Danny mumbled a response, but she couldn’t make sense of it. What she didn’t miss was the fact that—even drugged and out of control—he was trying to brace himself on the bar so he wouldn’t push her off-balance.

“It’s all good,” she said against his ear—which she could reach because he was kind of bent over the bar. “I’ve got excellent upper-body strength.”

He didn’t scowl at her subtle reference to the time she’d beaten him not once but twice at arm wrestling. They’d been in their teens at the time, and he’d muscled up considerably since then, but she liked to mess with him by pulling out that factoid, did so now in the hope it would spark emotion, clear out a little of the fog. But his eyes stayed dazed as his hand clenched desperately on her top.

Catie stroked his back again on a roaring wave of protectiveness.

No one was allowed to do this to her people. And nemesis or not, Danny was one of Catie’s people. “Where the hell is Vili?”

The other man appeared out of the mass of people at that moment and gave a short nod before putting one thickly muscled arm around Danny’s waist and pulling Danny’s arm around his shoulders. Though Vili was as tall and well-built as Danny, Danny was having so much trouble holding himself up that Catie stayed at his other side, her arm around his waist and his other arm around her shoulders.

To outside eyes, it’d look like the three of them had had a few too many drinks—enough to get a little loose with their bodies but not enough to get Danny any bad press.

“You’re heavy, hotshot,” Catie muttered in an effort to keep Danny awake.

He was fighting the drugs, but it was obvious they were starting to win. And even Viliame couldn’t get Danny out if he became dead weight. Danny might be one of the fastest people on the team, his ability to sidestep opposing players legendary, but he was still a rugby player. The man was muscle on muscle in a way that was quite different from Catie’s runner’s physique.

“Come on,” she said as they weaved through the crowd; the happy partiers provided excellent cover for their stumbling progress. “You can do this, Danny.”

Her use of his actual name seemed to get through, and he managed to help them the last few feet off the dance floor. Probably because she mostly called him anything but his name. Hotshot, GQ, Skinny, and her favorite, Cutie. That last one always made him growl because he knew she was poking him just to get a reaction—and still he’d react.

Never would Catie tell him, but that growl thing was actually cute.