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She snorted. “Light elves ain’t ones to keep females as friends unless they’re still fucking them, and I thought you had more sense than that.”
I grinned. “Oh, he definitely wants back in, but it’s not going to happen.”
“Good, but I’ll keep within shouting distance in case he decides to get handsy.”
She obviously wasn’t going to believe he was capable of behaving himself, so I simply said, “Thanks.”
She nodded. “I’ll let him in, then.”
“You locked him out?”
“Saw him approaching from the lane when I was down in the storeroom.” She shrugged. “Didn’t want him in here hassling you unless you were warned and ready.”
I laughed. “Good to know you’ve still got my back.”
She nodded and headed back down to the ground floor to let him in. He appeared a few minutes later but didn’t step all the way into the office—it was a tiny space, and even though he fell more on the lean and sinewy side rather than possessing Cynwrig’s magnificent mass, by light elf standards he wasn’t exactly small, either.
He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the doorframe, his golden skin and hair contrasting sharply against the darker wood. He was wearing a sweater the same summer blue as his eyes, but rather than his usual crisp black pants and shiny shoes, he was in jeans and well-worn brown leather boots. While I’d always loved it when Mathi went for a more casual look, I knew he only ever did so when there was “less than savory business” at hand.
Which sometimes meant nothing more than a trip to one of the many forest plantations the Dhar-Val family owned. They were one of the largest silviculture businesses in the UK thanks to their formidable ability to manipulate the energy of flora to triple its growth rate. Mathi, despite the fact he was the son of a second son, was the group’s director, thanks to an uncle who’d retired some eight years ago without male issue.
Of course, sometimes jeans and old boots meant darker deeds were afoot. The Myrkálfar might have the reputation for criminality, but the Ljósálfar were hardly angels despite the fact they looked like them.
“Good to know that some things never change,” he said, warm voice amused. “Ingrid still hates me.”
“Don’t feel maligned. She hates most light elves.”
“Then why work here, in a place that is favored by the foresters?”
“We pay good wages,” I said. “It makes up for her having to deal with your lot on a regular basis. Why are you here, Mathi?”
He raised a pale eyebrow and somehow made the motion look sexy. “Aren’t I allowed to visit an old friend?”
“In the middle of the day and dressed like that?”
He laughed, a sound that ran warmly down my spine. I might have broken up with this man, and I might want nothing more than friendship from him, but my hormones still hungered for his touch.
My hormones needed to be bitch slapped.
I mean seriously, they not only had Cynwrig to play with, but the possibility of a very eligible pixie on the horizon. They needed to get over the past.
“I admit it,” he said, “I’m here to ask a favor.”
“What sort of favor?”
“One that could be beneficial for us both.”
The twinkle in his eyes suggested he knew exactly where my thoughts immediately went, but I didn’t bite. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I have a lead on Aram, and I believe we should go investigate it.”
“‘We’ meaning my knives rather than me.”
“Given your knives cannot wield themselves, you are just as important as them.”
“Good to know where I stand,” I said, voice wry. “And in case you need reminding, the last time we went after Aram, his office exploded, we were almost killed by the blast, and his remains were subsequently found in the burned-out shell.”
“It wasn’t his body. The autopsy came back this morning and confirmed it.”
