Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ari
Tonight’s been less weird than I thought it was going to be. After my guilt-ridden confession to Felix, I was able to relax and get out of my head. It helps that I know everyone pretty well—except Felix, and that’s something I want to change.
As in, I really want to change it. I want to know him better than I do now. Better than anyone else. Listening to him talk at dinner, catching up with his friends, asking them the kind of questions that show he listens to them and is interested in their lives… made me jealous.
I stare into my own eyes in the bathroom mirror, slowly shaking my head.
It’s ridiculous for me to be jealous. Felix and I are still in the very early stages of friendship, and I can’t expect for us to know each other as well and be as close as he is with his friends.
I can’t expect to be the center of his attention even when we’re in a group.
That’s more than friendship, and he’s given me no signs to indicate that he’d be interested in that.
Of course, I haven’t exactly sent him any signals, either.
I could do that and see where it takes us.
I should do that. I would do that, if our friendship weren’t so new.
Because, as weird as it may sound, I don’t want to lose Felix from my life completely.
If he’s not interested in a romantic, intimate relationship with me, I’d rather we stayed friends.
Which leaves me exactly where I was when I came into this bathroom ten minutes ago.
Sighing, I dry my hands and square my shoulders. Time to get back out to the living room before anyone starts to think I have gastrointestinal problems—and for an elf, that’s a bigger deal than it would be for any of the Earth species.
I open the door and start down the hallway but only make it a few steps before Jared’s words sink in.
“…just saying, he seems to be sympathetic to your plight. The two of you are getting along so well now, and, well, you can’t say it would be a hardship for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Felix snaps, sounding so defensive that I have to suppress the urge to race in there and leap to his aid.
“It means you’re hot for Ari and we all know it,” Dáithí declares. “Come on, Fe. We were at the hockey game last week—remember, the one where you whimpered and got turned on just looking at his back?”
I freeze.
“I can’t help what the hormones do to me!”
“Exactly,” Jared interjects calmly. “That’s our point.”
“He knows what’s going on with you, sweetie, and he obviously wants to help. Maybe ask him to help with the sex hormones the old-fashioned way.”
I’ve always adored Dáithí. He’s the best person I know.
Should I send him a thank-you gift? I stay as still as I can—and, given my training, that’s very still and quiet—and wait to hear what’s said next.
If Felix was turned on by me, that could be my chance.
I’d be okay with being used for my body and sexual prowess, if it gave me the chance to impress him with my other qualities in the meantime.
I’ve been told I’m an excellent boyfriend, except for my inability to open up about my past. That’s almost a direct quote from one of my previous partners—it haunts me almost as much as the past I don’t like to talk about.
“You’re joking, right?” Felix’s reply is so incredulous that my hopes sink. “I can’t do that!”
“Why not?” Jared asks gently.
“Because it’s weird and creepy! He’s being a friend, and you want me to take advantage of that? It’s sleazy.”
“Ughhhh,” Dáithí groans. “Nobody’s saying take advantage. I don’t even see how you could—Ari’s a grown adult, and you don’t have any power over him. He’s had casual sex before, you know, so I don’t understand why you think there’s a problem with offering him some.”
Felix doesn’t answer, but both his friends sigh.
“Coward,” Dáithí says. “You can’t hide from this conversation forever.”
“Dáithí,” Jared chides. “We can’t make him do it. Felix, we’re not trying to bully you into this. We just thought it was a good idea.”
Felix still doesn’t reply, and I make myself continue down the hallway. I’ve been gone too long, and it doesn’t seem that I’m going to hear anything else of interest.
Pausing outside the door long enough to ensure I’m not wearing a disappointed expression, I take a breath and enter the room.
My gaze lands on Felix, and I immediately understand why Dáithí said he was hiding from the conversation.
“Oh,” I breathe. He’s shifted into his felid form and is curled up on the same sofa cushion he was sitting on before. I never knew a cat could be so pretty.
“Felix has decided to have some kitty time,” Jared says dryly.
“Yes. Is he okay?” I can’t stop myself from asking, even though I already know why he shifted.
Dáithí shrugs. “He’s fine. Just stubborn and frustrated.”
The hissed snarl that comes from Felix’s mouth is vicious and… mesmerizing? This is somewhat disconcerting. I’ve seen a lot of shifted felids since I came to Earth. Why is Felix having such an impact on me?
“Can I sit by him?” I ask, and all three of them look at me as though I’m crazy.
“He can understand you,” Jared reminds me, and I flush.
“Of course, I know that. I’m so…” I turn to Felix. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
His pink tongue darts out to lick his whiskers, and I swallow hard.
Then he extends his paw to pat the cushion beside him, his beautiful cat gaze on me, and I take that as an invitation to join him.
“Thank you.” I sit carefully, making sure to give him space, but even as the conversation resumes, he edges closer to me. Is… is this a subtle way of sending me a message?
Then his head nudges my hand, hard, and Jared breaks off midsentence with an exasperated sound.
“You cats are all the same, aren’t you? It doesn’t matter whether you shift form or not, you’re all monsters for being petted.”
I blink down at Felix in surprise. “You want me to pet you?”
He nudges my hand again, and I take that as a yes.
His fur is ridiculously soft under my fingers, a few shades lighter than his hair in biped form. The rich, warm brown suits him somehow, and I can’t tear my eyes away from his blissed-out face as I stroke his head and neck.
This should be awkward—I’m literally petting my friend—but as Felix makes a deep purring sound, I honestly couldn’t care less about the boundaries of friendship.
“I’m just saying,” Niamh whines, “if you’re going to get social time with Consort Jared, we all should.”
I take a brief pause from my policy of ignoring this conversation to wonder if my agreeing would make her go away.
Probably not.
“You just want to suck up,” Brayan jibes.
“I don’t! This is about fairness. We all work hard protecting the king. How come Ari gets to socialize with Jared and the rest of us don’t?”
The sound of a clearing throat gets my attention, and I glance up to see Eoin in the doorway, back from his meeting.
My face automatically settles into a glare.
This is all his fault—him and his big mouth that couldn’t resist asking me about dinner when other people were around. “What, exactly, are you talking about?”
Niamh falls all over herself to explain, and I go back to the reports I’m reading. Eoin had better deal with this.
“So to sum up,” he says slowly when she’s done, “you want to tell the consort that he has to socialize with you.”
The sound that comes from Niamh is almost worth the headache she’s been giving me for the past half hour.
“No! No, I would never. I just…” She seems to realize there’s nowhere for that sentence to go and huffs. “Fine. Of course we’d never force the consort to hang out with us. But Ari needs to show some discretion and politely refuse if he’s invited. It’s unprofessional.”
That gets her a sideways look from me. She wants to talk about professionalism and discretion?
But she’s already shaking her head. “Yeah, I know… I heard it. It’s still not fair, though.”
I held out through the cajoling, the scolding, and the order-giving, but her unhappy pout is what gets me. I genuinely like my teammates, and we get along well. I don’t want to be the reason the vibe gets messed up.
“It was incidental,” I tell her, and the way everyone else in the room perks up, their attention swiveling toward us, is a little disconcerting,. “Felix invited me because he had some news he wanted to update me on, but he already had plans with Dáithí and Consort Jared. I just tagged along.”
The split second of dead silence alerts me to my fuckup.
“Felix invited you?”
Belatedly, I remember that when Eoin asked me about dinner the other day, he only said, “I heard you had dinner with Dáithí and Jared—” before I cut him off. Felix’s name didn’t come up and definitely not in the context that he and I might be more than casual professional acquaintances.
Until now.
“Who’s Felix?” someone else asks.
“Wait, is this hockey player Felix?” Brayan demands. “The guy you accused of murder?”
The whole room turns to look at him. “The what?” Eoin shakes his head. “Nobody was accused of murder, and I’m signing you up for a training unit.”
“In what?”
“I don’t know yet, but if you remember the situation as Ari accusing someone of murder, you need more training.”
“What did he accuse him of, then?” Brayan’s sulky tone would make me laugh, except somehow my life is the center of their attention, and I fucking hate it.
“Do we really need to talk about this?”
“Yes,” a bunch of voices say, and I sigh.
“But not about history,” Niamh tacks on. “Brayan, I’ll update you later. I want to know how Ari went from barely knowing this guy and not liking him to being invited to dinner so they can catch up on life.”
“It wasn’t…” Fuck. How do I get out of this? “I apologized ages ago. He accepted. Now we see each other when I’m at the Warhammers’, and we’re f-friendly. That’s all.”
“Friendly,” Brayan repeats. “That’s not the F-word I was expecting you to use.”
“Okay,” Eoin interrupts as the hoots and lewd laughter break out. “This conversation has officially crossed the line into inappropriate for the office. Leave Ari alone. He’s allowed to have friends, and you all have work to do.”
With minor grumbles, everyone disperses, and I go back to staring at my screen. I’d be grateful to Eoin, except he could have stopped them sooner and didn’t. Plus, it’s still all his fault.
My phone ringing is a welcome interruption, and I grab it like a lifeline, not bothering to look at the screen. “Ari Oensjord.”
“Hi, Ari. This is Rhys Griffiths.”
My heart rate picks up. “Dr. Griffiths, hello. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.” It’s only been three days.
“Well, I love data, and the idea of a problem that’s under-researched appeals to me. Plus, Fabian’s been caught up in a project this week, so I had a little extra time.”
Vaguely, I remember that his boyfriend—or are they married?—is a dragon, one of the archivists for the living archive. “I hope you have good news for me, then.”
“It depends on your perspective. Let me walk you through it.”