Page 5 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs (Haven Ever After #8)

My goal for today is to get to the stadium as quickly as possible. I’m due to meet Arkan there in an hour, but I’d like to see it alone first…without outside perspective. It’s Arkan’s job to sell me on this haven and the team, but I like to form my own opinions irrespective of the sales pitch.

Only a few monsters sit on benches inside the station—a big shifter male with two children, and a centaur female resting on a long, curved bench. They glance up at me as I make my way out of the portal itself.

When I stalk across the big open portal station building toward the door, whispers follow. My size is enough to garner attention on a good day, but couple that with my reputation as a skyball coach, and you’ve got a recipe for lots of attention.

Not that I mind. I live for the attention. But I told no one at HQ about this trip, and I don’t plan to make a big fuss out of my presence here. For all the Evertons know, I’m here on vacation for now.

Grinning, I sail through the door and into a beautifully forested area.

A singular road leads toward the main drag, according to the map I studied before my trip.

It’s crisp here. Ever’s one of a few havens with the same weather pattern year-round.

I’m sure on the one hand, that’s nice, but it makes me think of how Pine Gulch simply follows Montana’s natural weather patterns.

I fucking love the Gulch’s snowy, frigid winters.

It’s a quarter-hour walk through beautiful quiet forest to downtown Ever.

The first business I see, apart from a doctor’s cottage, is the original Higher Grounds location, a two-story brick thing with a cute red-and-white-striped awning.

I’m desperate for a latte, so I stop in.

It’s packed full, coffee dripping and popping and machines sputtering as the vampires behind the bar craft their famous monster-specific concoctions.

It takes nearly another quarter hour to order, and a few minutes after that to get my simple order. Twenty minutes to get a coffee is absurd.

Arkan mentioned that Ever’s growing, and it’s easy to see it’s true. The vampires behind the counter hustled the entire time I was there. It’s obviously bustling here. Hearth HQ has faced similar growing pains since the portal station opened, although not to the degree of other havens.

I consider the line out the door a good sign, actually.

Smaller havens don’t usually opt into the skyball program because it requires a certain amount of investment, and Ever’s on the smaller size for a monster haven.

Growth brings money, and money makes developing a skyball program a whole lot easier.

Heading for the door, I take my first sip of the Azuro dark roast and groan in satisfaction.

There’s nothing like Azuro coffee beans, and these are roasted to perfection.

Even though the shop’s busy, whispers follow me here, too.

A few furtive glances and finger points later and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna end up signing at least one autograph before I get out the door.

Coffee in one hand and my bag in the other, I shoulder my way out of the shop without being stopped and head up the cross street, Sycamore, toward the skyball stadium. The Community Garden is on my left as I walk, and Catherine’s beautiful Annabelle Inn sits across from it.

The Annabelle’s pink siding and ornate gingerbread trim make me think of her owner. Memories from my younger years flood back. Cath and I dated pretty seriously for a while. It came to an unfortunate end—she was the one who got away—but it’s been a long time since that.

She was the hottest sex of my life, if I’m honest, and I’ve taken plenty of lovers since then.

My cock hardens in my sheath, threatening to make an inappropriate display as I rein in my errant thoughts. Now isn’t the time to think about the succubus who stole my heart and shattered it when she moved on. No, that was a long time ago.

I sip my latte as I continue up Sycamore and past rows of adorable cottages. Ever really is quaint to the max—the polar opposite of the cold, dark, and snowy haven that’s been my home these last few centuries.

Rounding a corner, I find the skyball stadium off in the distance across a giant field.

I’m guessing the field is for parking. Ever hosted the skyball finals last year, but hasn’t hosted a game since.

As I walk across the field, it’s clear no one has parked here in a long time as grass is growing in the tire tracks.

It’s a missed opportunity. Hosted games mean money and advertising, both of which are good for local businesses, assuming the haven wants to grow.

Of course, not every haven wants that. Many don’t even have a skyball team.

There are twenty-four teams at this point, though, so a solid half of the monster haven system has opted into the skyball program.

But again, it takes money and commitment from haven leadership to produce a skyball program that’s any good.

Not to mention the haven itself has to be well designed to attract and keep star players.

That could be a problem in Ever. The downtown’s pretty small, and there aren’t a ton of businesses to accommodate a large population of monsters. Not all superstar players want the quiet, slow pace of life that Ever seems to offer.

The stadium soars high above me, all dark stone with giant curved archway entries every twenty feet or so. Green-and-gold flags announce the home team as the Ever Misfits. I leave my bag by one of the doors and head into the stadium’s interior.

It’s brand-new, built last year for the finals.

It’s got a troll’s touch in the way the stone seems hewn directly out of a mountainside.

I’d wager a troll worked with this haven’s former Keeper to build this place.

I run my fingers along the beautiful stone as I walk around the outer hallway where most of the concessions usually are.

By the time I reach the far side, I’ve got to give it to this stadium’s designer. It’s gorgeous and well-thought-out. There’s plenty of access to the concession locations, and the hallway itself is nice and wide and tall—which is important for winged monsters who often prefer to fly versus walk.

The clip-clop of hooves announces Arkan’s arrival. I turn to find the tall centaur walking up the hallway toward me. He grins as he reaches a hand out to shake mine.

His colorful shirt catches my eye. I squint to read it, then snort with laughter as I shake his hand.

He grabs at the shirt and holds the fabric wide as if to help me see it better. “‘ I’m a Fucking Delight.’ Wren Hector, our resident green witch, gave this to me and said it suited my cheerful disposition.” He winks. “Imagine if she’d met me before I became Ever’s Keeper.”

My smile goes softer at that. It’s well known that haven keeper training strips keepers of most of their emotion, leaving them with an intense focus on rational, logical thought processes to help them make decisions more effectively.

Despite that formal training for his role, Arkan’s always remained sunnier and more positive than the average monster.

“So,” he continues, waving at the stadium around us, “this is the stadium. It was built last year by Ohken Stonesmith and the former Keeper, both of whom are casual players on the team. I was planning to give you a tour, but you’ve seen this much of it.

Let’s take a peek at the war room and locker rooms and what would be your office.

” He nudges me in the side. “It’s extra tall.

Your horns won’t even hit the ceiling. That would be a nice change, eh? ”

I snort in agreement, and he continues on, “I’ve got the team coming in half an hour. You mentioned wanting to see a short practice, and they’re excited to meet you.”

“Lead the way, kid.”

He snorts and swishes his tail at me. “Not a kid anymore. Not hardly.”

I shrug. “You’ll always be a snarky, better-than-he-should-be-for-the-effort-he-puts-in player to me.”

Arkan laughs. “I’ll admit I was distracted on the best of days. I pulled through during the games, thank fuck.”

We share a laugh at that, walking toward one end of the stadium. Arkan badges us into a private hallway that leads to the first locker room.

And it…is…amazing.

One entire wall is one-way glass, allowing the players to see the field without ticketholders seeing in.

The view is incredible, the entire field visible from inside.

The war room’s even better, sitting at ground level with a wide screen showing the entire field from above.

It’s ideally suited for the type of planning I like to do.

Of course, Arkan already knows this. I suspect this part of the war room is an addition meant to entice me.

And it fucking does.

What doesn’t thrill me is half an hour later when I meet the team.

I know most of them—it’s my job to know even those players who aren’t full-time—but there’s not a single monster on this team who’s full-time or even wants to be.

Not only that, but a vast majority of them seem almost skeptical about having me here for a trial period.

I plant both hands on my hips as I stare at the row of centaurs, gargoyles, and a big green troll who eyes me with his arms crossed.

The only one who looks excited to be here is Hana Canterbury, Arkan’s beautiful centaur mate.

She was a kickass player at the academy too.

She didn’t go pro, but she could have. My wheels start spinning, wondering if it’s possible to get her to consider full-time now.

I’m not sure how much extra responsibility she takes on as the Keeper’s mate.

“I’d like to see what you’re capable of.” I count the players out. “Split into two teams, and let’s play a quarter. Even though most of you aren’t full-timers, you’re what I’d have to work with in the beginning. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

Arkan stands by my side as a few muttered grumblings reach us. I glance up at him. “This whole team needs to be rebuilt.”

Arkan frowns, sucking at his teeth. “I did tell you we didn’t have any pros, Manorin. I was serious.”

I match his expression, lifting my whistle and biting it between my teeth.

Arkan holds a skyball under one arm. Cantering to the center of the field, he winks at his wife before tossing the skyball in the air. The flurry of activity happens fast, the bridge troll executing a perfect flip as he snatches the ball off the ground.

Damnit, he’s good, and, of course, he doesn’t want to be full-time.

As I watch the team play, it’s clear there’s a lot of talent despite the fact that, to my amazement, they haven’t practiced since last year’s skyball finals.

I debate if I should bother with any other practices while I’m here.

There’s no point to piss off the locals, considering not one of them would remain on the team if I get this job and accept it.

One thing is clear—building a skyball program in Ever would be a ton of fucking work. This isn’t a rebuild. We are literally starting from level zero.

Sigh.