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Gods, I hoped he wasn’t a bad guy.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” he continued.

“Mathi has already volunteered.”

He grunted. It was not a happy sound... and would become even more so in that meeting tomorrow.

I bid him goodnight, then hung up and climbed out of bed. I needed to ring Eljin, but I also needed a good pot of tea. And food. I padded out to the kitchenette, put on the kettle, then made myself a bacon butty as I waited.

Once suitably fortified, I grabbed my phone and made the call a good part of me was dreading.

“Bethany,” Eljin said, his French origins accenting his warm tones just enough to be sexy. “This is an unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you?”

“I don’t suppose you want to meet for a nightcap?”

“I am always ready for a nightcap—your place or mine?”

I smiled, despite the inner tension. “Middle ground. Say at the Golden Lion pub in half an hour?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, but I do have a few questions.”

“Ah well, let’s hope I can answer them. I will see you soon.”

He hung up, and I couldn’t help sighing in relief. He didn’t sound like a man who was hiding anything but then, he was also a man I didn’t really know all that well—beyond the physical and from what Lugh had said about him, anyway.

I finished my tea, then pushed up and headed into my bedroom to get dressed. While it was bitterly cold outside—something I could feel in the wind’s howl as it ran across the roof and rattled the loose slates—I knew from experience the Golden Lion was generally overly warm. It was run by an elderly human couple who’d come from warmer climes, and though they’d been here for a good twenty years now, hadn’t yet gotten used to British winters. It was also Saturday night and likely to be packed, so after I’d pulled on jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved, lightweight crop top, I rang ahead and booked a table for two. Luckily for me, they had a corner one available.

I sent Eljin a text letting him know, then called an Uber and headed out. The wind was indeed bitter, but the sky was clear, and stars burned brightly overhead. I drew in a deeper breath that nigh on froze my lungs, but somehow felt better for it. Everything would be okay. More than okay. So said the night.

I really, really hoped that turned out to be true.

It only took ten minutes to get across to the Lion, and the noise and warmth hit me the minute I pushed through the lovely old wood-and-glass door. There was a three-piece band playing on the small stage to my right, and while I’d never heard of them before, they were obviously popular if the number of people singing along with them was anything to go by.

A dark-haired waitress appeared out of the throng, asked if I had a booking, and then led me over to a small booth in a shadowed corner that was well away from the stage and the hearth. Once she’d taken my order, she smiled, revealing dimples, and said, “I’ll be back in five.”

If she got through the crowd to the bar and back again in five, I’d strip naked and dance on the table.

And I hoped I hadn’t just tempted fate. She did like a challenge.

I crossed my arms and leaned on the table, my foot tapping along with the catchy melody. The Lion had been a staple of my life as a younger pixie simply because it was one of the few venues that not only rocked live music every night, but also provided table service. From the demographics of the crowd tonight, they were still pulling in a younger crowd. Which, considering it was the middle of winter and tourists were few and far between, was brilliant to see.

The waitress appeared exactly five and a half minutes later and deposited my double whiskey and Eljin’s French 75 cocktail—which was a rather potent mix of gin, champagne, and lemon juice—on the table. Once I’d paid for them both, she whisked back into the crowd to deliver the remaining drinks.

He appeared a few minutes later, looking decidedly delicious in black jeans that hugged his long legs and a leather jacket that sat nicely across his shoulders. Like most Tàileach pixies, he was golden skinned and on the leaner side, build wise, than us Aodhán. His face was perhaps a tad too sharp to be called handsome, but his eyes were the most delicious shade of old gold I’d ever seen, and his mouth was definitely made for kissing.

I knew that from experience.

He slid into the booth beside me and kissed my left cheek, his lips warm against my skin. “Thank you for the drink.”

“Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

“It is hardly a chore, my dear Bethany.” He picked up his cocktail and took a sip. Appreciation flitted across his expression. “That is near perfect.”

“There’s a reason this place is always packed, and it’s not just the excellent atmosphere.”

“We shall have to come here more often, then. A decent 75 has to date been hard to find on this island of yours.”