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thrumming through her, but she made no move to break away from him. She turned her head slightly to respond, and Damien knew that to an outsider, the two of them looked like lovers, about to go home and do unspeakable things to one another.
    I wish , he thought. Instead, he now had the very sharp point of a small dagger biting insistently into his abdomen.
    “You know nothing about my kind,” she said, “and you underestimate me. Try and turn me in if you want, Mr….”
    “Damien,” he said, amused again at her formality. “Damien Tremaine. It’s not ‘Mr.’ anything. And if you make me bleed on my new shirt, I’m going to be very put out.”
    “Damien, then,” she continued. “You can try to turn me in, but they won’t catch me. This is too important. I don’t know what’s going on, but I intend to find out… whether or not you try to get in my way.”
    “I believe you can count on that… kitten . And next time we meet, I’ll be stealing that terrible wig.”
    She pulled back just enough for him to see her eyes flash angrily as she yanked her hand out of his. He caught just a glimpse of silver as she slipped the dagger back into… gods above and below, was that a garter ?
    “My name is Ariane, not kitten ,” she hissed. “You won’t find me so amusing if our paths cross again. Good night.”
    With that warning, she spun on one sexy, spindly high heel and clipped away on those long legs of hers. Damien watched her go, hungrily taking in every tight little swish of her ass as she headed out the door. He wasn’t alone either. There wasn’t a man in the place who wasn’t drooling into his lap over her.
    Bemused and frustrated, Damien settled back onto the bar stool to finish his martini. Her scent lingered around him like a ghost. Ariane , he thought. A pretty little kitten with intriguingly sharp claws. He looked forward to“getting in her way,” as she put it. She might want to avoid him, but he planned to show her just how tenacious he could be when he wanted something.
    He wanted to win.
    And right now, he wanted her.

chapter FOUR
    S HE’D HOPED to sleep him off.
    Two nights after her initial encounter with Damien Tremaine, Ariane finally had to admit it wasn’t working. Between her fruitless search for Thomas Manon, who seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth, and restless dreams full of a slim, sandy-haired devil whose mouth she had an unholy fixation on, nothing was going the way it was supposed to. And she’d thought she’d planned for setbacks.
    With a frustrated sigh, Ariane adjusted the wig on her head, then stepped back to take a good look at the picture she presented. A little severe, she decided, looking critically at the violet-eyed wraith staring back at her. She’d really prefer another dress like the one she’d borrowed the other night. The black leggings, black V-neck tunic, and black boots were supposedly stylish, but with her coloring and the wig from hell—and damn that obnoxious vamp for being right about it—she looked a little… pale. Still,the dark color kept her less noticeable. She needed to be able to blend in.
    As though that was going to happen.
    With an angry little huff of breath, Ariane dragged the hated wig off her head and threw it across the room. She felt an unexpected surge of pleasure. Sure, throwing things was childish, and she’d probably messed up the stupid thing beyond what she could repair, but…
    Just getting angry and expressing it had felt good . It was a luxury she’d never before had.
    “Enough,” she muttered, deciding the wig was staying on the floor. Either she’d find a better one, or she’d just walk around au naturel . It wasn’t like she’d been so successful at going incognito anyway.
    A quiet knock at the door sounded just as she’d dug her fingers into her hair, freeing it from the tight coil she’d flattened against her head and sending the platinum locks tumbling around her shoulders.
    “Ari? You in