A week.
A week after Mike had told Scott about Mikael. And in that week, his apprentice had fucked his husband.
He didn’t know whether to be angry or turned on. Normally, in the old days, he would have hurt that kid so badly that he would never do it again. But this was Scott. And Kenny.
Grim lay across the very uncomfortable couch at the base and looked up at the sky through the dome. Scott loved him. Kenny, well, he had trust issues. And sex issues. If Kenny could trust Scott, that was an important step. But if Kenny was using Scott…
Oh, hell hath no fury.
Grim lifted his head and banged it on the couch. Stop going down that path. It’s not worth it getting worked up.
The phone rang. Grim sighed, and fished it out of his pocket. “Y’ello.”
“Mike.” The voice was deep, commanding. An alpha male.
Grim sat up. “Blake. Hey, buddy, what’s up?”
“About this firebrand of yours.”
Speak of the demon and lo, the universe falls into line. “Pyrestarter?”
“Him. Have you worked with him in the field?”
“He’s my apprentice.”
“That explains everything.”
“What?”
“He’s good. He’s very good. Smarter than he makes himself out to be. And a hornball.”
“He’s a teenager, what do you expect?” Oh, by the way, Blake, he fucked Scott. What do you think of that? The old Grim would have said it, just to cause the trouble. Now, Mike tread on higher ground, or so he wanted to sorely believe. He bit his tongue.
“Uh huh,” said Blake. “That’s my report on him. Anybody else?”
“Hey, um…” Would you skullfuck my apprentice and teach him a lesson?
“What?”
“Nothing. Thanks, Blake.”
“The bill’s in the mail.” He hung up.
Grim lay down again, the phone against his chest. Goddamn, it was so hard to be good.