Chapter 1
The moment Mason saw the Elvish soldiers in their leather uniforms, he’d known his vow to avoid men in uniforms was going to be tested. And tested hard.
It wasn’t only because elves were pretty with their long hair and sharp features; he’d also been warned about their sharp tongues.
But the way they carried themselves with the same lethal grace cats had and humans could only aspire to.
God—or should that be gods?—he wouldn’t mind feeling one of their tongues in his mouth, or on his dick, or anywhere.
He needed to keep his eyes off them and remember why he was freshly and painfully single.
During the service, it had been much easier to avoid looking at the elves as he was concentrating on not feeling as though it should be him getting married.
Even though marrying Bud would have been the wrong thing to do, staying with him had been the wrong thing to do, he’d wanted him to be the one.
He’d wanted it to work out so badly that he’d ignored all the red flags and the griffin footprints, which was the mytho equivalent saying.
He was happy for Jordan and Edra, and they were so clearly in love that it gave him hope there was someone for him. It also twisted the knife that he was single again at thirty-five, and the idea of dating had him reaching for another drink.
Now that everyone was eating and drinking, he had the time to look around at everyone else.
Everyone seemed to be coupled up and happy.
Sean was with his ogre boyfriend. Mason shouldn’t have been surprised by that.
Sean liked big guys, and he was kind of mytho-obsessed.
But they were sickeningly sweet together.
The bitterness churned in his gut. Or maybe that was all the glasses of alcohol he’d downed in the hopes of washing away all thoughts, coupled with all the weird food.
He felt like the only single person in the room, even though he wasn’t, not on the mytho side or the human side. When people started getting up to dance, he wasn’t sure he wanted to join in, but the longer he sat there drinking, the worse he felt.
He’d known Jordan for years, back when Jordan had once worn a uniform, but Mason had known it was never going to work with him, and back then, he hadn’t cared about being single.
Jordan deserved someone who made him happy, and Edra did.
Mason wanted that, too. Did he not deserve to be happy and loved?
He let a werewolf drag him to his feet to dance and then joined in the game of keeping Jordan and Edra apart for as long as possible. It was only after they’d danced with everyone they were allowed to slink off and do what newlyweds did. Mason’s heart joined in with the churning in his gut.
He needed to decide. Did he keep drinking until he passed out, or did he do what his friends expected and hookup, have some fun?
Both options lead to regrets in the morning, and he wasn’t na?ve enough to think that a wedding hookup was going to become anything serious.
He wasn’t ready for anything serious, but at the same time, he wasn’t getting any younger.
This time, he wasn’t thirty and single; he was over thirty-five.
Nothing screamed ‘catch’ like a thirty-five-year-old dentist with a dad bod.
In the New Year, he planned on hitting the gym because that was one thing he could change, and the last thing he needed was the sneering from a twenty-something potential date who thought he was shit hot because he had youth on this side.
He danced with a few other people, trying to decide how he wanted his regret served in the morning.
If he couldn’t decide, he shouldn’t take either option.
But that seemed like a waste of a wedding, especially since it wasn’t his.
Even though breaking up with Bud had been the right thing to do, it still fucking hurt.
Mostly because he hadn’t done it sooner.
His ego was smarting as much as his heart.
But he couldn’t be with someone who hated mythos now that one friend was married to one and another friend would be soon.
It would take Sean less than a year to be married, and Mason would be sitting at another wedding complaining about being single and getting closer to forty.
Was he turning into one of those people?
No, he wasn’t turning into one of those people he already was.
Which was so much worse.
He needed another drink. Then he’d decide what to do. But he only made it two steps off the dance floor before an elf kitted up in a very fancy leather uniform put his arm around him.
For a heartbeat, he considered pulling away. Elves were dangerous. And not just because they were armed but because they had the magic to bind a person with their own words.
Maybe it was possible to make some kind of vow to find the right man and let mytho magic sort it out.
The elf’s touch was firm, and Mason wasn’t sure he’d be able to get away even if he tried. The leather was buttery soft beneath his fingertips and highly decorated—colored and embossed. This wasn’t the kind of uniform worn in battle, despite the number of weapons the elf was wearing.
Mason made sure not to touch the sword or the knives that he could see. He was sure there were some he couldn’t. He lifted his gaze to meet the elf’s. His eyes were impossibly blue, and his long, honey-blond hair was elaborately braided in places while the rest tumbled down his back.
The elf didn’t need magic…Mason would do whatever he asked as long as it involved getting naked. He swallowed and looked away. Rebound sex was not what he needed.
But it was what he wanted, and the alcohol in his blood had washed away all the reasons it was a bad idea.
“You seem to be here out of duty and not enjoying yourself,” the elf murmured as he dragged Mason back onto the dance floor.
How did he answer that? He was here to support Jordan. Could everyone tell he didn’t like being here alone? He hoped not. He needed to seem as though he was enjoying himself. He forced a smile.
“I’m happy for Jordan and Edra, but I broke up with my boyfriend a couple of weeks ago, and this is more painful than I imagined.” The words fell off his tongue. Now, he sounded morose. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.
Instead of mocking him, though, the elf nodded and pulled him closer, not even pretending to maintain enough distance to keep the dance respectful.
Now they were pressed together in a way that was far more suited to a nightclub at one o’clock in the morning.
Not that Mason minded because the elf knew how to dance, and Mason was sure he knew how to dance off the floor as well.
“So you are here alone?”
“Yeah,” Mason said, not sure where this was going or where he wanted it to go.
Men in uniforms were trouble. Elves more so.
Yet he couldn’t look away, and he liked the way the elf’s hand moved to cup his ass instead of his hip.
“I am.” He needed to say something or ask something.
He remembered how to have a conversation. “Are you working?”
The elf laughed. It was a rusty sound, as though it didn’t get used very often. “I am always working.”
Right, that wasn’t an answer.
The song ended, and he released Mason, which was rather unfortunate because now he didn’t know what to do. Meanwhile, the elf had already moved on to his next dance partner, which sparked an irrational spike of jealousy because he didn’t want to get grindy on or off the dancefloor with the elf.
Maybe a little.
After a couple of seconds, Mason made his way back to his seat and had another glass of wine.
But his eyes kept drifting to the elf. Unlike the others who stood around the room and didn’t join in, the blond not only wore a fancier uniform, but he also had a golden band on his head, much like the ones Jordan and Edra had been wearing.
Even though Mason wasn’t sure what they meant, they definitely meant something, which meant the elf was someone important.
Definitely more trouble than he could handle.