“You did great,” Lydia promised, laughing. “My toes are all still attached.”

Wrench managed to look some strange mix of pleased and offended behind his gruff facade, and Lydia loved the feeling of his hand at her waist. It was strong and sexy, and she wanted to drag him straight back out on the dance floor, even if he didn’t once use anything except the very basic forward and back. He had a sure sense of rhythm, and if he wasn’t creative on the dance floor, he was at least steady. Lydia had danced with far worse partners.

“Look out,” she teased him. “Scarlet’s watching. If you do too well, next time she’ll badger you to go dance with all the shy ladies sighing in the wings. These dances always draw more women than men.”

Adding weight to her threat, Travis and Tex were trotting dutifully around the room with eager partners while Jenny and Laura laughed together behind the bar. Breck was dancing seductively with a blushing middle-aged woman and Bastian was doing something elegant with the mink shifter while Saina seethed from the side of the room. Even Chef had been dragged from the kitchen and was dressed up and dancing elegantly with Dot, the old woman with short white hair. Magnolia blew him a kiss from the chairs at the edge of the room.

Scarlet was acting as DJ; the loss of their boat gave them no way to get the usual band from the mainland for the event. Lydia felt like it wasn’t quite the same as live instruments, but having Wrench at her side more than made up for it.

As Lydia glanced over at her, Scarlet raised her eyebrow and tilted her head towards the few single men standing awkwardly to the side of the dancefloor.

“Ah,” Lydia said. “I’m not going to be so lucky. But this is a lovely opportunity to get some more information.”

Wrench’s hand at her waist tightened possessively and Lydia let him draw her in closer. With heels, she didn’t have to stand up far to kiss him lightly on the cheek. He growled so quietly that she could only feel it through their body contact, not hear it.

“You could go dance with Ms. Mink,” she suggested playfully. “Dancing is a great chance to ask questions.”

“I ain’t the guy to ask questions,” Wrench suggested dryly. “I’m the guy breaking fingers while the other guy asks questions.”

Lydia squinted up at him. There was a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Was that supposed to be a joke?” she realized in astonishment.

“Supposed to be, yeah.”

Lydia giggled helplessly and squeezed him.

Then he let her go, and Lydia had to fight back her instinct to throw herself back into his arms.

Duty called.

As she clicked across the dance floor in her shoes, she looked critically at her choices. The Swedish hockey player, Lars, looked like he might be lighter on his feet, but he was also gazing across the dance floor longingly at the bookish woman in glasses who was dancing with Tex. He didn’t even glance at Lydia as she sashayed towards them.

The Russian bruiser had an unexpectedly innocent look as Lydia drew closer, gazing wistfully out at the dancers and tapping his fingers against his sleeve. At any other time, this would have made Lydia choose him, but she wasn’t here just for dancing. She made the third figure of the group her target, extending an imperious hand to the grim-faced smoker from her flight. She thought his name from Scarlet’s list had been Tim.

He looked at her outstretched hand for a long moment before reluctantly accepting it.

Lydia didn’t care for the smell of cigarette smoke, and was relieved to find that he was more soap-and-sandalwood scented. He stepped out after her onto the floor with more grace than Lydia had braced for and his hand at her waist—while not Wrench’s—was neither desperate nor tentative.

“How do you like Shifting Sands?” Lydia asked, after they had negotiated the lead and settled into a comfortable pattern.

“It’s… a nice place,” the young man said uncomfortably.

“Enjoying the food?” Lydia pried. Normally, she wouldn’t push a conversation if someone preferred only to dance quietly, as this one certainly did. But she was on a mission, and grimly determined to find out who had bitten her mate and might be a threat to his niece.

“Er… it’s good,” maybe-Tim agreed plaintively.

“What brought you here?” Lydia asked cheerfully, with her best empty-headed smile.

“It’s… personal,” he said, biting off the end of his words.

Lydia let him turn her, aware of Wrench’s gaze attempting to burn holes through her partner.

“Like a contracted sort of personal?” she risked saying, hoping to surprise him into reacting.

But that only puzzled him. “Look,” he said crossly. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for. I’m only here because my sister didn’t want to come alone.”

It was Lydia’s turn to be surprised. “Your sister?”

She caught his automatic glance towards the librarian dancing with Tex. She was laughing at something he was saying.

“My sister,” maybe-Tim repeated.

Lydia sighed. While it was possible one sibling was a cat and the other a cobra, it seemed ridiculously unlikely that the pair were assassins.

Unfortunately, she had piqued the young man’s interest. “What do you mean contracted? Like… an assassin?”

Lydia hastened to hush him, and the young man stumbled over his feet as he immediately looked towards his sister. “Are we in danger?” he asked in an anxious whisper.

“You should be fine,” Lydia was swift to say, taking the lead automatically as his steps faltered. “It’s a personal matter, I promise.”

“Who is he after? Has he already made an attempt on someone? Is it a guest?”

Lydia sighed. “Listen, Tim… is it Tim?”

“Tom,” he corrected.

“Tom.” Lydia said firmly. “I promise that neither you nor your sister are any danger. It’s highly unlikely that anything will happen here at a public event like this, and like I said, it’s a personal thing. I’m sorry I alarmed you, I was only trying to eliminate suspects and I’m not very good at this.” She gave him a winning smile.

Tom was already squinting around at the other guests suspiciously. “What about that brute you were dancing with before? He’s got kind of that look, doesn’t he?”

Lydia turned them so she could smile across the dance floor at Wrench’s glare. “He does, doesn’t he?” She said fondly. “It’s a useful look, for certain lines of work.”

Tom gave her a deeply skeptical look. “Okay then, how about that Russian guy who looks like he did time in Siberia? I saw him shift into something goddamn prehistoric, with fangs like scimitars.”

Lydia tipped her head. “That was useful! But I’m afraid we’re specifically looking for a snake shifter. He’s already made one attempt.”

Tom shuddered.

“Who else have you seen shifting?” Lydia hastened to ask. “Anyone you’ve seen would be helpful!”

“There’s that really, really big woman with auburn hair who shifted into a polar bear at the pool,” Tom offered. “And, let’s see…”