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in his eyes and resonate through his words. Grown men—humans, shifters, and vamps alike—had all trembled at the sound of that voice.
    She laughed.
    “Ooh, scary glowy eyes. Do you try that trick on everyone, or just the odd ninja you meet when you’re planning a heist?” She glanced at her watch and, in spite of the casual amusement in her voice, he could tell her anxiety level was ratcheting up. Whatever she was up to, it looked like she was running out of time.
    “You didn’t answer my question.” He stepped closer, taking two quick strides, until he was so close to her that the barrel of her gun pressed into his chest and the scent of her tantalized him.
    She didn’t have it in her to shoot him.
    He was almost sure.
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    “Back away, big boy,” she told him, pressing her body weight, such that it was, into the warning until the gun dug into his skin beneath his shirt. “Don’t make me shoot you. It would be messy, and who needs that?”
    “What are you trying to steal?” he repeated, ignoring the gun and the banter, because it was pretty obvious exactly what she’d meant.
    She sighed and stepped back, then lowered her gun and flicked something small and silvery at the base of the glass case. “More than twenty-three thousand gems in this collection, and we’re both after the Siren. Too bad, you really are extremely luscious, but that gem is mine.”
    Before he could think of a response, she tucked her gun into a holster on her leather belt and stepped closer to him. Her scent teased him again, swamping his senses with the light fragrance of jasmine underneath a spring rain.
    “Perhaps just a taste? As a sort of good-bye?” she murmured, maybe to herself, and then she rose up on her tiptoes and pulled his head down to hers with one hand. With the other, she lifted her mask a little and pressed a soft, gentle caress of a kiss against his lips. Utter shock kept him motionless just long enough for her to drop her mask, step back, and press something hard into his abdomen.
    “Lovely. I really do regret this,” she said.
    And then she shot him.
    “You shot me—” he blurted out, but looking down, it wasn’t the expected bright red of his blood flowing out of his body that he saw, but bright red . . . feathers? A dart. It was a dart.
    And feathers. Dancing feathers, and the room spun around them. Magical feathers? Oh. Oh, no. Not magic . . .
    Drugs . . .
    As he hit the floor, his Atlantean metabolism instantly began to push the drugs out of his system. But instantly wasn’t quick enough, if the way the floor was trying to suck him into it was any clue.
    She bent down, and his senses reeled at the sight of her features all gone topsy-turvy, until his drug-hazed mind realized that he was looking at her upside down. Her mask had dropped down a little to show the wry curve of luscious lips. Even after she’d shot him, he still wanted to taste that mouth again.
    “I really am sorry, you know. Hopefully since you haven’t actually stolen anything yet, they won’t imprison you for too very long,” she said, with what sounded like sincere regret. “Best of luck to you.”
    She said something else, but by then the drug had temporarily—at least, he hoped it was only temporarily—overwhelmed his body’s efforts to push it out, and the gray pushing at the edges of his vision swarmed in to take over his conscious mind. The last thing he saw before the blackness claimed him was the small rectangle of paper, with its tiny scarlet image, that she’d dropped on the ground.
    “Ninja,” he managed.
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    Her unexpected peal of laughter echoed in the swirling dark.
    Fiona clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling the laughter. Fool. She was out of time and had nearly been out of luck. What was she thinking to kiss that man? He could have grabbed her and ripped her mask off or, worse, held her for