He didn’t need to deal with a human female right now, especially one who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, while he’d lived for more than three centuries. Even so, his boots kicked into motion and he moved through the crush of bodies toward her.

A couple of club members greeted him, and more than one scantily clad female tried to halt his progress, but he arrived at her table soon enough.

Young and typically angry, a new club prospect sat across from her, generously pouring tequila into lined-up shot glasses and spilling onto the knife-scratched table. The kid’s name was Grad, because supposedly he’d graduated from college the year before. He stiffened when Daire walked up.

“Move,” Daire said, his gaze on the woman.

The kid faltered and then moved on with a sigh of disappointment. Yeah, it sucked to be just a prospect and not a full club member.

Daire straddled the now unoccupied fifties-style stool. “Daire Dunne,” he said.

The woman lifted an eyebrow in a curiously confident way. “Cee Cee,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.

That tone licked down his skin and planted hard in his balls. Jesus. He leaned back and studied her. Enhanced. Definite tingles cascaded from her, not too strong, but with enough force to show she was probably an enhanced human female. Either an empath or a psychic, probably.

Which explained the instant attraction.

He nudged a tequila shot glass toward her and picked one up, waiting until she’d clanked hers with his. Her fingers were small and graceful with natural nails and no frills.

They tipped back the drink, and she kept his gaze, swallowing the brew without a hitch in her breath.

Most enhanced humans either didn’t realize they had special abilities, or ignored them, so he focused elsewhere. “How old are ya, Cee Cee?” he asked, pushing a second glass her way.

Amusement curved her lower lip. “Old enough. You?”

“Too old,” he answered honestly. He’d been undercover at the club for nearly two months, and so far, he hadn’t learned shit about the elusive drug he was tracking, a drug that harmed humans as well as his people. While he usually avoided the parties, he still kept an eye on participants. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

She nodded. “It’s my first time. I came with a friend.” She craned her neck, all grace, to look around the loud party. “I don’t see her, though.”

“A lot of the, ah, women who attend the parties end up in the back rooms,” he said quietly. The correct term was bitch, honeybun, or even skank, but his mama had taught him better.

She smiled. “That’s quite an accent you have there.”

“I’m from Dublin,” he said, quite enjoying her smile. “Our club merged with Titans of Fire, and I’m here for a bit.” As soon as he got all the information he could from the club leader, he was getting back home.

A fight broke out on the other side of the room, drunken members arguing about bike pipes, and Daire shifted his weight to put himself between the woman and danger.

She smiled, no concern entering her stunning eyes, even as the guys threw a series of punches until one careened over the stained bar to disappear on the other side. “Your patch says you’re an enforcer.”

“Aye.”

“Of what?” She leaned toward him, revealing more creamy cleavage.

His groin hardened instantly. Something about her, something graceful and out of place in the smoke-filled bar, kept his interest from where it should be—on his investigation for the witch nation. “Internal laws for Titans of Fire MC and whatever else needs to be enforced.”

She breathed out. “You believe that ends justify means?”

“Yes.” Unfortunately, in his line of work, he had to draw a line before any gray area. His words probably alarmed her, but he had to know more about her before she took off, as any smart woman would do. Intelligence shimmered in her eyes, so no doubt the lady had a brain. “What were you doing with the prospect?”

Her gaze dropped to the several full tequila shot glasses. “Drinking and arguing the merits of the United Nations.”

Daire lifted an eyebrow. “Your opinion?”

She twirled a full shot glass with delicate fingers. “Great in theory but with no bite. A governing authority needs teeth.”

Her emphasis on bite rioted more fire throughout him. “You like bite?”

Her eyelids lowered just enough to be unbelievably sexy. “Right place and right time, absolutely.” Without moving, she glanced around at the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, despite the lack of decent music. “Not here, however.”

Yeah. A woman like her didn’t belong in a place like this. “Wanna get out of here?”

She sat back, studying him.

He didn’t smile or try to cajole, almost fascinated by the play of expressions across her finely crafted features. When she opened her mouth to speak, he fully expected a refusal.

“You sure you’re safe with me?” she asked, that throaty voice scratching under his skin.

He grinned. Not in flirtation, and not in reassurance, but in pure amusement. He was a three-centuries-old witch, an enforcer for his people, and one of the most dangerous beings on the planet. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Remember those words,” she whispered, sliding from the stool.

He pushed back and stood, struck by her size. Even wearing spectacular black boots with three-inch spike heels, she barely reached his chest. It was a colossal mistake to spend the night with a human woman, and he was surely ignoring his duties, but for once, he didn’t give a damn.

His two younger brothers, both enforcers, were out of the country on jobs, while the two prospects, who weren’t quite prospects, were out clubbing in Seattle, looking for the elusive drug they were all trying to stop. None of them required babysitting for the evening. In fact, nobody needed his assistance right now, and with a woman like Cee Cee sending out unmistakable signals, he was taking a fucking night for himself. Yet he paused. “This is one night.”

She threw back all of that glorious hair and laughed, deep and throaty. “I’m not looking for a ring, Enforcer. This is an adventure for one night, and then it’s back to reality.”

He had the oddest urge to discover her reality, but he shook it off. “Fair enough.” Sliding a hand around her bicep, he propelled her through the crowd to the door, ignoring the hangdog expression on Grad’s face. The kid hadn’t had a chance and apparently was too dumb to know it.

They reached outside, a cool Seattle night, and he escorted her to the Harley. “You have a car here?”

“No. I came with my friend.” She eyed the supercharged bike with bright eyes. “She’s beautiful.”

His chest lifted. Yeah, she was. “Thanks. You ever ride a bike before?”

Her pretty lips turned down. “You know, oddly enough, I have not.”

The way she talked, every once in a while, bespoke an Ivy League education and hard-won experience. Just who was Cee Cee? “What’s your last name, darlin’?”

“Jones.” She shivered in the night air and zipped up a designer leather jacket.

Daire would bet his last coin that his cousin, clothes aficionado Simone Brightston, would approve of the coat. “You’re a mystery, Cee Cee Jones.”

She stepped into him, bringing the scent of wild hyacinth. “I’m just a good girl out for one wild time before getting back to real life. You going to give me that, Enforcer?”

Aye. Aye, he was. He threw a leg over the bike and held back an arm to assist her to sit behind him. She straddled the bike like she’d been born for it, and he shoved down a groan at the mental image of her straddling him. Then she slid her hands around his waist, tucking them inside his jacket.

Swallowing deep, his body rioting like a teenager’s on a first date, he handed back the helmet. “Tiny blondes with big brains protect their heads,” he rumbled, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed shards of glass.