Autumn Feast - Charlie Richards Page 0,17

do the same. I know it won’t be anything like what you planned, but this is better than nothing.”

Beck huffed. “All right, all right. I’ll work with this, and I’ll see what I can do.” Which wouldn’t be much since the living room was smaller than the one they had at home. Beck had planned a lot of lights and sounds, as well as spooky effects, but he wasn’t even sure where he could hide the projectors here. He couldn’t. He was going to have to redo all his plans, dammit.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Griffith added. “I’m sorry. I’m sure we can find someone else if you want to pass, or maybe skip the music and whatnot entirely.”

Beck resisted the urge to slap Griffith upside the head, only because he didn’t know the man that well yet. Griffith and Lawrence had only gotten together recently, and while he was a good man—working at the shelter was a sign of that—Beck had no idea how he’d react. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I’ll do it. As long as you’re aware of the fact that it’s not going to be as good as what I had planned.” Beck had never backed down from a challenge, and this was exactly that.

Griffith smiled. “I know, and I know it’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. But it’s okay, Beck. These kids aren’t used to parties and this kind of fun. The shelter is always hard-pressed for money, even with the donations.”

Beck didn’t point out that if Griffith wanted, he could probably get his grandfather to donate enough to keep the shelter wealthy for several years. It wasn’t Griffith’s money, not yet, and he was doing what he could to help. It was already much more than a lot of people did, and it made Beck feel like he didn’t do enough.

He cleared his throat. “Well, this is going to be the best party any of them has ever been to.”

Griffith’s smile was gentle. “Good. They deserve it.”

Beck got to work. He could hear other people working around the house, in the kitchen, and the hallway, and he knew they were all doing everything they could for the kids—teenagers, really. But whatever happened, they’d have a great Halloween, and that was the important part of this.

“What did you have in mind in here?” Armand said as he wandered in. He was eating a cupcake that he’d no doubt stolen from Graham. The cupcake itself was green, while the frosting was orange and black with small sugar spiders on it. Or at least Beck hoped they were made of sugar.

“We’re going to keep the room dark, of course, and set up a few mannequins in the corners. I have too many, so we’ll have to choose. What do you think? Vampire? Mummy? Zombie?”

Armand wrinkled his nose. “Maybe not the zombie? I mean, I don’t know how true to life it is, but we’re going to have stuff to eat, and they’re not exactly appetizing.” He leaned toward Beck to kiss him, but Beck slapped a hand over his mouth. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“That cupcake has spiders on it.”

Armand rolled his eyes. “Not real ones.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Armand raised the cupcake and looked at it closer. Beck was pretty sure the spiders were fake, but he still grimaced when Armand shrugged and gave the cupcake another bite.

“Whatever they are, they’re tasty.”

“That’s because Graham baked them, and he’s going to kick your ass if he discovers you’re stealing them. They’re for the kids.”

Armand’s face started shifting, and Beck knew what he was going to do before he did it. He slapped the back of his mate’s head and glared at him. “No shifting into a teenager, Armand.”

Armand pouted. “Why not? I’m hungry.”

“Because I wouldn’t be able to have sex with you again if I ever saw a teenage you run around.”

Armand gaped. “That’s a good reason.”

“I know it is.”

“No shifting, then. But I want a kiss.”

“Not if you keep eating that creepy stuff.”

“It’s sugar, honey.”

Beck had to laugh, and yes, he had to kiss his mate. Armand could be ridiculous sometimes, but he cared, and that was what mattered.

A loud beeping interrupted them—which was probably good, since they could get carried away sometimes—and Armand jerked away and dropped his cupcake. He looked forlorn, but before he could whine about it, Beck noticed smoke coming from the hallway.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, pushing Armand away and rushing toward the kitchen, because of course that was where