Gag. Me. Akane toasted him back and sipped her Bordeaux, enjoying the full, bold flavor bursting across her tongue. She bet Jethro would hate it.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of blonde hair. She kept her gaze on Tristan, but allowed her inner sight to open.

Constance Malmayne was leaving the restaurant. Not surprising, since the food here was up to even the Malmayne’s exacting standards. What was surprising was the fierce expression on her face as she spoke into her cell phone. Akane couldn’t hear her words, but her tone came through loud and clear. Constance was pissed off at whoever was on the other end of the phone, and Akane had the urge to run across the room and “accidentally” bump into the woman to find out who she was speaking with.

“Akane?”

She turned her attention back to Tristan. Whatever Constance was up to would have to wait. Akane had a bigger fish to land.

They made small talk as they waited for their food, the soft sounds of cutlery on china the only music. After they’d eaten Akane suggested dessert. There was a hell of a lot of flirting she could do over chocolate mousse.

Tristan agreed, and Akane proceeded to seduce him into a stupor. She ran her tongue slowly across the back of the spoon to catch every last bit of deep, rich chocolate. She swirled her finger through the whipped cream, making sure to suck it off in a gesture just this shy of obscene. Licking chocolate off her lips earned her a soft groan, and when she “accidentally” ran her foot down his calf it was Tristan asking her back to his room.

Once there, she’d get what she needed and get out, leaving Tristan with a memory that would rock him for years to come. One of the perks of having a Sidhe for a partner was their ability to weave a believable fantasy for someone simply by dipping into their mind. The recipient of the fantasy would have all of their senses immersed in it, making it seem like reality. Most Sidhe used this ability to protect themselves from humans or weave romantic fantasies for lovers.

Sidhe Blades used it to mine information from unsuspecting targets. Etienne would ensure that Tristan fully believed Akane had pleasured him into a stupor before slipping away into the night.

She let him place his hand at the small of her back as they walked out of the restaurant. All of Akane’s appetites had been sated. Tristan’s were still on the edge. “So I’ll follow you back to your place?”

“No need. I think we can take one car, don’t you?”

Something about the way Tristan said it had her dragon senses tingling. The Sidhe was up to no good, and getting in his car would be a mistake. “Oh, but I wanted to make sure I still had my car, remember?”

Tristan tipped her face up. “Trust me. It won’t be necessary.”

That sounded strangely like a threat. Akane gripped his wrist and pushed his hand away, much to his shock. “Oh, I think it will.”

When he shoved her back she nearly fell. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to tonight.”

For some reason she wasn’t surprised when the weapons came out, two silver blades finely honed to a wicked edge. “Nice.” She whipped out her own blade and kicked off her heels. “Bad spot for this, though. Wouldn’t do to let the local yokels get a look.”

“At these? Hell, around here they’re pocket knives.” He slashed out, humming happily when she dodged out of his way. “God, you are the hottest thing on two legs.”

“Should I try for four?”

“Even these people aren’t that blind, sweetheart.” He lunged, attempting to disarm her, his off-hand blade shielding him.

Akane blocked his blow and swiped at his face with her off hand, her black claws drawing blood. “Oopsie. Tristan gots a boo-boo.”

“So does Etienne.”

Their swords clashed together, the sound strangely muffled. Tristan had to be hiding them from the humans coming and going from the restaurant. It was the only explanation.

Hell, if he wanted to tire himself out on illusions who was she to argue?

She glared at him. “What did you do to Etienne?”

“Nothing permanent. Yet.” He slashed at her side, drawing a thin, bloody line through her favorite shirt. “Who do you work for?”

“Robin Goodfellow. And you? Seen Her recently, you Black Court son of a bitch?”

His swords faltered for a moment before he clumsily blocked her blow. “The Dark Queen does not know my face. Can the same be said for yours?”

She slashed at him, driving him back a step. “Puh-lease. Have you met anyone of the Black Court who’d dare say Robin’s name?”

“Say it, yes. But will they sing it?”

As she blinked in shock he disarmed her. The point of his blade rested against her throat. “Sing, little dragon.”

Akane saw red. Her hair lifted off her neck, forming her dragon’s ruff. Her horns pierced through the midnight strands. It was time to break out the big guns. “Eat shit and die, tapeworm.”

“Fuck.” Tristan thrust at her throat but it was too late. Akane had shifted. The blade bounced harmlessly off her hide.

Akane bared her fangs at the pale Sidhe. “You were saying?”

Tristan dropped his sword and put his hands behind his head. They were useless against her now, and he must know that. “Just so you know I’m not the only one she sent.”

“Who else?”

He scowled. “No fucking way I’m giving up my partner to you, scum.”

“Scum? I’m not the one working for the Black, asshole!” Akane’s head tilted. “Well.” She sat on her haunches and lifted her back paw, absently scratching an itch behind her ear. “Damn. You work for Glorianna, don’t you?”

Tristan eyed her curiously. “Are you that limber in your human form?”

Akane’s paw dropped. “Don’t make me eat you.”

He grinned.

“In the you-are-crunchy-and-taste-good-with-ketchup way.”

The grin turned wicked. “You are that limber, then.” He eyed her, nose to snout. “Can I lower my arms now?”

She puffed out some smoke, holding her amusement when he coughed. “Where’s Etienne?”

“The trunk of my car.” When she sighed wearily he shrugged and asked, “Where would you have put him?”

Akane shifted back, adjusting her skirt before he got too good a look at the Promised Land. “You do know you shoved a Knight of Oberon in your trunk.”

“Prove it.”

“Sure.” She held up her phone and lit it up. Her finger hovered over the number two. “I have Robin Goodfellow on speed dial.”

“Let me dig out my keys.”

It didn’t take long to get a groggy Etienne out of the trunk of Tristan’s car and into the back seat of hers. She dropped him off at the hotel room before following a much quieter Tristan to a secluded spot where, if they fought again, no humans would be accidentally barbecued. Tristan, apparently willing to work with her, even let her car block his on the dirt road.

“I have a peace offering, if you’re willing.” Tristan held up a bottle of Goldschläger enticingly.

“Dragons don’t get drunk.” Their bodies burned off the booze way too quickly.

“But you do enjoy a good buzz, don’t you?” He shook the bottle. “C’mon. I brought the good stuff. Only the best for my faux dates.”

She eyed the bottle warily. Goldschläger didn’t contain enough real gold to give her problems, but he could have tainted the alcohol some other way. “You first.”

He twisted off the cap and took a healthy swig. He shuddered and held out the bottle. “Now you.”

Akane took the offered bottle and sniffed delicately at the neck, looking for signs of poison. The scent of cinnamon liquor hit her, warm and enticing. She could detect the faintest hint of gold in the bottle and she salivated. Her body damn near vibrated at the metallic scent that permeated the liquid.

Tristan held his arms out to the sides, obviously not reaching for some form of antidote. She had no sensation that her senses were being tampered with.