"Ah. I wondered why you chose Scotland to live if you needed sunshine. We're not known for our overabundance of sunny weather." A smile flirted with his lips.
I went all melty inside at that smile, but I tried to keep things light. "Any sunlight is good. It doesn't have to be a gloriously sunny day like today. The reason you don't see anything different in the office is because this building stands on land that is founded, but the area down the block isn't. If you can risk a peek out the window, you'll see the difference."
Paen used a folder to angle the sun off his face as he opened a window and poked his head out quickly. A low whistle of surprise followed.
"Pretty freaky, huh?"
"Different. It looks… unpleasant. Disjointed. Harsh."
"Yeah, it does. That's what our world looks like to elves who walk in the beyond."
Paen closed the window, looking thoughtful. "That would explain why there are so few of them around."
I nodded. "Only the ones like my mother who are comfortable in the mortal world live outside the beyond. The rest prefer this world, where they can avoid anything upsetting, and stay in founded areas."
"Understandable." His lips pursed. "How do we get back?"
I smiled. "Worried I'll leave you here?"
"Hardly." This close to him, and with my elf senses running amok in their native environment, I could feel every emotion in him. His face held polite interest, but inside him, curiosity was driving him nuts. "I'm merely curious. I had no idea you could bring a non-elf into this world."
"I've never been able to before, and yes, I've tried. I think it's because now we're bound together." I slowly backed up a step, pulling my soul from his, shifting us back into our reality.
"Interesting," he said. "You said elves are not the only ones who can enter the beyond?"
"Any Fae being can. Others as well—mages, for instance, can, or so I've been told. I've never seen any there, but to be honest, I've only been there a couple of times. I prefer this version of the world. Now, about your need to smile more… maybe you just need a massive influx of kissing?"
"We weren't talking about me smiling—we were talking about you falling in love with me, and why it's a bad idea," he said, not moving when I leaned into him and gave his chin a flirtatious slurp.
"No, we weren't. I haven't said one single word about being in love with you. Kiss me, dammit!"
"Sam—" Paen stopped me from lunging at him. I was teasing him, but I could see in his eyes—I could feel inside him—that he wasn't responding. "I'm quite serious. I can't allow you to continue down this path."
"You can't allow me…" I stopped, disbelief twisting painfully in my heart. "Oh. I see how it is. You have your soul, so you have no further need for me. I was just a means to an end, wasn't I?"
I pulled away, turning my back on him so he wouldn't see the tears that suddenly made it difficult to see. I felt betrayed, hurt, used. I knew that was unfair since he'd made it clear he hadn't been looking for a serious relationship, yet I felt like so much had changed in the last few hours. After what we'd been through together, how could he still want to close me out?
"I never asked you to redeem my soul for me." Paen's voice was filled with regret, but nothing else. "I am grateful than you did, more grateful than I can possibly express to you, but gratitude is—"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to, I could hear the words as if he had spoken them. Gratitude was all he was prepared to offer me.
He was right. I knew that. But it still cut me to the bone that my newborn feelings for him were unrequited.
"Fine," I said, blinking rapidly to disperse the tears. I wanted to say something more, something sharp that would make him hurt the way he hurt me, but two things held me back—it wasn't a good business practice to hurt clients, and I couldn't hurt him even if I wanted to. That realization struck me like a wrecking ball—I wasn't falling in love with him; I'd gone right ahead and done it. At some point in the last few hours I'd gone from self-sufficient Sam, to needy, dependent Sam… and the man to whom I'd offered my heart didn't want it.
Chapter 12
Grief swamped me, so strong that I could taste its bitterness on my tongue.
"Sam," Paen said, taking a step closer to me. "I never meant for you to be hurt. I thought you understood the sort of relationship I could offer—"
Voices outside the door interrupted him before he could say something that would have me bursting into tears. Clare and Finn came into the room, laughing, Finn holding the shoebox containing the statue, while Clare, with a guilty look cast my way, hustled a bag from Mila's shop into a drawer in her desk.
"We got the statue. We had a peek at it in Mila's office—it doesn't look important at all to me," Clare said, the cheerful smile on her face fading when she looked first at Paen, then me. "Sam? What's wrong? Are you crying?"
"No, of course not," I said, desperately trying to blink back the tears as I frowned out the window.
"Yes you are, you're crying!" She rounded on Paen, a fierce expression on her face. "What did you do to her?"
"Me?" Paen asked, looking surprised. The boob. "I haven't done anything—"
"Leave him alone, Clare." I managed to swallow the lump of pain in my throat and turned to face the room with what I prayed was a placid smile. "It's nothing important."
"It is so important if he's made you cry," she said, looking militant as only an outraged faery can. She turned back to Paen with narrowed eyes. "What did you do to my cousin?"
"You didn't—Paen, tell me you didn't start spouting that rubbish about not needing any woman," Finn said, looking closely at him. "Oh, Christ, you did. When the hell will you learn—"
"This is none of your business," Paen interrupted, his eyes starting to flash blackened silver.
Finn took a position right in Paen's face, clearly furious at his brother. "It is when you're hurting the very same woman who saved your bloody soul for you!" he shouted.
"Guys, it really isn't—" I started to say.
"I never asked her to save my bloody soul!" Paen roared at his brother. The noise startled us all into silence for a moment. Everyone looked away as I took the shoebox from Finn and pulled out the statue.
"That was fun, but we have more important matters at hand than a broken heart," I said, setting the statue on my desk.
Clare gasped. "He broke your heart after you redeemed—"
"Enough," I said loudly, giving my cousin a warning look. "Can we move on, please? Anyone have any idea why this statue is so important that someone is trying to kill for it?"
Four pairs of eyes turned to the statue.
"It's rather attractive, in a cheap knockoff sort of way," Clare said, her head tipped to the side as she pondered the statue.
Paen picked it up and examined it. It looked just the same as it did the first time I saw it—a gold statue of a bird, some sort of stylized, vaguely falconish bird, with a cruel curved beak, claws wrapped around a stick of wood, the bottom of it flat, adorned with a crude made in Taiwan stamp.
"It's heavier than it looks," Paen said, turning it over. "This is brass?"
"I think so. It's certainly not gold."
"Hmm." He rapped his knuckles against the back of the statue. "It doesn't sound hollow. Probably it is plaster covered over with a thin veneer of brass. That's a very common technique used by knockoff artists."
"I wouldn't doubt it. It certainly doesn't look at all valuable. Any bright ideas on what's so important about it?"