The hum of voices from the other patrons quieted to a hush, although the group of giggly Sidhe girls found it impossible to stifle their excited laughter. I was almost surprised that there wasn’t a trumpet to herald his arrival. Honestly, for someone who was in his position for no other reason than the circumstances of his birth, the reaction he received was ridiculous.

I twisted my head slightly so that I could see the table reflected in the mirror hanging across the bar. I counted seven people in total: the three who’d entered first, two women, a cheeky-looking dimpled friend and Byron himself. They were all Sidhe and, by the insignia they were sporting, all from Clan Moncrieffe. That was good. A tight-knit group who kept to themselves would be less likely to know about me – even if I had once had the displeasure of meeting Byron himself.

Surreptitiously – and still using the reflection in the mirror – I eyed him. He had an easy smile which contradicted my memory of him. His bronze hair and golden skin remained the same but he’d definitely grown into his body. Trying to remain dispassionate, I took in the roped muscles on his arms. His clothing, while casual, was as well-designed to display his buff physique as my dress was designed to show off other, uh, attributes. Nah. He wasn’t that good-looking. Maybe he was alright if you liked your men golden and muscled and charismatic. Shite. Okay, he was as sexy as hell.

I noted a small scar underneath his eye that I didn’t remember. It must be fairly recent. Unfortunately, it worked for him, taking away his disturbing perfection and giving him more of a rakish air. Probably the same air that the stubble around his jawline was meant to provide. I leaned slightly to one side to get a better glimpse of it. And that was when I realised he was watching me right back.

I choked slightly as Byron raised up his glass in greeting. Don’t blush, Integrity.  I raised my fake champagne to him and offered a distant smile. Then I caught the bartender’s attention and engaged him in a conversation about the weather. I didn’t look into the mirror again.

It didn’t take the three Sidhe girls long to make their first advance. The prettiest one waltzed up and, although I didn’t see what she did, her voice was loud enough to make it clear that her approach was welcome. In less time than it took the bartender to pour me another drink, her two friends joined in, pulling over chairs and simpering. I remained aloof. If he liked the chase, then that’s what he’d get.