She was in no mood for further investigating after meeting Dawnthorne. Did she know for certain what Dawnthorne’s role in the flesh trade was? No. But she knew where to find him. For now, she wanted only the relative privacy and quiet of her roomette, a meal, and rest. She still had to work that evening, and she needed her full strength.

“I’ll be close,” Amnan said when he dropped her off. To his credit, he didn’t ask to come in or seem to expect she invite him. They might technically live together now, though it occurred to her she could leave Maddugh’s home and return to her cottage any time she chose, but that didn’t mean her apartment was his apartment. Stepbrother or no.

So, he left, and she cobbled together a sandwich and peeled off her clothing to slip into a loose night gown, and burrowed under her coverlet for a few hours of sleep.

By the time she woke, her body felt refreshed, but not her mood. Amnan did not come to her door, but when she left the building into the blessed relief of night and began walking to her job, she felt eyes on her, the scent of brimstone in the air, and knew he was following.

She entered the club, but the rest of the evening went poorly. She endured a suspicious stare and blistering lecture from her supervisor, who’d seen Amnan come in close on Serephone’s heels at the last moment, and come to the wrong conclusion. Amnan had had to smooth over the woman’s wrath with an unexpected charming humility and insistence he was to blame. He didn’t admit to being Serephone’s stepbrother, which was odd.

Etienne was in Amalie’s section, staring down Serephone as well. There was a certain displeasure to the set of his shoulders, though his face remained neutral.

“You have a new swain,” the male said. This evening his dark blond hair was artfully tousled, pansy blue eyes piercing.

“He is my mother’s husband’s son,” she said shortly. “Drink?”

The two males spent the rest of the evening in a silent battle. Though Amnan had said he was going to return to his booth, inconspicuous, he took a table in Serephone’s section, stretched out an arm over the tall-backed edge of the couch, and watched Etienne. Pointedly.

If she fetched a drink for one, the other engaged her in pointless conversation.

If one engaged her in pointless conversation, the other asked for a tray of tidbits. Oddly enough, though Amnan’s demands became increasingly…indecent, Etienne remained strictly neutral. It was the only reason she hadn’t yet punched someone.

“I’ve never seen two males fight over a bone like this before,” Amalie said in her ear. “And Etienne—he is so restrained. I’m surprised. He’s sampled every female here, who is available.”

“Well, I’m not available, so there you go.”

Amalie shrugged, and walked away. She caught Olukemi’s amused eyes more than once as well, but the woman’s section was on the far side of the club, and she was busy as well.

Serephone finally put a stop to the nonsense. Crouching down at Amnan’s feet, the picture of demure sensuality should her floor supervisor happen to glance over, she smiled up at him through her lashes and said, “If you don’t stop this animal posturing, I will add something special to your next drink. You get me?”

Amnan paused, lifted a finger, and leaned forward. “I dare you.”

His nose nearly touched hers. It was an undignified pose for a dragon his age. “You don’t want to dare me, Amnan.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”

They stared at each other. Serephone was baffled by his sudden pleasure, and rose warily. She didn’t like when men were pleased—it usually meant they were up to no good.

“I’ll behave,” he said mildly, and stretched out a hand. She stared at it like it was a brand of particularly venomous, radioactive snake, then took it, uncertain of what, exactly, he wanted her to do.

And jumped, squeaking when he lifted the back of her hand to his mouth in a courtly kiss.

“Lady.” He released her.

She fled, but tried to make it look like a dignified stalk.

* * *

Serephone conducted a similar conversation with Etienne. He shrugged, watching Amnan. “He is no regular, and he has a whiff of dragon about him, but I know everyone in the local flight.”

“He’s from my hometown,” she said.

“Oh? Well, that explains it.”

She set his tray of nibbles on his table. “No, it really doesn’t. You want anything else? ”

Etienne grinned. Serephone stilled, arrested. There was something…fleetingly familiar about that grin. Something that tugged at the back of her mind. She blinked, and it was gone. As she turned away, Etienne’s finger tapped the back of her thigh.

“I can take him out back, if you like,” he said.

“If anyone takes him out back for a walloping, it will be me.”

But she had to return to Amnan’s eventually. She told Etienne she was done for the night, was this a lie?], her supervisor’s gimlet eye on her. Her dear stepbrother was dropping enough ready money that her employer wouldn’t tolerate her fluffing him off, relative or no. He’d moved back to his original booth, the shadows cloaking him from everyone but her, unfortunately. When he lifted a hand to beckon her over, she grit her teeth and obeyed.

“What do you want?” she asked, slamming her empty tray down on his table.

“I should lodge a complaint with management for the shoddy service,” he said. He was lounging, one arm draped over the back of the booth while he sipped his drink, eyes lidded. She saw the glint in them as they scanned the room, too sharp to be idle.

“What do you want?”

He set his drink down. “I don’t like the skinny blond. Don’t trust him.”

She snorted. As if. “I don’t trust any man. Don’t need to warn me about that.”

He frowned at her. “We’re on the same side, Serephone. I hope you don’t include me in that sweeping, prejudicial statement.”

He was especially included in her sweeping, accurate statement.

“Why don’t you trust me?”

What kind of question was that? “Don’t know you?”

“You live with me. Do I seem like such a miscreant?”

She shrugged. “We don’t really live together. I have no idea where your bedroom is.”

He smiled slowly. “Would you like a tour when we get home?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No? You haven’t really answered the question. Why don’t you trust me?”

Why should she trust him? “You’re male.”

His head tilted. “Excuse me? Did I miss the part when my gender is a character indictment rather than a biological fact?”

She folded her arms. “Did you flag me down just to annoy me? I have work to do.”

“I am your work.”

“You aren’t my work, but you are a piece of work.”

He clucked his teeth. “I’ve never met a female as suspicious-natured as you. You’re so young, sweet. Who hurt you? Did a man break your heart?”

She wished for the power to freeze his cock into a pole until it shattered into tiny little pieces. How dare he?

Serephone picked up the tray, expression scornful. “Not every pain a woman has is about a man, Amnan. That’s the male ego talking. As if our lives and experiences revolve around our relationships with males.”

“That’s fair. Would you put the tray down? I need to talk to you.”

His voice was shorn of irritation. It was the only reason she listened. She put the tray down.

“Sit, please. Next to me. Your supervisor will leave you alone, if she thinks you’re entertaining a wealthy patron.”

She opened her mouth to protest, her entire body clenching at the thought of leaning close to him, but said nothing. To protest would be to give her away.

But he knew, anyway. “Do you think I can’t scent desire, Serephone? It’s fine. I won’t use it against you—and I am in just as much torment.”

Her hand curled into a fist. He had no right.

“Sit,” he repeated, voice gentle. “Please. This is important. I think you may be in danger from Dawnthorne.”

Serephone slid next to him on the booth, kicked off her heels. “What is it?”

He didn’t move, not even a finger, waiting to speak until she’d relaxed. “I’m afraid he may be able to control you, or find you, through the geas. If it’s a binding in your blood, then you’ll light up like a beacon anytime he seeks you.”

“What do you propose?”

“I want to…create my own tracking spell on you. It would work both ways.”

Her first, visceral response was an emphatic no. He saw it on her face. “It’s for safety, Sere. If something happens and I can’t find you… I would be very angry. You don’t want me tearing through the city, do you?”

“I’m not responsible for your actions,” she said, crossing her arms.

He waited while she thought about it, unmoving, watching her face. “Your supervisor is approaching,” he said, voice quiet. “Move closer to me. I won’t touch you.”

She turned her head, just enough, to see the woman out of the corner of her eye, and sighed. And scooted closer, then grimaced, and pressed her side against him, the way she’d seen other girls with their patrons. His body was warm, bordering on hot, the strength of his muscles under her touch as she slid her hand onto his chest impressive. He flexed, a subtle tic and she glanced at him. His jaw was tight, eyes narrow.

The supervisor wandered by, then paused at their table. “Lord Amnan, I hope your evening is going well.”

“Bring a bottle of the 2250 Fae Red,” he said without looking at the woman.

Serephone blinked. That bottle cost more than she made at the club in a week.

“It will keep her off of us as long as we need to talk,” he said when she left.

“You just bought me for the entire night,” Serephone said, voice even.

“You’re not a thing to be bought. One day, I hope you’ll give me what we both want.”

She stiffened, looking away. “If that’s the conversation you want to have, then—”

“No.” He sighed.

The supervisor returned with a bottle and two clean glasses, plus a tray of small bites, compliments of the chef to enjoy, then left with a sweet smile for Serephone.

She sighed. “I suppose I should thank you. She’ll be in a good mood for at least two evenings. But it’s still a waste of money.”

“A beautiful woman is never a waste of money.” He lifted a hand. “I know, no flirting. Here, sip your wine, relax. No, don’t move.”

All the orders were beginning to irritate her. She contemplated the red wine, wondering what he would do if she just threw it in his face.

“And don’t do that, either,” Amnan said, voice dry. “But we were discussing a tracking spell.”

Serephone sipped the wine. Maybe it would numb her poor feet. “What does it entail?”

“The simplest one to anchor would be with an exchange of fluids. Blood and saliva would count.”

“That sounds gross.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

She glanced up at him, but his lids were lowered over his eyes so she couldn’t see their color or brightness, or the shape of his pupils. “How?”

“A kiss.”

She set down the glass. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“It’s just a kiss, Serephone. Not your virginity.”

For a moment her thoughts turned somewhere dark, and then she yanked them back into the present time.

When she looked at him again, he was watching her. “Yes or no?”

“Fine. Just get it over with.”

His brows rose, but he smiled. “Come closer, sweet.”

She leaned against him. “Don’t call me—”

“Yeah, yeah. You should probably just straddle me. A better angle.”

“You are taking advantage—”

“You wound me.” His words were playful, but his expression implacable. “I’ll wait for you to be comfortable.”

She knew she was delaying. It was just a kiss and there was no need to make a big deal over it. But it was Amnan. Amnan, who was already wheedling his way under her skin for some inexplicable reason she couldn’t identify. Damn dragon.

Serephone used a touch of her magic to darken the shadows around them as a concealment. The nature of her work costume was such that when she straddled his lap, her bare inner thighs were across him with no more barrier than the scrap of her panties. She sucked in a breath, feeling the hard length of him underneath her. His eyes closed.

“I can’t help the reaction of my body, Serephone,” he said. “Ignore it. Please.”

She didn’t want to. For a split second she struggled with the urge to rub herself along him, a flicker of throbbing in her body. Damnit. She bit her lip, smothering a gasp when her hips moved, just a little.

“Serephone,” he growled. “Stop it.”

She scowled. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Stone and Skies. When you mean to, let me know?” He blew out a breath, opening fiery eyes. “Business. Focus.”

“You’re the one who—”

His hand slid around the back of her neck, silencing her. She watched him warily. She wasn’t afraid of his desire, or her own. She just didn’t want to deal with it. But for now she needed to set her issues aside and get done what needed to be done.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to treat me like—”

“Fine.”

He kissed her, a taste of irritation under the desire. Tension in his body, in the strength of his fingers and the vibrating energy running through him as he held his entire body still, except for the lips on hers. Smooth lips, flavored with the red wine, the scent of male and dragon in her nostrils. His mouth pressed hers open, tongue delving inside. The first tendrils of magic curled around her and her body…reacted.

Her hands seized his shoulders, fingers digging in as she leaned into his chest. He inhaled abruptly, intensifying the kiss, tugging her head back and for a moment they both forgot their purpose. He was beneath her, hard and ready, and the booth was dark. She could just slip her hand between their bodies, release him, raise her hips, and…

….she tore her mouth from his, a moan in her throat. “Damn you.”

“Not my fault.” His arm slid around her waist. “Come back, spell not done.”

His eyes flickered, the same sensual torment in the strain on his face. She wanted, she needed, and it was completely unexpected.

Her damn stepbrother.

“Serephone, you have that look again,” he said. “I’m closing my eyes, because in just one minute, I’m going to take you up on the invitation.”

She glared at him. What fucking invitation?

“That’s better.” He let out a breath, muttered something she didn’t understand, and kissed her again.

This time is was sharp, forceful, and fangs deliberately nicked her lips. Blood filled their mouths, the salty explosion seized by his magic and the spell wrapping around them both. She fought instinctively to control it, to exert her will on the shape of the spell. His mouth moved against hers, silent words, and for a moment her heart stopped beating, her breath gone. And then their breaths synced, and before the feeling faded and she felt normal in her skin again—except for the uncomfortable desire—she felt him in her blood. His restlessness, his desire, his complete focus on her, as if nothing else was in the room. And, something else, something she chased, trying to analyze before she was shunted aside, and the spell slipped into obscurity, as if it wasn’t even there.

“Done,” he said hoarsely. “Now get off my lap, unless you want me to fuck you.”

She scrambled off his lap immediately, as if he were a sack of coals. He grabbed her wrist as she stood, yanking her to a halt. Her fist curled and she looked at him.

“When Serephone?” he asked.

She answered before she thought. “I don’t know.”

And didn’t realize until moments later why he smiled. Because she’d all but admitted that there would be a when.