Owen laughed—a loud, hearty laugh. I’d amused him. He was laughing in the face of his own possible death. Despite the stupidity of his action, I had to admire his bravado. It, and this little spark of interest, of curiosity I had about him, was all that was keeping Grayson alive.

“So what do you really want?” I asked once Grayson’s laughter had died down.

“From you? I haven’t quite decided. But the possibilities are interesting.” His eyes wandered down my body again in a frank, assessing way that told me he liked what he saw. His gaze settled on the heart-and-arrow rune that hung from my black velvet choker. “Although I never would have taken you for one of Roslyn Phillips’s girls.”

A hard smile curved my lips. “I’m a woman of many skills.”

“I just bet you are,” he murmured.

“Let’s get down to business,” I said. “Because I have other things to do tonight besides stand out here in the dark with you.”

Like killing Tobias Dawson. Five minutes had passed since I’d left Mab Monroe in her own bathroom with Jake McAllister. Since I hadn’t heard any screams or scurries of activity, she hadn’t found his body in the bathtub. Which meant I still had a small window of time left to find, attract, and kill Dawson.

Owen Grayson nodded. “Very well. As I was saying, I was quite surprised to see you here tonight. But once I did, I decided to approach you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I thought you might like to dance.”

I stared at him. He seemed to be sincere. Owen Grayson attracted to me? My eyes narrowed. Or perhaps he’d just seen the rune around my neck and realized what it meant—that I was supposed to fuck anyone here tonight for free. Either way, I supposed stranger things had happened.

“But I wasn’t quite quick enough to catch you before you left the ballroom,” Grayson continued. “And then I heard you speaking with Mab in the bathroom. Which interested me that much more, Gin. May I call you Gin?”

“Sure. No need to stand on ceremony at this point. As for what you overheard in the bathroom, I can’t imagine why two girls talking about getting it on would be of interest to a guy like you.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice like hot gravy off a biscuit.

His violet eyes glittered in the semidarkness, and he smiled. “Of course not.”

“So you want to fuck me then,” I said in a blunt tone.

“That’s what this little conversation is all about. The talk about my knives, the stroll on the terrace, the handholding and come-on about what my scar sounds like. Interesting technique. Tell me, what was your next move? Maneuvering me up against the wall here? Or me accidentally falling on your dick?”

Grayson laughed again. “Of course I want to fuck you, Gin.”