Tipping the Scales

Chapter One

Zarek of the Dracodomus stared out

into the night. A blanket of darkness

lay not only over the city of Pittsburgh but also over his heart, doing its best to protect it from the harsh reality of life and loneliness. Not one to be sentimental, he hated the way he'd felt as of late. Hated feeling, period. It was easier to exist if he remained numb to the world around him. Dwelling on traditions and curses that he was powerless to change only left him sinking into a depressive abyss—a path he refused to take.

He sighed, letting the cool early summer breeze wrap around him. It held the scents of modern society, pollution, and other unnatural odors. He missed the days of smelling only the country air, the freshness, the sight of roses in the wild, and miles upon miles of untouched, undeveloped land; the freedom to come and go as he wished and to do so in an environment that seemed to thrive with nature. So much had changed.

Time goes on, whether I am prepared or not.

Zarek's body naturally matched the exterior temperature as it always did in shifted form. While not cold-blooded, he still possessed the skills needed to vary his core temperature. Zarek could also slow his metabolism in shifted, dragon form. It made it possible to hibernate for extended periods, and considering the fact that he was immortal, years passed in the blink of an eye. Sleeping them away sounded better and better.

Yawning, he took in the night air in hopes it would rejuvenate him. It did little more than nauseate him.

Humans.

No part of Zarek felt up to facing what would prove to be defeat again. The one was nothing more than a myth. A needle in a haystack of beauties just waiting to be fucked by him. Seeking out a woman had never seemed like a chore before, yet now it did.

If it wasn't for the fact he needed to mate or risk being impotent, then Zarek would have never even entertained the idea of finding a woman to call his own. There were so many to choose from. The idea of bedding the same one for eternity knotted his stomach. Variety was the spice of life, at least when it came to the bedroom. Sure, he'd had almost six centuries to fuck his fill, and he did, but never once had he come across a woman he'd wish to call his own— the one. He doubted very much he ever would.

The selection process involved in finding a mate was difficult. Not just any woman would do. No. He needed to find someone who was not only compatible with him sexually, but also the one who'd supposedly been selected for him long ago by forces he had neither seen nor truly believed in anymore. Once, in the earlier years of his somewhat jaded life, Zarek not only believed the stories passed down from Dracodomus, he'd been responsible for passing a few himself. His younger brother by a minute, Viktor, had often looked to him for advice. Why, he wasn't entirely sure.

Zarek no longer bought into the idea of soul mates. Living as long as he had didn't leave him much hope in that department. The notion of a ticking clock, counting off the time until he entered his six-hundredth year on this Earth was surreal. Immortality for him, while a gift by all outward appearances, came at a heavy price. A limited number of years to find the one—his soul mate—or risk impotence, or at best, still be able to have sex but never be able to father children of his own.

You're too old to run around with false hopes. Might as well prepare for the inevitable. In a few short months you're going to lose the ability have sex.

Talking to himself was surely a sign of madness. Though, if that were the case, he'd long since snapped. Solitary by nature, his species of dragon shifters, the Dracodomus, weren't known for sitting about having long, overdrawn heart-to-hearts. Perhaps that had something to do with why they were so close to extinction. They seemed to have issues settling down and committing as well. Hell, they had to have it forced upon them.

Not wanting to think on depressing matters any further, Zarek spread his golden, webbed wings, letting them stretch wide, each extending out far and wide. The reach of his wings was impressive, but not unheard of among his species. His brother's span was equally as large and equally as stubborn on selecting a mate. Since they shared a womb, they also shared a birthday. If at least one of them didn't find a mate, the Dracodomus line would end soon. A fate none wanted to see come to fruition. It wasn't as if his cousins were any closer to mating, and they were as old as Zarek and Viktor.

In all likelihood, we are the last of our kind.

Puffing a cloud of smoke through his nostrils, Zarek felt the stirrings of need in his loins. Shifting slowly into his base form—a human—he stared down the length of his naked body. Already his cock stood at attention, demanding release, as if it knew its days were numbered. The need to bury it deep within a warm, tight cunt was overwhelming. He fisted it, the urge to come so great that he knew he could not risk flying until he found some sort of release.

In today's day and age, he had to remain vigilant, flying below the radar or sustaining enough of his natural magik to cloak his presence from air traffic controllers. He had learned the hard way some fifteen years earlier that the government could and would send fighter pilots if they picked up on something the size of him in full dragon form flying at top speed. He could heal a great many things. A missile through the heart was not one of them.

He shuddered, thinking about his narrow escape. Never again.

Humans of long ago hunted his kind to the brink of extinction, and they had lacked the use of strategic warfare. They were gifted by the Fae too, but having the ability to wield limited amounts of magik or additional strength was not always an assurance they could prevail over a dragon. The knights had come, seeking fame and glory by slaying the fire-breathing dragons. Many succeeded. Equally as many failed. One line of slayers in particular proved to be a thorn in Zarek's eternal side—the Brandts, a German family who had been gifted by the Fae to help keep evil dragons and demons in line.

Unfortunately, a select few in the Brandt family stopped discriminating between good and evil and went with the rule of 'if it was not human, it did not deserve to live'. They simply killed because they could. Zarek cringed at the idea of a Brandt slayer existing in today's society. They'd be more monstrous than an Arctic dragon after a complete freeze-over. Deadly, for sure. Thankfully, the line of Brandts that had descended from the original, Fae-aided ones had died out about a century ago. The Brandts in existence today lacked the power, the drive, and the knowledge of their hunter ancestors. It was a good thing too. The Dracodomus had enough strikes against them. Indiscriminate demon hunters were the last thing their species needed to contend with.

Mmm, now I need to contend with, he held his erection firmly, something more pressing.

Closing his eyes, Zarek drew upon the image, or rather the sensation of a woman on her knees before him, her lush mouth teasing his shaft as her fingers played with his balls. The woman had no face, not even a body he could actually see. No. This fantasy, as the ones before it, had the strong sense of a female, the one, or as best he could tell, the one but with no real shape or form. Why couldn't he see her? Why was he denied that but not the knowledge of how glorious her touch could be?

It is your mind playing tricks on you. There is no perfect woman for you.

It made little sense to him, and with an erection bordering on painful, Zarek wasted no more energy thinking upon it. Instead, he let his imagination slip into thoughts of the one, of her tongue over his cock head and her sweet cunt dripping cream just for him.

He gripped his dick harder and let a string of spit fall down from his mouth onto it, lubing it nicely, all the while visualizing her mouth over him. It was easy to picture her hands kneading his sac gently as she took his long cock deep into her throat. The walls of her mouth replaced that of his hands in his mind, and the moment he felt her teeth scraping over his sensitized flesh his balls drew up.

"Not yet," he ground out, his jaw clenched almost as fixed as his cock was.

Zarek didn't want to come just yet. No. He wanted to prolong the feel of the mysterious woman's mouth over him. Imagined or not. It was perfect. Heavenly. If only she were real, he'd have no problem strapping himself down for an eternity to her.

That is probably why they refer to the one as the one, you dolt, he chastised himself.

Rubbing his long, thick cock, Zarek tipped his head back, savoring the imagined feel of ecstasy. He jerked, instantly sending a jet of magik-laced come far from his body. Had it been real, had his mate truly been there, sucking his cock, she would have found herself fully mated to him the moment his seed came into contact with her skin. It was another assurance that in the event a Dracodomus male found his mate, he would not mess it up and lose her.

Mother Nature apparently knew his species well. The males in his family and species had a long history when it came to settling down, or rather, the desire not to settle down. Perhaps that was why they were gifted with six hundred years of bachelorhood to do with as they pleased. If in that time, by some miracle, a Dracodomus male's semen came into contact with their chosen one, they would find themselves mated—a husband and, if luck was on their side, a father.

His cock twitched as the last of his seed emptied. It did little to relieve his rampant want for a hot pussy, but it would afford him the chance to fly without pain. Turning, Zarek smiled as he headed back into his home. A deep laugh tore free from him as he took in the scenic view. "Oh, I almost pity the woman I find tonight. She will be so thoroughly fucked that she will not move for weeks."

He was reminded of the great poet Simonides. "Even the gods do not fight necessity," he whispered in his native tongue, which was an interesting blend of several human languages as well as ancient dragon—though he noticed Latin, French, and Greek seemed to pull from the dragon-tongue. The fools could not be original in anything they did.

Chapter Two

"Keren, did you miss the memo that we

were going out tonight?"

Keren Brandt looked at her co-workers, smiling hesitantly. They were what she considered close acquaintances, not true friends. Considering she'd never actually had anyone close enough to tell the truth about herself, she doubted she ever would have a real friend. "Why?"

Gennie shook her head, sending tendrils of red hair scattering about her shoulders. The woman barely came to Keren's shoulder, but she had a drive about her that had attracted Keren to her. It was rare to find that same spark in another. "You do not look like you're on the prowl for a man."

"Because I'm not," Keren said defensively, squaring her shoulders and standing at her full height of five-nine. In her heeled boots, she reached six feet. When she was younger, she'd been self-conscious about how tall she was but as time wore on, she learned to accept it. "It's my night off."

The comment caused a number of speculative looks to be cast in her direction. Keren forced a smile to her face, doing her best to cover her slip. "It's our night off."

The women nodded, each grinning. Keren exhaled, happy that was over. As of late, she'd been slipping more and more, coming close to revealing that after her day job was complete she had another more important job. One that she didn't get to call in sick for or take any sort of real vacation from. One that didn't allow her to wear a pretty dress, which was why she jumped at the chance to do so.

Being a demon huntress wasn't glamorous, and it sure as hell wasn't something she could start blabbing about to anyone. No one outside of supernatural circles was to know that hunters or even non-humans existed, and she wasn't about to break the news or that rule.

Honor the code.

Keren was not on a manhunt. At least, not in the way one would associate with going clubbing. No. Tonight she was out to find a hottie, screw him, and then forget about him. No working. No commitment. Just pleasure. She seemed to always be on the lookout for demons. Rarely was she ever seeking a man. That being said, she did a quick check of herself. Should she actually bump into Mr. Right, she wanted to look her best. The long khaki-colored crocheted dress she wore swept down to her ankles. The dark brown suede thigh-high boots she'd paired it with made her feel sexy. Just because she didn't have on a "spank me" little red leather miniskirt like half the girls in the group didn't mean she wasn't sexy. Did it? It wasn't like she didn't own leather.

Hell, she spent almost every night hunting in it. Was it too much to ask for a break? A night to be feminine, pretty, not covered in supernaturals' blood?

Apparently so.

Ignoring Gennie's comments, Keren opened the door to the club. The smell of cigarette smoke and hard liquor rolled out and over her. She coughed involuntarily and glanced at the group she'd arrived with. Every one of them stood there with their mouths agape. Two of them whistled.

"What?" Keren asked, suddenly nervous. She was not one for crowds or groups of friends. In fact, she wasn't much for friends, period. Being stared at by a group of women she'd only really just recently met did not sit well with her. Suddenly, she wished she'd armed herself. There was nothing like the feel of a twelve-inch hunting knife strapped to a thigh to make a girl feel secure both physically and emotionally.

"What?" she repeated.

"Nothing, but I take back the comment on you not being dressed to pick up a man."

"Gennie?"

"Sweetie, your dress is almost see-through. The streetlight behind you just let us all know exactly what you are not wearing under it."

Desperate for her weapons, as if she could have really hidden behind a knife, Keren shook her head. Modest, to a point. Brilliant? Not at the moment. "No, it's not that bad. Is it?" If the weight of their stares was any indication, it was bad.

Wonderful.

Marge from payroll put her hand on Keren's shoulder and smiled. "Honey, if I had a body like yours, I'd flaunt it all day and all night. Hell, I might even walk around naked so everyone else could admire it as well."

Keren wrapped her tiny matching cardigan tighter around herself in hopes that it would cover her upper body. Not one who enjoyed wearing a constricting bra, she had gone without, never thinking about how it might look. Thankfully, she'd gone with a tan thong or she would have been completely nude beneath the dress.

At least I wore a sweater.

Oddly, that wasn't very reassuring. Following the others into the nightclub, Keren glanced around nervously and prayed they'd find a table in a dark corner. Her stomach dropped when she saw Gennie heading straight for the dance floor. Loud techno music pumped from the sound system, causing her chest to thump along to the beat. The flicker of the strobe lights left her blinking and a slight headache began. More than human, Keren's eyes were sensitive, allowing her to see better at night. The club lighting and atmosphere were seriously impeding on her natural abilities to sense and react to danger.

You're being paranoid.

Partying it up and dancing the night away was hardly her idea of fun. Keren's idea of a good time ran more toward spending a quiet evening at home—no death, no monsters, no demons, no hunting. Since moving from New York to Pittsburgh, she'd discovered that almost all of the women in her office preferred the nightclub scene to hers. Not surprising.

"Come on," Gennie said, pulling her to the center of the dance floor. "Let's find you a man for the night."

"Oh, like I want to be pawed by a stranger." She did, but she wasn't about to admit that to anyone else. Of course, it mattered who the stranger was. Since she was not quite human, she couldn't contract human diseases or get pregnant by them, so sex wasn't risky for her. That being said, she had standards. They had to make her hot or forget it.

Always good to keep expectations low.

Gennie grinned. "Mmm, pawing."

Keren groaned and forced a pseudo-smile onto her face. Any hope of avoiding being felt up by a man she didn't find sexy died the minute Gennie ran off to dance with a blond cutie who, after tapping her shoulder once, had her in the palm of his hands. How any woman could fall that easily for a man was beyond her.

The second Gennie disappeared, someone slid their arms around Keren's waist. Her gut reaction was to rip the unwanted appendages off both herself and the person. Holding back, she took a deep breath in. She fought the urge to vomit as the man's smell assailed her.

"Mmm, you must be a model," he said. "A woman as tall as you with an ass like that can't be anything but."

You've got to be kidding me.

Keren's breath caught in her throat as the man slid his hands over her hips. Nothing about him excited her. His hot breath was laced with the smell of liquor and the liberties he was taking weren't acceptable. Twisting around, she glared at the man. His hair was slicked back from his pale face with so much gel that she wasn't sure if it was sandy blond or just caked full of stuff. It looked as though it would provide ample protection from head injury in the event of a bike or in-line skating accident. It had to be hard enough to bounce anything off of it. If he didn't stop touching her, she'd see if his helmet hair would reflect her foot.

He gave her a lecherous smile. She narrowed her gaze, doing her best not to strike out at him and knock it away. It was hard. "I'd really rather not dance right now. Thanks, though."

"Tu as un beau nez." His horrible pronunciation of the French language only added to his creep factor rating. His choice of phrases enhanced that tenfold. The man was a lounge lizard extraordinaire and was on her last nerve. Never a good place to be.

Deciding that she'd placated him enough, Keren smiled, still resisting the urge to ram her fist down his throat. If he dared to leer at her like that again, she wouldn't hold anything back. "Does that normally work for you?"

"What?" he asked, caressing her arm with the back of his hand and making her feel as if something was crawling on her. She shuddered. His touch sickened her. Often demons had that effect on her. Keren wasn't sensing any present, but that didn't mean they weren't there. Every now and then, a demon would slip past her natural, inborn alarm system.

"Does what work?" he asked.

"Telling a woman she has a beautiful nose with a piss-poor accent."

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Thinking she'd bested him, Keren turned her back to him to head to a table. He seized hold of her ass, digging his fingers into her cheek hard enough to leave a bruise. All too late, she realized that he was certainly no ordinary human male. Z AREK WATCHED EACH WOMAN CAREFULLY AS HE walked through the nightclub. It was one of his favorite spots to pick up one-night stands and tonight he wanted an extra-special one. He'd fuck her every way imaginable and he might even invent some new positions if the mood struck him. It mattered not who he selected. The female would go home with him. Not even a boyfriend on her arm could stop Zarek. All he had to do was lift a woman's hand, bring it to his lips, and kiss it. She'd be rendered helpless to her every desire, which more often than not coincided with his desires.

"It's good to have an unlimited supply of love slaves," he mused as he continued his dark prowl.

Once Zarek allowed the tiny glands in his mouth to release the natural aphrodisiac his species could secrete, risbrosius, all he had to do was get it on a female's skin and it worked almost instantly, freeing her inhibitions, opening her to endless passion—to Zarek. He had once instructed a woman to drop to her knees in the middle of a crowded club and suck him off. Fucking her mouth with hundreds of people watching them had been divine. Having her strip naked before she did it was even better. The best part was knowing that she wanted it too. Deep down the woman had always dreamt of feeling empowered enough to act out her fantasies, and Zarek had given her that gift. There wasn't a limp dick in the place that night. The woman orgasmed so many times he'd lost count. That was another side effect of the secretion—searing hot, seemingly endless pleasure.

So far, Zarek had found no shortage of sexy women in the club, but not that perfect one. The one that would be worthy of the fuck of her lifetime. He'd know her when he saw her. Blondes with little waists that stood only as tall as his chest were his preference. He liked them petite, submissive, and fair-haired.

"Ask and ye shall receive," he mused as a little blonde ran past with a human male hot on her trail. She would work nicely. Exactly what he liked. The male was of no consequence to him. Disposable. All humans were.

Zarek turned to follow her and stopped dead in his tracks. There on the dance floor was the most glorious woman he had ever seen. Close to six feet tall in her heeled boots with chestnut hair that hung just past her ample breasts, she was the complete opposite of what he normally craved. But tonight—tonight his cock wanted her and he was in complete agreement. It hardened instantly, seeming to point due north at her.

He couldn't tear his gaze away from her. Classically beautiful, was the first thought that came to his mind. Such a rare gift. A jewel still yet unpolished but beautiful all the same. If she had makeup on, he didn't see it. From his vantage point, the woman came by her beauty honestly and seemed unaware of it. That made her all the more appealing.

Zarek could easily imagine her exceptionally full, rose-colored lips wrapped around his cock as she took him down her throat. The urge to have her suck him off in front of the crowded club was not there as it should have been. No. The urge to steal her away to his lair and have her all to himself was what coursed through his veins. Sharing her with others was not an option.

The man she was with stood behind her, his body pressed to hers. It didn't matter if he thought he had her. Tonight, she'd have the pleasure of Zarek and no other. She turned slightly. Her brows drew together as she clenched her fists. Could it be that she was angry with the man who accompanied her?

This is almost too easy.

He watched as she twisted toward the man, the strobe lights illuminating her form from behind, and Zarek fought to draw in air as what felt like a truck slammed into him. It was pure, unadulterated need. A hunger for this woman and this woman alone. The dress she wore was almost entirely see-through. Every inch of her long, toned legs was visible. Every curve, every dip, was there for him to see. Even the tiny piece of material that covered the mound of her cunt was evident, almost taunting him. He was so caught up in her beauty that he almost missed her verbal exchange with the man near her.

"Does that normally work for you?" she asked, her voice silky, sexy, sultry.

"What?" the human male asked.

"Telling a woman she has a beautiful nose with a piss-poor accent."

The woman turned and looked directly at Zarek, yet she didn't seem to actually "see" him. He watched as the man she'd verbally shot down stormed up behind her. The second the man grabbed hold of her ass, Zarek saw pain register in her face. The beast within him surged toward the surface. The dragon wanted to claw the man to pieces before igniting him. Seeing the man engulfed by flames would certainly improve Zarek's volatile mood. That was his woman and no man should dare to look upon her, let alone lay a hand on her.

My woman?

Ignoring his proclamation of ownership, Zarek calmed his beast the best he could and used his supernatural speed to aid her. He seized the man's wrist and barely applied any pressure before he heard it snap. "You are to stay away from her. Understood?"

The man's already pale face drained of any additional color. As Zarek turned to check on the woman, she twisted around with her fist pulled back. Zarek's eyes widened as her clenched hand came into direct contact with his left cheek. The mere fact that she'd caught him off guard was humiliating enough, but that wasn't all—it actually stung. She wasn't a shifter. He would have sensed if she was. Whatever she was, she had a hell of a right hook. This beauty would prove to be anything but submissive. His loins burned with the knowledge, eager for the challenge.

Something passed over her emerald green, cat-like eyes, and she dodged forward. Grabbing his face, she pressed her lush body to his, rendering him helpless to her. It wasn't a state Zarek was used to being in. He was used to being the one in control. The one dictating what events happened next. Being at her mercy stunned him. He stood very still, afraid that if he dared to move, he would do something he never thought he would do—beg a woman to touch him. As she stared up at him, he forgot about her managing to hit him and got lost in her eyes instead. They were easy to envision staring up at him as he sank into her depths.

"Shit, I'm so sorry. I thought you were the dickhead who grabbed my ass."

Her voice was that of a siren's, so sweet, so perfect, it made his loins stir with desire. Granted, her choice of words was far from elegant, but that didn't matter to him. The woman's scent—honeysuckle and roses—only added to the predicament he found himself in.

Beg her to touch you.

His mind raced.

Touch her. Taste her.

Left with no choice and no will to fight his raging hormones, Zarek dropped his mouth down onto hers. She froze. As he released his natural aphrodisiac secretion from the glands in his mouth, he slid his tongue over her top lip. The gasp that came from her gave him full access to her mouth. Wasting no time, he plunged his tongue in to find hers. The risbrosius mixed with his saliva and the second her tongue greeted his, he knew she would succumb to him. All women did.

Wrapping his arms around her toned frame, he kissed her feverishly, unable to get enough. She tasted like nothing he had ever sampled before. Pure perfection. Normally, it was the woman doing this to him by this point. Instead, it was Zarek who pulled her closer, winded from the excitement of her being so near and her tang so exotic, so pure.

The woman placed her palms to his chest and fire shot through his body. Every muscle in his abdomen reacted almost violently. He gasped, afraid he might do the unthinkable and ejaculate in his pants. His cock throbbed with a need so intense that it almost brought him to his knees. Oh, he would certainly allow this woman the honor of being fucked by him for the entire weekend, not just a night.

A worthy one indeed.

As she pressed harder against him, Zarek became very aware of the fact that she was pushing him away, not pulling him closer as she should be. She should be clawing at him, doing her best to get him to fuck her regardless where they were. She should be begging him to slip his cock, which was still very much on the verge of coming, into her every way imaginable. That wasn't the case. Shocked, he drew back from her, still maintaining contact. The very idea of allowing the beauty before him to slip through his fingers sent chills through him. Her green eyes locked on him a second before she drew her fist back and delivered another blow to his jaw.

"Why you…you…you," she spat out as though that would explain everything.

Zarek was too stunned by her rejection to worry about how much he revealed to her about his kind. If need be, he could use his magik to erase her memories, but that was something he doubted very much he'd need to do. The risbrosius always worked and his body couldn't react to a woman who didn't want him. It was part of his line's honor, their code. The very fact that his cock was in a state of painful, seemingly never-ending erectness, and his mind fogged by thoughts of possessing this woman, told him just how much the risbrosius and his charms should be working.

"I-I kissed you," he stammered out, too stunned to come up with much beyond that.

Her eyes narrowed until they were nothing more than slits. Never in all his years of existence had an enemy given him a look such as that. It was cold, calculated, and attached to the most beautiful face he'd ever laid eyes on.

He sighed and it sounded almost dreamy. If he wasn't so enamored by the woman before him, he'd have dropped everything and contacted his brother Viktor immediately to request he be shot for behaving in such a way.

She pointed at him. "And that would be why you got punched—again."

"No"—he shook his head—"you desire me. You have no choice in the matter. I released my secretion…."

"Your secretion? Why you—" The beauty struck again, scoring another direct hit to the very tender spot on his jaw that she apparently had a mental "X" drawn on because she'd not missed yet.

How could she resist his secreted aphrodisiac? It was not possible. In six hundred years, Zarek had never once seen a woman so unaffected by risbrosius, by him. His cock should have shriveled in humiliation. It did the opposite. It pulsed with the desire to tame the wild woman before him. Pre-cum leaked from the tip of it, and visions of her sweet tongue running over it danced through his head. He wanted to fuck the headstrong female into submission. Something deep inside him told him that wasn't even possible. That only made her more tantalizing.

His conquests were legendary. He was sex incarnate. There was no way Zarek would accept defeat. Not when he was so close to his birthday —the end of his reign of sexual glory. No. He would go out with a bang. Or rather, he would go out banging a female as fiery as the one before him. That much he was sure of.

Rubbing his jaw, Zarek stared down at the female with a mix of curiosity and respect etched on his face. Never before had he thought of a woman as anything more than a means to sate his sexual desires. Aside from the obvious—that the woman appeared immune to his charms—this one was different in other ways as well. He couldn't put his finger on it, but knew he would certainly be putting his dick in her if he had any say in the matter.

The male who had originally been behind the female held his arm to his body and flexed his fingers. Zarek knew for a fact he'd broken the man's wrist. Shattered it to be exact. Seeing him move it meant one thing. The man was not human. Had his concentration really been that focused on the female that he had missed the fact a supernatural was near?

Obviously.

"Who the hell do you think you are? She doesn't want anything to do with you," the man said, daring to glare at Zarek.

Zarek snorted. "And you think she wants something to do with you?"

"She was dancing with me before you showed up."

A redheaded female rushed forth from the crowd that had drawn and stood close to the hot-tempered woman who made Zarek's cock burn. "Keren, what's going on?"

Keren? The green-eyed, hot-tempered one's name moved around in his mind.

Keren rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Hell if I know. Smarmy"—she pointed at the man with slicked-backed hair—"got all touchy-feely, and then my knight in shining cockiness"—she pointed to Zarek—"showed up to rescue me right before he decided that he had every right in the world to kiss me."

She did not just refer to me as cocky. He thought about her comments again and smiled. She did. Oh, she is truly perfect.

The redhead raked her hungry gaze over Zarek. He had little doubt that the woman would fuck him. Under normal circumstances, he would have taken her out back, bent her over and used her until he found release. Whatever was happening was certainly not normal. At least, not for him. His desires were for Keren and no other.

Pity.

His gaze raked over the redhead once more for good measure. When her attention dropped to his groin and stayed there, Zarek smiled, so did the redhead. "He kissed you, Keren?" she asked, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

"Yes." Keren glared at him. "Can you believe his nerve? I mean, come on, you do not just walk up to someone and plant one on them." She pointed at him. "And you especially don't do it when you've been eating"—she smacked her lips and rolled her tongue, appearing disgusted— "whatever it was you'd been eating. Eww, I think I'm going to be sick."

Eww? Was she saying he tasted bad? His brow furrowed. Preposterous. The woman was clearly mad. Sexy, but mad nonetheless.

Her nose wrinkled. "What the hell is that taste? It's still in my mouth, making—"

"Making your body burn with the need to have me buried in you?" Zarek stared down at her, a sly grin spreading over his face. It was about time the risbrosius worked. For a minute there, he'd started to think it had given out on him with the one female he had wanted to bed most in his long life.

"Pfft, hardly." Keren swallowed hard, looking pale. "It's nauseating."

Nauseating? His kiss was nauseating?

Nonsense. Outraged, Zarek seized hold of her redheaded friend and pressed his mouth to hers to assure himself this was not the case. The female folded in his arms before he was even done secreting aphrodisiac into his saliva. She was putty in his hands, moaning, pulling at him as she sucked madly at his lips. Pleased that he had not lost his touch, Zarek drew back from the female and smiled wickedly, feeling vindicated.

"Wow." She touched her lips gently and stared up at him with nothing short of lust on her face.

"Yes." He nodded. "Wow, indeed." Zarek turned, expecting to find Keren in a jealous rage. It would serve her right, daring to deny him and then pretending not to like his kiss. Much to his dismay, Keren wasn't the least bit jealous. She was not even there.

The redhead ran her hands over his torso. "Mmm, more."

Looking down at her, he knew he could get anything he wanted from her. He smiled. "Tell me where your friend went."

"Who? Keren?" the girl asked, rubbing against him like a cat.

He nodded. "Yes, Keren."

"I don't know, home probably. She didn't even want to come out tonight. We had to practically twist her arm." A sexy smile graced her lips as her hand moved over his groin. "I could twist something, if you want me to."

"Does Keren live far from here?" he asked, removing her hand from his crotch.

"Yes, but why worry about her? She was a fool to let you go. I'd never do that to you."

He had a feeling she was right. The redhead seemed a little too affected by the risbrosius. It was rare, but did happen. Zarek let his magik spill out and allowed it to run over her. It would lessen the effects within a few short hours. "Tell me, does Keren have a man in her life?"

"Pfft, no. Not a steady one. She tends to think like a man."

He arched a brow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning"—she tried again to cup his groin— "Keren likes to use men for sex and then cut ties with them. She thinks we don't know, that we don't hear her telling the men she goes out with not to call her again, to stop sending flowers, that it was nothing more than sex, but we do. We worry about her. No one can live like that forever."

"I know. Trust me on this." Zarek tossed more magik at her, giving her the urge to find her other friends. She turned and headed into the crowd. He, in turn, headed for the door. He had a green-eyed beauty to track down.