“But you do admit you were checking me out?”

“Only in your deluded dreams, Atlantean.”

Her tone was defensive, though whether out of habit or the alcohol buzz she must be feeling, he wasn’t sure. She crossed her arms over her breasts, drawing his attention to her hardened nipples beneath the satiny fabric of her prim white button-down shirt. Her scowl and closed body language might be telling him she wasn’t interested, but the pretty flush of her cheeks—and the blood he could hear racing through her veins—were saying something far different.

As were the tiny amber sparks that kindled in her stormy irises.

The no-nonsense law enforcement agent may want to pretend the attraction between them wasn’t real, the way she had when they met for the first time last week, but he hadn’t been fooled then and he wasn’t fooled now. Whether Brynne wanted to admit it or not, the truth was right in front of him.

She cleared her throat and hiked up her chin. “You haven’t answered my question, Zael. What the hell are you doing in London? For that matter, what the hell are you doing in this club?”

“Looking for you.”

Well, that certainly got her attention. She went silent, her lips slack. The frown that seemed permanently creased into her forehead now faltered, though only for a moment.

“Looking for me.” She sounded surprised, her words guarded. “Whatever for?”

He knew he could play it smooth with her right now, use his charm and her physical, if slightly inebriated, reaction to him to his ultimate advantage. He had to admit, it was tempting.

Despite the fact that she was still dressed for a day in the office, from her sensible heels to the careful updo that corralled her thick mane of sable waves, Brynne had obviously come to this strobe-lit meat market in Cheapside tonight for a reason. Until he saw her shoot down every male who approached her, Zael had wondered if she was there with the intent that she wouldn’t be going home alone.

And why that idea should bother him so much, he didn’t want to examine.

Personally, he’d be up for the challenge himself, but seducing the prickly daywalker wasn’t the reason he was in London. All right, not the sole reason, anyway. He’d actually come out of concern.

He kept his voice low, even though the din in the club assured no one else would overhear. “I heard what happened last night here in London, Brynne.”

“Good news certainly travels fast,” she said dryly. She gave him a mistrusting look. “I wasn’t aware the Order had cleared you for that kind of information, Atlantean.”

“What good is an alliance if it’s crippled by secrets?” At Brynne’s grim nod of acknowledgment, Zael said, “I don’t imagine your colleagues at JUSTIS were pleased to find out you were working in secret with the Order.”

She groaned. “Your intuitive skills astound.”

When she raised her empty glass in plea to the bartender to come back and refill it, Zael gently caught her wrist and brought her hand back down. She looked too shocked to protest the physical contact, even as he covered her fingers with his on the bar. It took her a moment before she withdrew from his loose grasp.

“I know what you’re sacrificing by allying yourself with the Order in this. I also know what it is to be torn between the people you belong to and the ones you know are doing the right thing.”

He’d been toeing that same line since Lucan Thorne had summoned him to Washington, D.C., last week with a request to join forces. In truth, it had been something more than a request. A demand. Hell, it had been nothing short of a plea—no doubt, a first for a man like Lucan.

Zael held Brynne’s skeptical look. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine.” She broke his stare on a quiet scoff. “If you came here for a front row seat to watch my career implode, you’re too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was relieved from duty this afternoon.” Quiet words, heavy with restraint. For all of this female’s cool control and confidence, it was plain enough that the loss of her job had cut her deeply.

“Shit. No wonder you’re sitting here trying to drown yourself in whisky and other bad choices.”

Her sidelong glance was as dry as her voice. “Let me guess. You’re available to be one of them?”

Zael cocked a brow at her. “Are you asking?”

“Never.” She gave him an arch look that should have withered him, but instead sent a flare of heat straight to his crotch. “There isn’t enough whisky in the world for that.”

“Madam, you wound me.”

“Ah, now, there’s an idea,” she said, her lips curving in a smile.

Zael chuckled, not the least dissuaded. He got up from his seat at the bar. “Come on, Brynne.”

She stayed put, frowning at his outstretched hand. “Come on where?”

He took her hand, and was surprised that she slid off her stool without a fight. Score one point for the Glenmorangie.

Taking the opportunity, and her, in a firmer grasp, he led Brynne away from the bar and through the busy club.

“You’re wasting your time with me,” she said as they wended between the clusters of human and Breed patrons. “Wouldn’t you rather go find a woman who might appreciate your so-called charms?”

“Not especially. I prefer a challenge.” He paused with her at the edge of the crowded dance floor. Music vibrated the walls and the floor, throbbing with an energetic beat he felt reverberating in his chest. Multi-hued laser lights swirled in all directions, the flashing colors illuminating Brynne’s wary expression.

“What are you doing?”

He gestured to the dance floor. “Helping you have a good time. That is what you said you were trying to do before I showed up, right?”

Her mouth flattened with the beginnings of a protest. “I’m not interested in dancing, Zael.”

“Then what are you interested in?”

She fell silent, her gaze holding his as more bodies pushed and jostled their way past them onto the floor. The heavy bass pounded all around them, punctuating the hammer of Zael’s pulse as he waited for Brynne to push him away, to deny the attraction he felt crackling like lightning between them.

Damn, she was beautiful.

Color rose in her cheeks. As he watched it bloom, the flush spread down her pretty throat and onto the pale smoothness of her chest. The embers in her Breed irises glittered with more fire—banked but burning. And although she was careful when she spoke to him, more than once he’d seen the delicate tips of her fangs gleaming behind the lush pink line of her mouth.