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“Maybe a little too well.”
    I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, I’m not sure what you mean. I’m certainly not on my knees if that’s what you wanted. Or is that what’s got your panties allin a bunch? Your mojo,” I said, fluttering my fingers at him, “didn’t work and now you’re all atwitter?”
    He snatched my free hand with the uncompromising snap of a hawk’s talons. “Your stupidity is breathtaking. I’m surprised you’ve even managed to live this long.”
    “Moot point, given that I’m rather ageless at the moment, so a howdy-do and fuck you too,” I drawled sweetly. A security guard eyed us from the front door but I waved him off, plastering a smile on my face. Getting arrested for a peace violation wasn’t going to win me any favors with Moira. Protocol of secrecy and all that. “Let. Go. Of. Me.”
    Brystion’s eyes flashed gold but he did as I said. I grabbed his arm and shuffled him to a curtained alcove. There were a number of them scattered about the art gallery—comfortable little nooks of gleaming wood and bland silk, undoubtedly used to make artistic conversation over a cup of mocha pretentiousness. My gaze flicked toward him, something inside me aching as I studied his face. Whatever his issues were, they didn’t have as much to do with me as he was letting on.
    Nearby, there was a bench and a little table with a pot of red dahlias on it. I set my drink on the table and wiped my damp fingers on my blouse. “No offense, but you’re pretty stupid yourself. You get caught manhandling the TouchStone of the Protectorate in a public place like this and someone is going to kick your ass.”
    “You’re bluffing.”
    “Try me.” I sat down, watching him take a glass of his own from a tuxedo-clad waiter. “I don’t make the rules, Brystion, but I do know that there are certain . . . protections that she has in place. She can’t afford to look weak, even if she’s not here. An attack on me is an attack on her. I may seem stupid to you, but even I know that much.” I took a dainty sip of my drink.
    “And your point is?”
    “I’m all you’ve got, at the moment. So be a big boy and try using your words this time.”
    He tossed back the champagne like water, sliding down to sit beside me. I couldn’t help but watch the way his mouth lingered on the rim of the glass, condensation glinting down the stem. “You’re a fool.”
    “You’re making this so hard for me. Do I sit here and bask in the glory of your ego or do I get up and walk out the door?” I drummed my fingers softly on the table. “Let me think.”
    “You’re nowhere near as safe as you think you are.” He jabbed a finger at me. “Whatever ‘protection’ you think you’ve been afforded, don’t rely on it unless
you
have a way to back it up.”
    “Duly noted.” I took another sip of champagne, letting it swirl around my mouth. “That’s pretty bold talk from someone who damn near assaulted me this afternoon. If you’re so concerned about my well-being there are better ways of showing it.”
    He leaned forward so his face hovered within inches of mine. “And you’re pretty bold for someone who’s lying through her teeth.”
    I froze. Shit. Did he know? I set the glass down carefully, smoothing out my skirt until I managed to compose my expression. “Perhaps you should tell me what the hell you’re really talking about.”
    “My sister is missing.”
    I exhaled slowly, my eyes darting toward the painting. “All right. That’s a good start. How does that concern me?”
    “It doesn’t,” he snapped, drawing himself upright. “It
should
concern Moira, but as you said, she’s not here. So I’m stuck with you.”
    “Listen, I’m sure your sister is a lovely . . . succubus, but I fail to see why Moira needs to be involved with—”
    “Don’t patronize me, little TouchStone,” he said coldly. “You set this meeting up; I expect some answers.”
    “I never set anything up.