“It’s about realizing you know everything about me, and I know near to nothing about you. It’s all surface stuff.”

He shrugged, but a small grin tugged on one corner of his mouth, making a nice little dimple in his right cheek. “You never cared before. Why the sudden change?”

Heat shot to my cheeks. “There’s no change … I was just curious.” I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest, embarrassed by how lame that sounded.

He slid his hands across the cool surface of the granite, leaning on his elbows and eye level with me. I held my ground, instantly drawn into the way his eyes started to change from sapphire blue to topaz blue. “You like me. Admit it.”

An instant sputter of denial erupted out of my mouth as he withdrew, looking like a damn Cheshire cat. He was trying his best to unsettle me, but he’d have to do more than that to get me unhinged. “Yeah, well, that’s the problem with sirens. They assume everyone likes them, and when one doesn’t they’re just so damned blind and ignorant, that no amount of denial can make them see the truth.”

“The truth being that you want me. Don’t lie. I can tell.”

I laughed without humor. “You’re drunk.”

A small smile played on his sensual lips as he finished cleaning up and put everything back into the refrigerator and cupboards. “Probably for the best anyway. Wouldn’t want you falling in love with me, bugging me at all hours of the day and night. Begging please, Hank, please. I need you nooooowwww …”

“Oh my God,” I said, rolling my eyes.

He wiped the counter, tossed the paper towel in the trash, and then placed one hand on the counter and the other on his hip, his smile fading. “The Throne Tree was a gift from my sister. I knew Pen as a child back in Elysia, but then lost track of him after I’d grown. Malakim is something I’d rather not talk about, and I came here to get away from my family because, when it comes right down to it, I’m a selfish asshole. So there you have it. Anything else?”

He stood there, waiting, his irises returning to their familiar hard blue.

I couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t move, yet every instinct was telling me to run. The air became charged with a dangerous mix of awareness and potent masculinity. I’d become prey—caught, stunned by the sheer beauty and power of his being.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, heart pounding through my eardrums. “Stop using your siren crap on me.”

His jaw tightened and flexed. “I’m not.” He lifted both hands in an innocent gesture, but his expression said “I told you so.” My reaction had just proved his point—I wanted him, and he hadn’t done a damn thing except stand there and be … Hank. That alone would’ve made most women cave, but I wasn’t most women, I was his partner.

“You’re an ass. A schizophrenic ass.” I hopped off the stool. “One minute you’re normal, the next you’re all moody, and the next you’re doing this … shit. Sober up already and stop messing with me.”

I started for the door, concentrating hard on putting one foot in front of the other. Without a shadow of a doubt, Hank had just completely unnerved me.

Door. Just make it to the door.

Somewhere along the way, my jeans became too tight, brushing faintly against a place that did not need any more encouragement.

The door went fuzzy for a second.

“Charlie.” He was right behind me. Why wasn’t I moving forward?

Don’t lean back, don’t lean back.

But I didn’t have to. Hank took one more step, his front pressed against my back, his warm hands sliding down my bare arms to encircle my waist, overwhelming me with his scent, his hard body, his heat. The assault cut through my defenses like a hot knife through soft butter.

My body took over, relaxing against him as his head dipped and his lips brushed my neck. My breath hitched. My stomach went light and airy. Holy God. His tongue flicked out and swirled over my skin as his hand glided slowly over my belly and downward. My eyelids fluttered, and my limbs became instant putty. I succumbed so easily.

With his other hand, he reached across and cupped my chin, turning my face to his. My head fell back against his shoulder. His hand delved into my hair, thumb grazing my cheek and lips settling against mine without hesitation. Hank completely swamped me. Took control. Did what he wanted, and I didn’t even put up a fight.

The scent of Yrrebé clung to his lips—like newly stripped bark from a pine sapling. His tongue flicked out, warm and soft, trailing idly along the seam of my mouth. My lips parted all on their own. Our breath mingled. I opened to him, letting him in, needing him in. His taste reminded me of Christmastime and roaring fires. His tongue slid against mine in a slow, deep rhythm, making my limbs grow heavy and my body tingle.

Hank kissed like he had all the time in the world, like this moment was the only moment, and he controlled time itself.

I was shaking, wanting more, wanting all of him and feeling ready to combust. All this pent-up need … overwhelming desperation to be touched.

As though he knew exactly what I needed, his hand slid under the waistband of my pants to cup me, applying just enough pressure to make my blood pool and my pulse beat between my legs. As the pressure built, our kiss deepened. I groaned, trying to move against his hand. I felt his lips smile against mine as his hand dipped beneath my underwear.

That first touch made my knees give out and a groan erupt from my throat. His arms tightened around me as he moved his mouth back to my neck, a simultaneous attack on two of my most neglected erogenous zones. He swirled two slick fingers around me, slow and steady, pushing me into a state of absolute abandon.

He bit my earlobe, and then spoke words so low and lyrical, so rich and possessive. The words I didn’t understand, but the effect it had on me was instantaneous.

Oh my God. My heart pistoned so fast.

“Jesus Christ,” I rasped out as my body peaked and then exploded beneath his hand.

His fingers kept moving, kneading every last pulse of the orgasm from my body.

I’d never come that fast in my life.

And then he held me, both of us standing in his apartment, locked together as his heart hammered against my back and his erection pressed against my ass. Five minutes? Ten? I couldn’t tell. Eventually my heart found its normal rhythm and my mind began to clear, but the lingering effects of the endorphin flood racing through my system left me shaken and weak.

It didn’t take long for the realization and total embarrassment to sweep in. I broke from his hold, turned, and stumbled back, my lips achy and swollen, my pulse erratic. I stared wordlessly at him, aware that my face was burning and everything about my reaction had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was right. And I wasn’t even under the influence of alcohol; I should’ve been the one in control.

And I’d become just another siren groupie.

“Stay, Inanni. Don’t go.” He closed the small distance between us.

What the hell was I doing here, acting like this? Like a cliché? “I … We have work to do. I …”

He hadn’t even needed the full force of his siren voice to push me over the edge. A few words, a kiss, a touch … My teeth ground together, and I tried like hell to force my humiliation down.

My nostrils flared as my chest expanded with the hum of Charbydon power, like a wakening beast, one that, in my current state, I’d have very little command over. My mind went cloudy again, but this time it wasn’t from seduction, it was from the chaos of my emotions and the power they stirred. I blinked hard, trying to climb out of the haze and regain control. I was trembling. My eyes stung.

“You think too much, Charlie.”

The disappointment in his tone struck me as condemnation. A short laugh erupted from my throat as I struggled to keep a lid on my power.