I snorted, unsurprised. “I might grab a shower first—can I borrow a T-shirt so I can rinse out my undies and bra?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why not just raid your clothes stash?”

“Because then I’d have to replace them.”

He rolled his eyes. “Women.”

I bounced up and kissed his cheek, and then headed into the bathroom.

After the shower, I picked up the TV remote and started scrolling through Netflix until I found something I hadn’t seen before. By the time midnight rolled past, my eyelids were starting to droop. I checked on Lugh, told him I was off to bed, and got a vague wave in return.

Situation normal, I thought with a smile, and headed into the spare bedroom. I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

The sharp ringing woke me who knows how many hours later. I fumbled around on the bedside table without opening my eyes, then hit answer and said, “Whoever this is, you’d better have a good reason for ringing at this ungodly hour.”

The laughter that rolled down the line was decidedly sexy, and my hormones woke with a vengeance. Which did them no good when Cynwrig was at the other end of the phone rather than in bed with me.

“I would hardly call seven in the morning ungodly.”

His voice was smooth, velvety smoke, and I resisted the urge to sigh in pleasure. Like most dark elves, he was blessed with not only good looks but an inner magnetism that made him nigh on irresistible. Light elves were divinely beautiful beings, but dark elves were sex on legs. They could make the iciest of maidens weak with wanting without the slightest bit of effort.

No one would ever accuse me of being an ice maiden, so it came as no surprise to any of my friends that I’d jumped into bed with him at the very first opportunity.

Of course, he was absolutely keeping me “close” to garner information about our hunt for the Claws, but that was okay. Despite the attraction that burned between us, I was in many respects doing the same thing. Having a dark elf with access to the fae council, the night council, and the black market—which his people basically controlled—on our side had already proven handy. I had no doubt it would continue that way as our hunt for the Claws and Mom’s killers deepened.

“Especially,” he continued softly, in that same sexy “I can make you come just by talking to you” tone, “for a woman who runs a business that opens at eleven most days.”

I pushed upright and tried to get a grip. “I had a late night, and Ingrid is in charge of the tavern today.”

“Any particular reason for either?”

It was casually said, but I couldn’t help but notice the slight sharpening in his tone. We might be casual lovers, but that didn’t mean he liked competition.

Not that we’d had any sort of discussion about our liaison or what—if anything—either of us were expecting out of it other than sex. We just hadn’t had the time. I guessed if it went on for more than a few weeks, we’d have to. Casual was absolutely fine, but the last thing I needed was getting into another relationship where I was the only one not playing the field.