Dani couldn’t help it—her gaze dropped to Rafe’s mouth. It was unstoppable, a chemical reaction. This pull had always been there between them, but lately it was getting more intense. It drew her in faster, deeper—and she had a harder time swimming free of the undertow.
“Uh-huh.” She broke away, raising her arms to dance in a circle before facing him again. “So … tell me about Charlie.”
The flashing neon lights intensified the play of muscle. Rafe’s bare chest was drawing covetous glances as more space opened up around them. Onlookers swayed to the music and watched as Rafe dragged his hands up her sides before twining their fingers together above her head. “Charlie’s trouble,” he rumbled, rolling his hips toward hers. “She and Conall were the top of their class during training. Probably means she’s the smartest hacker left on the Hill.”
“Maybe. But she’s obviously not much of a company gal, if she’s down here, slumming it at a place like Convergence.”
“Interesting, isn’t it?” He used their joined hands to spin her, dragging her back against his chest as he ground against her ass to the rhythm of the throbbing bass beat. His lips brushed her ear this time. “Nobody’s ever who they seem.”
It was the very definition of preaching to the choir, but Dani found herself strangely reluctant to remind him of that fact. Instead, she bit her lip, and a jolt of something suspiciously like longing streaked through her when he reacted with a low groan from so deep in his chest she felt the vibrations against her back.
Then he was gone, leaving a trail of hot kisses down her spine as his fingers molded to the curve of her hips.
Startled, Dani turned. “Rafe—”
Then her eyes met his, and the words vanished. Her protest, her question, whatever the fuck she’d been about to say—just gone, like he had the power to crawl inside her head and take up so much space there wasn’t room for anything else.
His fingertips ghosted over her calves and trailed up her legs. His brown eyes glinted with heat as he passed her knees and finally encountered the hem of her dress—then inched higher.
Rafe’s thumb found the strap of her thigh sheath. He stroked along the edge until he reached one of her knives, and his lips quirked up.
“Hot,” he mouthed to her silently.
Dani sucked in a breath.
Rafe curled his fingers along the back of her thigh, and then they were moving, exploding upward as he rocked to his feet with inhuman grace and hoisted her up against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, then celebrated and regretted the action in equal measure when his abs clenched.
She stared into his eyes, captivated by the desire reflected back at her. At moments like this, she could almost believe that his attraction to her was more than physical. That he didn’t just want her, he wanted her, and he knew the difference.
They froze that way, his fingers hot on her bare thighs, their lips so close she could taste his shuddering sigh of regret.
Then she realized she could hear it, too.
The music had stopped. There was none of the chatter and ambient noise that Dani would have expected to rise in its place, either. The whole club was silent, barely breathing. Waiting.
Breaking away from Rafe’s gaze almost hurt, so she did it gladly, deliberately. She followed other people’s riveted stares to the balcony, where Savitri stood, looking like a queen about to address her subjects.
Instead, she met Dani’s eyes, smiled, and crooked one finger.
Rafe sighed again as he slid her body down the length of his.
More regret. So Dani released him quickly—gladly—and stepped back with a breezy smile. “Great game, Morales.”
Heat flashed in his eyes, and Dani turned away. It was just another thing nobody had time for right now. Especially them.
TECHCORPS PROPRIETARY DATA, L3 SECURITY CLEARANCE
Birgitte Skovgaard has been demoted from her position as senior analyst and placed on administrative suspension pending disciplinary action.
Internal Memo, July 2065
ELEVEN
There was an actual orgy happening on Savitri’s balcony.
Naked bodies writhed under the pulsing lights, flashing in and out of shadow. Moans and cries drifted to Gray’s ears, sounds that had previously been drowned out by the music but were clear as fucking day—pun intended—once he got this close.
Maya walked straight past the scene, her eyes carefully fixed on the dais at the far end of the room, while Rafe studied the sweaty, enthusiastic participants with an appreciative grin. Dani was the one who lingered, eyeing the various tangles of limbs like she was deliberating over a dessert cart.
Gray elbowed her. “Put your tongue back in your mouth.”
She huffed. “Boring. So many other places to put it up here.”
“I have a few suggest—” Rafe cut off with a grunt as Maya stomped one boot down onto his foot.
“Focus,” she murmured, still staring at the dais. “This is one of the most dangerous rooms in Atlanta.”
It was definitely in Gray’s top three, and he’d been in some goddamn dangerous places—including Protectorate headquarters. On the surface, it might have seemed like nothing more than hedonistic fun. But if you really thought about it, every single person literally fucking around on that balcony was ready and willing to make themselves vulnerable.
They’d only do that with full, absolute confidence in Savitri’s ability to keep them safe.
The woman in question sat on a large, velvet-upholstered chair at the back of the dais. The image was undoubtedly meant to evoke royalty, a benevolent but powerful queen looking down at her subjects from her lofty throne. She even managed to look regal, even though her clothes were just like Dani’s—half cyberpunk club kid, half high fashion. The black leather she wore made her already dark hair look even darker, and her skin glowed like the burnished gold that accented her outfit.
A stone-faced man stood beside and a little in front of her. He was huge, taller and wider than Rafe, his stature as intimidating as his impassive stare. His skin was paler than Savitri’s, and his hair, though just as dark, was shot through with gray at the temples. It also peppered his short, neatly trimmed beard.
A guard. Not surprising, except for the fact that Gray only saw the one. It wasn’t unusual for people in positions of power to have undercover protective detail—not being surrounded by bodyguards made them seem more approachable, plus it was easier for those guards to thwart an attack if they had a little of the element of surprise on their side, too. But Gray could typically spot a guard at a hundred paces, no matter how good they were at blending into a crowd, and he saw … nothing.
The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose in warning. Savitri only had this one guy standing between her and the rest of the world. Was she naive? Reckless? Or was this inscrutable bastard just that lethal?
No wonder Charlie had declined to accompany them upstairs.
Savitri crossed her legs as they approached, baring one leg to the thigh as she lazily bounced her foot. Her gaze slid over each of them in turn, sharp and intelligent, and when she tilted her head, Gray caught the telltale reflection of light off one of her eyes. Smart lenses.
Maya stopped a few feet from the dais. Rafe continued another few paces, stopping just out of arm’s reach of the imposing guard. He swept an elaborate bow that should have seemed ridiculous, but the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he peeked up at Savitri was concentrated charisma. “You summoned us, your majesty?”