduce myself as Bond, Kam Bond?”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Focus, bro. We’re here on a mission, remember?”

“Right, right,” Kam nods, trying to look serious but failing miserably. “So, what’s the plan?”

Thornn speaks up, his deep, authoritative voice rumbling. “We should split up, cover more ground. Sarah and I will take the east side of the ballroom.”

“Emma and I can handle the west,” Kam volunteers, puffing out his chest.

“That leaves the center for you two lovebirds,” Emma winks at Grum and me.

Grum growls, but he looks surprisingly tolerant of the comment that was obviously meant to press his buttons.

“Remember,” I add, “we’re looking for any information on Sykes or his operation. Keep your ears open and your drinks full—it’ll help you blend in.”

“And don’t forget to use the app if you spot Sykes or hear anything suspicious. You’ve all studied his photo on the Internet,” Emma reminds us. “Now, let’s go catch us a corrupt official!”

As we disperse, my excitement builds. I’ve watched a thousand police procedurals in my time. Now, I finally get to investigate something.

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.”

Something softens in Grum’s eyes. “Was?”

My smile falters a bit. “Yeah. He and mom passed away a few years ago.” It was over five years ago, yet sometimes it hits me out of the blue and I can’t talk about my parents without wanting to weep. I’m on the verge of breaking down when Grum’s hand tighten on mine, just a fraction.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. Then, with a gentleness that surprises me, he adds, “He’d be proud, you know. Of you, your store, your generosity.” His voice drops an octave as he adds, “Your passion.”

Though I was near tears a moment ago, I’m suddenly filled with the need to let Grum know me better.

“They were in a fatal crash right before Christmas.”

Understanding dawns in Grum’s eyes. “I’m so sorry to hear this.” He tips his head, compassion obvious on every line of his face. His tenderness surrounds me with warmth and makes me appreciate him even more. There’s no hint of the gruff Grinch I know, just a… comforting friend.

“Thanks, Grum. That means a lot.”

“Is that why you’re so…”

“Obsessed with Christmas?” I finish for him, my voice rueful. “Yeah. It was always such a warm holiday. My family didn’t have much money, but at Christmas it felt as though we were the richest people on earth. It was always such a warm family time. Deep connections, you know?”

Grum pulls me a bit tighter as his hand roams my back in a comforting gesture.

“Both my folks had life insurance through their work. It’s what gave me the down payment for the store. It’s how I keep a part of them alive.”

Grum is quiet for a moment, his thumb absently stroking my waist. “Must have been devastating.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it, as though he’s fallen into his own difficult memories.

“And you, Grum? Did your parents come with you when you were pulled to Earth?”

His voice is gruff with emotion when he finally answers. “They… they’re still on the other side of the Rift. I was just a kid when I landed here.”

My heart clenches. “Grum, I’m so-”

“Don’t,” he cuts me off, but there’s no bite to his words. “It was a long time ago. I only mention it because I understand your need to have a part of them with you always. The store you built? You should be proud of yourself.”

He stiffens a bit in my arms, and I tip my head to read his expression. He’s pondering something, and by the look of it, he’s wrestling with a decision.

“I, uh. I guess you turned your grief into something productive. I mean, the store and all the merry, merry, you know… stuff. My grief turned in the opposite direction. Watching you, I think my uh… bitterness is because I miss it, the warmth, the family, the uh, togetherness.”

I hug him tighter, so thankful he shared that with me. I know him well enough to realize how much it cost him to admit it.

Spearing him with my warmest gaze and speaking with all my sincerity, I say, “I hope you can find that, Grum. Find someone to have that sense of family with.”

He gulps and pulls me tighter. I’m not sure whether it’s to feel me closer, or so I can’t see the raw emotion so obvious in every line of his face.

We dance in silence, the music wrapping around us and blurring everyone else so it’s just Grum and me. Despite the sadness of our shared confessions, I can’t help but feel warmth blooming in my chest, spreading through my body like wildfire. For the first time, I feel like I’m meeting the real Grum. Perhaps some of his gruff facade is to keep people from seeing how vulnerable he is beneath his mask.

Our dance is slow, deliberate, as though it’s designed to awaken parts of my body that have long lain dormant. He leans down far enough for me to feel his warm breath on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. The heat between us spikes like wildfire, the heat scorching my insides like a living, breathing dragon that throbs with every beat of the music.

Grum tenderly brushes a stray hair from my face, fingers lingering on my cheek, tracing a path down to my neck. The touch is electric, every nerve ending coming alive under his fingertips. Our movements become more synchronized, communicating on a deeper level than mere words.

His thigh slides between mine, pressing gently, sending waves of heat through my core. I have to stifle a soft moan at the erotic contact. My arousal rises, a sweet ache that begs for more.

As the song winds down, its last notes lingering in the air, for a breathless moment, I think he might kiss me. I’m only vaguely surprised at how much I want this kiss. It feels like my desire has been building for ages as we’ve spent all this time together and he’s shown me some of his inner layers. The anticipation is almost unbearable, a delicious torture that leaves me craving more.

Then someone bumps into us, breaking the spell. Grum clears his throat, stepping back. “We should, uh… try to find Sykes.”

I nod, trying to ignore the disappointment curdling in my stomach. “Right. The mission.” I let him hear the disappointment in my voice.

As we make our way off the dance floor, I sneak glances at Grum. His jaw is set, but there’s a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Whatever’s growing between us, it’s clear this night has changed things.

Now, if we can just solve this mystery, maybe we can figure out what this thing is between us. I don’t know what to call it, but one thing is certain. It’s powerful.

As we make our way through the crowd, I can’t help but notice the stark contrast between the opulent ballroom and the world outside. Between Labyrinth playing—God knows how much this international sensation charges to play for a private party—and the bowls heaping with caviar and Wagyu beef sliders, this shindig must have cost several hundred dollars a person. It’s a far cry from the Integration Zone, where many struggle to put food on the table.

Grum must sense my sudden discomfort because he leans close, his breath warm against my ear. “You okay?”

I nod, forcing a smile. “Just… taking it all in. It’s a lot, you know?”

His amber eyes scan the room, a hint of understanding in their depths. “Yeah, I know. Makes you wonder how much good all this money could do if it was used differently.”

His words surprise me, and I find myself looking at him with new appreciation. There’s more to this gruff orc than meets the eye.

“Come on,” I say, tugging gently on his arm. “Let’s see if we can overhear anything useful.”

As we mingle, pretending to be just another couple enjoying the festivities, I notice how Grum’s presence affects those around us. Some guests eye him warily, while others seem fascinated. A few even approach us, curious about the imposing orc in a tuxedo, his ivory tusks gleaming even in the low light.

To my surprise, Grum handles the attention with unexpected grace. He’s polite, if a bit gruff, and I find myself impressed by his ability to navigate this unfamiliar social terrain.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” I murmur as we step away from a particularly chatty couple.

“Mmm.” He’s not paying attention, focused as he is on our target. “Sykes is there, on the move,” Grum’s tone is deep, serious.

My eyes narrow as I spot Sykes. As much as I want to be the one in the thick of things, Sykes is much closer to Thornn and Sarah.

When I use the walkie-talkies to inform everyone of Sykes’s location, Thornn’s deep voice grits out, “We’re already on it.”

“Should we follow?” I ask.

“I think having several huge orcs move in on him might spook him.” We have a brief confab with Kam and Emma and decide to meet up tomorrow to see what intel Thornn and Sarah gather.

“I guess that’s our cue to go?” My heart is thumping for a different reason than finding Sykes. Is it possible tonight might end with something more intimate than a gruff verbal exchange with the Grinch?