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Real fucking ladylike.
She exhaled slowly and forced herself to relax. She needed to keep the big picture in mind and forget about Julian, her father . . . all of it. Her eyes fell on Kragen. Tonight, he was the target, and she’d be damned if she’d let him slip away.
“What do you feel like? Have you had a chance to read the menu?” she asked softly.
Kragen leaned back in his chair, totally relaxed. Confident. “What do you suggest? I’m feeling the need for something exotic and can’t decide.” He took a sip of his wine, his focus entirely on her, “I’d love to taste . . . everything.”
Small bursts of energy flew from his fingers. They began to shimmer, wafting into the air like petals of mist. Her eyes followed them in surprise as they fell over her skin with the delicate touch of soft feathers.
Her surprise soon turned to anger, and she gasped as an odd sensation crawled along with them. It felt as if tiny fingers were running along her flesh, between her breasts and across her nipples.
Bastard! She felt her cheeks darken. If she was to be manhandled, it wouldn’t be by these means.
She was not playing this game.
She leaned forward, smiled wickedly, her leg stretching out underneath the table, and placed her stiletto-encased foot between his legs. She applied just enough pressure to make her point, and his eyes widened as the air around him stilled.
“Don’t pull that freaky mojo crap with me because I won’t hesitate to impale my heel all the way up your dick. Are we clear?”
The sensations stopped immediately as Kragen’s eyes narrowed. He studied her for a few seconds, then whispered softly, “Understood.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “Let’s order ’cause I’m starved.”
She signaled Paulo and proceeded to order for them both. Steaks, rice, and steamed vegetables.
Kragen took another sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving hers, and cleared his mouth. “You gonna remove your foot anytime soon?”
She laughed softly, dug in a tad more, then let her foot fall.
“You’re not what I expected.”
“Oh?” She grabbed a piece of warm bread from the basket and settled back. “Disappointed?”
“Not at all. I’d heard that the DaCostas were somewhat . . .”
“Stale? Old-world?”
He stuffed a good-size portion of bread in his mouth and chewed slowly before answering. “Bloodthirsty and cutthroat.”
His eyes ran the length of her once more, and a grin fell across his mouth, but he was more dismissive than anything. “You seem neither though you have spunk.”
His mistake.
“Spunk?” Jaden nearly showered Kragen with wine as she snorted. “Spunk will get you bitch slapped, my friend, and cutthroat”—she winked at him—“will get your balls worked over by six-inch heels.” Jaden shook her head. “Never forget who and what I am.”
“I don’t think you’d be on anyone’s forgettable list,” Kragen retorted dryly. His eyes glittered as he stared at her intently.
Her jaguar stirred and she was glad that Paulo chose that moment to refill their wineglasses. She was edgy, riding on the cusp of something reckless, and in her world, that could prove dangerous.
So she sipped her wine, mentally rearranged herself, and a half an hour later, when Paulo served their meal, she was in control.
They ate, made polite small talk, each skirting the issue that had brought them together. It was a dance of sorts, one she’d played many times over. And yet this was like no other.
Jaden was headed toward an end that she could not predict. An unknown, and that was utterly terrifying.
The fragile rhythm of the earth was crying out as darkness slowly embedded itself deep within her soul. The frenetic energy that slithered through the jungle bled death and destruction into everything it touched.
And it wasn’t just here in her small sliver of the world. PATU was responding to calls on every continent. They couldn’t train new operatives fast enough. Demon activity was up more than 50 percent in just six months. Hell, up until a few months ago, she’d never laid eyes on one. Now she was a goddamn expert.
