“What the fuck did you do?” Rohan hissed into my ear.

“I told you. Took E.” I fixed my gloss, wishing the drugs were kicking in. “Consider yourself informed.” I looked over to see if Samson had gotten our coats yet, since I’d insisted on going somewhere I could dance.

Rohan shifted to block my view. “Hotel. Now.”

“No. We’re connecting. He had this tattoo and–”

He blinked rapidly at me, his cheeks flushing red. The very shade my brother had dubbed “Nava Red,” in honor of my tendency to bring it out in people. “You took drugs from a suspected demon because of a tattoo? Are you insane?”

“Too bad you were too busy to monitor my every move.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Language, Snowflake.” I waggled my head to the catchy tune playing on the speakers. “Don’t wreck all my hard work. You have your role and I have mine.”

He leveled me with a mocking gold gaze. “You mean swallowing?”

I threw him a pitying smile. “It’s such an easy option for getting what I want.”

Drio sidled up beside us, preventing us from coming to blows. Not that I would. Punching was no fun. Swaying my hips was. “Is there a problem?” he said. “Because you two are not playing the agreed upon dynamic.”

“Rohan’s kvetching over nothing,” I said.

“Samson gave her ecstasy,” Rohan said. “Or a roofie.” What a drama queen.

“You know, Ro, E could actually work.” Drio nodded his approval.

I smirked at Rohan. “I don’t think roofies come with happy faces on them. Besides, Samson took the other half.”

Rohan gripped the edge of the bar.

Across the room, Samson held up my jacket, two of his bodyguards hovering silently behind him. I held up a “hang on one sec” finger. “I need–”

“You need to keep quiet for thirty seconds so I can take that time to convince myself I shouldn’t strangle you,” Rohan bit out. It seemed prudent to do as requested.

I counted off the time, enjoying the music, then turned to Drio. “I had a breakthrough with Samson. I want to continue pursuing this lead, which I promise to tell you all about tomorrow. But for tonight, will you come with me to this private party? I don’t want to go there alone with him.”

Rohan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now she speaks sense.”

“I’m supposed to take the Two Stooges to another club,” Drio said.

“I’m going with you.” Rohan grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd toward Samson.

Why did the heat of Rohan’s hand against mine make me giddier than total nudity with other guys? I stroked my thumb over his.

“Quit it,” he snapped.

I barely had time to pluck my jacket out of Samson’s hands as we passed. “Rohan’s coming.”

“Great,” Samson said in a voice that made it clear that despite the smile, this was absolutely not great at all.

I, however, thought it was seven kinds of fantastic. So much so that I had to share my delight. I enthusiastically waved good-bye to Poppy.

“Bhenchod,” Rohan muttered and pulled me out of the bar, where a limo awaited us.

A brick wall of a driver opened the back door, standing rigidly beside it. I immediately dubbed him Brickie. “Cute cap,” I said.

I’m sure that would have kicked off an enthusiastic fashion exchange except one of the bodyguards hustled me into the backseat where I was pinned between Rohan and Samson, the two of them traveling in chilly silence. Whatever. I was buzzed, happy Eurotrash was playing on the speakers, and the ecstasy was tingling my fingers and toes. I was being taken on an adventure in an incredible city. Yay!

Even better, Rohan had my back. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Big rock star and demon hunter worried about me. I ducked my head so neither of them could see my silly grin. Lovely boy. Under the cover of darkness that the backseat afforded, I slid my left hand over, curling my fingers into the waist of Rohan’s pants.

He turned his head to look at me. Still totally pissed.

I blew him a silent kiss. A curious expression crossed his face. Right. But blowing kisses didn’t count, so I blew him another one.

Rohan shook his head at me and turned away to stare out the window.

“Kicking in?”

“What?” I looked at Samson.

“You’re dancing.”

So I was. Grooving away where I sat on the plush leather seat. “It’s a good song.” I bopped Samson on the tip of his nose.

He laughed, catching my finger and biting gently on it. I rubbed my finger against his teeth for a second because it tickled.

Samson hissed, trailing a finger along my jaw and down my neck.

Party pooper on the other side didn’t like that. “We’re here.” Rohan opened the door and yanked me out.

That won him zero points with Brickie and the security trio, since Samson scooted out, hot on our heels, causing the other four to scramble after us like Keystone Cops from those old silent movies that I’d seen in a film studies class during my brief university stint.

I looked at the nondescript club. More of a warehouse really. Despite the line of sulky beautiful people clamoring to get in, one look at Samson and Rohan now flanking me, and the bouncer lowered the rope. I could get used to this.

Inside the foyer, I handed one of the boys my coat, graciously allowing him to check it. Sashaying down a short hallway, I stepped through a doorway and found myself in a giant black box. Lights pulsed, bass throbbed, and bodies writhed.

Rohan placed his hands on my hips, forcing me to stand still. Even though he’d come up behind me, I knew it was him. I always knew it was him.

“Nava,” he said insistently in my ear. “No tapping. Don’t give Samson any actual information about yourself.”

I froze. Shit. I’d been doing that, hadn’t I? I turned around, meeting his eyes. There was none of the anger I expected to find, just an anxious concern.

“Just be careful,” he said.

“I know. I’m sorry. I won’t screw up. Now you have to have fun, okay?” I smiled, seeing Samson headed toward us. Ecstasy or not, I could stick to the role. I could intrigue.

I swayed my hips, grooving onto the dance floor. They followed like lapdogs, each one making sure the other didn’t get too close. Fine by me. Between their posturing and the music, there was no chance to talk and give myself away by saying something stupid.

I made sure not to tap at all.

Eventually, the wusses got tired, drifting off the floor. Not me. No one felt the music as deeply as I did. My heart beat in time to the pulsing lights. I threw my arms high, one with the mass of bodies on the floor, kicking off my shoes and abandoning myself to the music. “Take me higher,” the vocalist sang and I obeyed. Blood became melody, heartbeat turned to downbeat. Lighter and lighter and higher and higher I flew.

Rohan pressed a bottle of water into my hand, breaking my trance. I put my hand on his shoulder, leaning in close to speak to him. “You take good care of me.” His shoulder felt really nice so I kept rubbing him. Then I drifted that hand down his chest, my other one snaking around his hip, water bottle still hooked between my fingers. I swayed against his body to the music.

“Nava,” he groaned. His eyes turned that molten lava that was rapidly becoming my favorite color.

“Ro,” I purred. I tilted my face up to his. “You have the best lips.”

His face screwed up like he was in pain. I thought he said, “Not like this,” and then, body tense, he twisted himself away from me.

I pouted at him, my hips still shimmying. My head still bobbing.

“Drink your water,” he ordered and disappeared into the crowd.

I pressed the bottle against my chest for a minute before chugging it back. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see Rohan. An invisible thread connected us. Red. No, sunset orange. Winding around the other dancers to anchor deep inside our chests, I could let myself go and I wouldn’t fly off. I tipped my head up, grinning.

A pair of hands slid around my waist and I lit up, thinking he’d come back. But it was Samson. He nuzzled my neck.

None of that, demon boy. I disentangled myself, dancing deeper into the press of bodies. Flirting was fine but there wasn’t a dose of ecstasy large enough to make me forget myself enough to hook up with him.

Of course he followed me, looking irritated.

Leading him on a chase was all well and good, but the possibility of the catch was important too, so I crooked a finger, beckoning him closer.

He obliged.

I put my hands on his hips. At least this way I could control the distance between us. “Keep up,” I shouted over the music.

Then I closed my eyes.

I have no idea how long we danced. Samson didn’t press his luck, keeping a slight distance between our fronts. His hands, however ran up and down along my sides. Over and over again. It went with the music so I let him continue.

He smiled at me, his hair plastered to his forehead. His shirt had been discarded at some point and beads of sweat trickled down his abs. A lot of people, men and women both, were doing their share of looking and I had no doubt that a lot of Instagram streams featured new pics of Samson ‘dancing fool’ King.

I started giggling.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

I bit off my laughter at the sight of Rohan sandwiched between two girls, his jacket discarded. Heat pooled in my belly watching him, one hand splayed against a woman’s waist, his hips rolling and grinding in perfect harmony with his partners.

The bass wasn’t the only thing throbbing. I fanned myself with the neckline of my dress, realizing that I stood stock still in the middle of the dance floor. I quickly turned my attention back to Samson only to find him fixed on Rohan with an expression of pure hatred. I laced my fingers through his and squeezed to get his attention. Not the hand with my Rasha ring. I had enough presence of mind not to blow the glamour.

Samson focused back on me and I mimed getting water. I had no idea where my shoes were, so I made my way over to the bar in bare feet, keeping a close hold on my target.

We passed a woman in fairy wings reclining on a couch in the back corner, a sensual smile on her face as she watched her girlfriend dance. It was sexy until the dancer turned, revealing the panic in her frozen features. Her movements were jerky, as if she was fighting them. As if she was trying to stop and couldn’t.

The woman on the couch tipped her head back, her eyes glazed in cruel lust. Shit! Demon. I sped up, veering for the dancer.

The demon shuddered and the dancer collapsed. That got the attention of the people around her, who came to the fainted woman’s aid.

The spawn slunk off through the press of bodies.

“She should have paced herself,” Samson said into my ear.

I’d bet a million bucks he knew exactly what had just happened but I didn’t let on. “That’s why we’re hydrating,” I said. I prayed the dancer would be okay.

I consumed several glasses of water before pressing one into Samson’s hand. “Drink.” I wasn’t sure if evil fiends suffered from dehydration but in case he was one, I wanted him in good health when we killed him.

Samson ran his fingers over my sunburst. “You’re melting.” It was true. All my sweat had smeared the sun.

I stared at his hand, drawing small circles over my skin. I didn’t want it to feel good but I was on E.

Samson grew bolder, tracing along the neckline of my dress. Then he punched me. Not intentionally, but someone jostled into him, and as he crashed into me, his hands folded over into a fist, bopping me on my right boob.

“Ow!” I rubbed my chest, spinning to berate the clumsy dolt that had hit us.

Rohan gave me a crooked grin, his drink splashing everywhere.

My brow creased. Mr. Control looked plastered. Something about that didn’t feel right.

He waved the drink at me, draping an arm around my shoulders. “Found you.” His eyes were a bit too bright. His voice a bit too loud. “Time to go.”

“Okay, bye,” Samson said. To Rohan.

Rohan stumbled between Samson and me, his back to King. The grin fell from his face. His eyes were cold.

He was totally sober and not kidding about us leaving.

I stepped around him with an apologetic smile to Samson. I was tired, and beyond the sun tattoo, I hadn’t learned anything useful about our target. “Talk tomorrow?”

Samson’s expression hardened. “I’m busy.” Adieu, our tenuous connection.

“Maybe we could stay a bit longer,” I hedged.

Rohan fell against me, back in drunk-mode. His fingers dug into my skin. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby,” he slurred.

“Staying or going?” Samson asked when I still hesitated.

The crowd roared as the DJ wound them up, their collective energy rippling through the room in a sinuous pulse.

I threw Rohan’s arm off of me, despite his fumbled attempt to keep me close. “I’m still not over my jet lag.” I spoke directly into Samson’s ear since the music was almost deafening now. “I need to sleep. A rain check. Please? I promise to make it up to you.”

“Tomorrow.” His barked word was a reprieve and a warning. I’d not get a second chance.