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swore roundly, and his senses went on high alert. Everyone concentrated on the unfolding scene between D’Abo and the unknown human, who straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and gave the blustering witch doctor a look so dirty, it wouldn’t be cleared for late-night cable.
    “ First of all,” she bit out, pointing a finger at D’Abo and ignoring the shocked gasps of his flunkies, “I am not anyone’s girl, so I would appreciate the courtesy of not being addressed as one. Secondly ”—she poked her finger in the direction of the man’s chest—“my mama taught me my manners, which I used when I apologized for what was an honest accident. But obviously you were raised in that barn my mama always mentioned, because anyone with a sense of civility would have accepted the apology and moved the hell on with his life.
    “And third. ” She stepped forward and poked again, this time barely making contact with D’Abo’s kente-cloth tunic. “I. Don’t. Beg. For anything. From anyone. Ever. You got that? Boy? ”
    Asher was sprinting toward the altercation before D’Abo’s shocked gasp had managed to suck more than half the oxygen from the room. And here he’d thought he’d have the rest of the night off.
    Leave it to a human.

Three
     
Among the Others, a curious balancing act is maintained between embracing one’s identity as a member of a unique and powerful subgroup and desiring to be seen as more than a vampire or a shapeshifter or a demon. No Other wants to be judged by a stereotype, but very few want anyone to forget exactly how dangerous they can potentially be.
—A Human Handbook to the Others, Chapter One
     
    Just where the hell did this guy get off making such a scene over a spilled drink? For God’s sake, he’d been the one not watching where he was going! The bloody blowhard had been so busy pontificating to his adoring fan club that he hadn’t had any idea that Daphanie was about to intersect his path, and he sure as hell didn’t know how damned hard she’d had to work to stay out of his way. The jerk had almost run her over at least three times before one of his expansive and pompous gestures sent his arm slamming into the back of her shoulder, throwing her off balance, and resulting in the spilled root beer.
    Sure, she felt bad about spilling the drink on his shirt. That was why she’d apologized. But it hadn’t really been her fault, and she was not about to be lectured at like a three-year-old or insulted in front of a crowd of strangers; she didn’t care who they were. Let them chew off her fingers or turn her into a toad or drain her blood from her body. She didn’t give a damn. She wasn’t the kind of girl who let people walk all over her, whether they happened to be human or not.
    Which was why she’d lost her temper.
    She had tried to hold it together. Honest. But the jerk just had to keep pushing. She’d gritted her teeth in the face of being called stupid. There was the heat of the moment to consider, after all. She’d even been prepared to overlook his ungracious dismissal of her apology. But when any man told her that she needed to beg for his forgiveness? Oh, no. Daffy didn’t play that game. Jackass could go suck her left nut.
    In fact, she felt pretty proud that she’d restrained herself from telling him to do exactly that. Dude was acting like an idiot.
    Not to mention that he was putting a damper on her entire evening. When Quigley had tried to distract her from revealing him to her sister with the offer of a trip to an Other nightspot, it had seemed like a real opportunity. Since the supernatural world had been revealed to her, Daphanie’s head had been spinning with the sheer realization of all she didn’t know about it. She figured an evening out with the imp would give her a chance to learn as much as she could about the world her sister would be living in from now on. Plus, how cool was it to be able to meet not just vampires and werewolves and changelings,