Milo’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of red, making him look even more enticing than usual. Quirion tried to slap his amorous thoughts down and only yielded dubious success.
“It’s the Society for the Betterment of the World. I’ve never heard of them before, but apparently Quirion was a founding member? That means it has to be good, yes?”
Alerion glanced at Quirion, clearly looking for a diplomatic answer. Quirion knew his father had more information about the whole affair than he let on, which annoyed Quirion, because he didn’t need members of his family criticizing his decisions even if they didn’t do it out loud. The king of all demons had an uncanny knack forradiatinghis feelings on certain subjects.
“I’m sure it’s…exceptional.” Alerion tapped one of his fingertips against his lower lip. “They do have a lot of money to throw around, and I can’t imagine a more worthy cause than your research.”
Milo beamed, soaking up the fatherly vibes Alerion was sending his way. Despite his father’s many shortcomings, Quirion felt a rush of warmth for his sire simply for making Milo happy. He shook his head. Normally, he wasn’t that sappy. Spending an entire afternoon in Sammy’s presence did things to his common sense. Stupid things.
“Yes, yes, and if we want to get this letter done anytime soon, Sammy and I have to get back to work.” Quirion shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth, glancing expectantly at Sammy, who nodded and shoved his plate—which was still almost half full—toward Dre. His brother shot Quirion an indignant look, making it clear with a frown how much he disapproved of his mate being rushed during a meal. But it was too late. Sammy was already back on track to their mission and Quirion showed Dre his tongue. Dre responded by miming throttling and Quirion felt ecstatic. He got to help Milo, work on a letter, annoy his brother and eat delicious seafood, all in one day. Perhaps spending time with the family now and then wasn’t all bad.
Chapter Five
At midnight, the letter was finally done. Milo sighed in relief. After seemingly endless discussions during which he and Dre had been banned to the peanut gallery, two trips to Quirion’s library, one to Japan and another to Bavaria to get more, and different, paper, the letter lay on the table, written in Sammy’s beautiful calligraphy, the ink the perfect shade of bluish black—according to Quirion and Sammy—Milo and Dre were convinced simply using ink from the next stationery shop would have been sufficient, but they knew better than to even utter word in that regard—the letter was done. All Milo had to do now was sign it before they would put it into the envelope and place it in the post office. He eyed the paper warily.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Of course! You need to sign it, otherwise this Beverly woman might think it isn’t from you.” Sammy nudged him closer to the table.
“I think she’ll think that anyway, because I’m a scientist and we are not known for our prowess with quill and ink.” Milo could feel his doubts mounting. “What if she dismisses the letter because I’ve clearly done it with help?”
Quirion put a hand on Milo’s shoulder, the heat from that point of contact shooting directly into his groin, though by now he was used to the effect the demon had on him and was able to not embarrass himself. “I can understand your worries, Milo, but trust me. I know Beverly. Yes, she will know it wasn’t you who wrote the letter, but she will see the effort you put into it.Plus, she’s going to be curious how you managed to meet her expectations so perfectly. I can guarantee she’ll want to meet you.”
Milo took another hesitant step, eyeing the quill Sammy was holding out to him.
“And if they really drop you, because, you know, they don’t like being outdone by a mere scientist, there’s other funding to be had.” Dre sounded matter-of-fact, which didn’t help Milo’s nerves at all. But he had to get home and back to Massachusetts because he had classes to teach tomorrow, or rather, later today, and Quirion wouldn’t bring him unless the letter was finished. He grabbed the quill.
“Don’t listen to him, Milo. My brother has no idea how the minds of people like Beverly Nyx work. You’re much better off listening to me.”
Knowing there was no escape no matter what he might want or not, Milo dipped the tip of the quill into the ink, put it on the paper and signed with a scratching sound, because apparently even holding a damn quill was a lot more complicated than Sammy and Quirion made it look.
“Well done!” Quirion beamed, Sammy clapped his hands, and Dre made a face telegraphing how much he, too, wanted this evening to be over. Milo eyed the chicken scratch that was his signature.Yeah, no way Beverly Nyx is going to think I wrote that letter.
Then Sammy brought a candle and sealing wax, a nice light blue that had no deeper meaning at all, according to Quirion. The letter was sealed and an equally neutral sigil—a pattern that reminded Milo a bit of a triskelion—was pressed into the cooling wax. Milo pocketed the letter, thanked Sammy for his help and Dre for his hospitality, earning a delighted hug from the former and a dramatic eyeroll from the latter, so business as usual, and snuggled up to Quirion when his demon opened space and timeto bring him first back to the little house he shared with his mother in Beaconville, then to take him to his apartment close to the campus of MIT. As free days went, this one had been a bit more hectic than Milo would have preferred, but he’d gotten to spend it with his favorite demon and the man he viewed as an older brother and best friend in one, so it wasn’t that bad.
* * * *
The following week was stressful. Milo had a minor breakthrough in his research when he realized his experimental nanobots were exhibiting behavioral patterns known from bees and ants. The next logical step was to create the equivalent of a queen to direct the bots, which was where the breakthrough hit another wall, because the bots refused to acknowledge the computer as their queen. Milo was reading up on the latest studies about social insects, hoping to find a clue how to proceed, when the door to his lab was yanked open by none other than Devon Merrybone, useless son of one of the not-so-useless main donors for MIT.
“Abber, I see you’re still clinging to that dead-end research of yours.”
“Merrybone, I see you’re still not researching anything at all.”
Devon had been a thorn in Milo’s side from day one at MIT. With the unerring instincts of a true bully, the guy had sniffed out Milo’s weak self-esteem and had made derogating comments whenever he came near him. If it hadn’t been for Quirion and Sammy, who had built Milo up time and again when he was on the verge of simply giving up, he wouldn’t be sitting in his own lab now. With time he had learned that Devon’s treatment of him got worse the more successful he was, so he had had an additional motivator to outshine all his fellow students. Every time he left Devon in the dust—which wasn’tthathard, considering the man preferred partying to studying any timeof the day—his fellow student and now colleague became more obnoxious. And even though his bark sometimes still hurt, the knowledge how envious Devon was of Milo and his success was like a balm on said injuries.
Now, too, his features turned into an angry grimace before he managed to get them back under control.
“Well, the difference is, my research is going to kick off come the next semester while yours is going to shrivel up and die. I just got confirmation that my expedition to the Bahamas has been green-lighted, which means most of your funding is gone.” A malevolent smile appeared on Devon’s admittedly handsome face. He looked like the typical all-American football hero, all blond hair, blue eyes, and impressive muscles—for a human. Milo knew whatrealmuscles looked like, so he had stopped being impressed by jocks before he even met Devon.
And since the man wasn’t telling him anything Milo didn’t know already—although he did admit it still stung, knowing the university valued his work so little—he managed to keep a neutral face.
“Most of my funding from MIT, you mean.” Even though he hadn’t received confirmation that he was on the list for possible funding by SBW, he couldn’t resist placing this little barb. It might be petty, and beneath him, Sammy would most certainly argue along these lines, but Quirion, Dre, Declan and Troy would most definitely give him a slap on the shoulder and tell him to enjoy his thrills where he could get them.
Devon stared at him open-mouthed, amping Milo’s thrill way up into the stratosphere. The paranormal apex predators definitely knew what they were talking about.
“What…what do you mean, funding from MIT? Do you have other sources? I never heard about it!” He sounded so indignant about the fact, Milo did nothing to hold in his condescending chuckle.
“Why would you? My research is dead-end, remember? Not interesting at all. And since it doesn’t come from MIT, your daddy wouldn’t know about it anyway.”
