“Room number?” I asked, a tiny bit nervous about using the mind push without proper supervision.

“Six oh four,” she answered, looking over my shoulder at nothing.

“Thank you. Have a nice day. Oh, and forget about seeing us, OK?”

“As you wish.”

I smiled cheerily, gave Shing’s collar a jerk as he tried to twist out of my grip, and trundled my little gang toward the elevator.

“Your head will be severed from your body,” Shing promised in as mean a voice as he could rally. The whimpers of pain kind of took away the threatening effect, however.

“Aw. I wath hoping we could take the thtairth,” Jim lisped, narrowing its eyes on Shing. The dragon growled at it. Jim growled back, deliberately slobbering on his foot.

“Stop it, you two. Honestly, it’s gotten so I just can’t take them anywhere,” I told the woman who was about to get on the elevator. She wisely chose to wait for the next one.

“Thithy,” Jim said.

“We are not here to judge others. And please remember your party manners,” I reminded Jim. “The red dragons may have declared war on us, but that doesn’t mean we have to descend to their level and be rude.”

“I will rip out your heart and eat it before your eyes,” Shing moaned, clutching his knee.

I doubt I’ll forget the look on Sying’s—Shing’s buddy and Chuan Ren’s second bodyguard—face for a long, long time. The disbelief that chased horror when he saw his compatriot crumpled on the floor in front of the door (Jim had “accidentally” managed to trip Shing) was priceless, and definitely worth the aggravation of being the victim of yet another assassination attempt.

“Hi. We’re here to see Chuan Ren,” I said, pushing past the stunned Sying to enter the suite. “I’d appreciate it if you could tell her I’m here, and I’d like to have a couple of words.”

“Your death will be one that lasts a thousand years,” Shing whimpered as I half dragged him into the room. “Our poets will write many songs detailing just how horrible it will be.”

“Oh,” I said as Sying continued to stand openmouthed at the door. I pulled out the small gun that I had taken from Shing and pointed it at the second bodyguard. “Just... uh ... in case you had thoughts of saying no, or something. Would you mind removing any guns or other weapons you happen to have stashed on yourself?”

Sying closed the door, hesitated for the count of four, then reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a gun, which he laid on the table next to him.

“Thanks. Jim?”

“On it.” Jim brought the gun to me, then returned to check over Sying. “He’th clean.”

“Excellent. Now, where is Chuan Ren?”

Sying’s eyes flickered for the briefest of moments to the double doors across the room. He said nothing, though, clearly unsure of whether he should try to attack me or help his friend.

“I wouldn’t,” I advised as I grabbed a handful of Shing’s hair and prodded him into moving forward. “I’ve got your guns, Shing is in poor shape, and Jim’s really annoyed at having a tooth knocked loose. Why don’t you just open the doors for us, and we’ll get out of your hair.”

I don’t know quite what I was expecting Chuan Ren to be doing—maybe torturing an innocent child or plotting the overthrow of Western civilization—but standing in the middle of a small living room kissing someone was not it.

“Hi. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Aisling Grey, and I’m sick and tired of having your guys on me.”

Chuan Ren spun around, her long black hair flying out behind her, caressing the chest of the man she’d been kissing.

I took one look at that man—the broad, broad chest, long legs, and dark emerald green eyes, and fire literally burst forth in a ring around me. “Just what the hell is going on here!” I yelled as I stormed forward. Shing squawked as he was dragged along with me. I released his hair and marched over to where Drake stood with an extremely irritated look on his face, trailing fire with every step. “You are in so much trouble, buster! I cannot begin to tell you how much trouble you are in, but I will say this—it is trouble like you have never seen before!”

“Would it appease you at all to know that she kissed me?” he asked.

“Barely.”

“What are you doing here?” Chuan Ren demanded to know. “Shing, why are you on the ground? Did I not send you out to kill her? Can you not accomplish even the simplest of tasks? Where is Sying?”

I stopped glaring at Drake long enough to take two steps over to Chuan Ren. Without thinking about it, I pulled hard on Drake’s fire and slammed it into her, sending her flying backwards three feet. “Don’t think I’m not holding you responsible for this, either, you witch!”

“I think you lefth the B off that word,” Jim said.

“Witch!” Chuan Ren screamed, lunging forward for me, her long nails clawlike. I’m willing to admit that I would have been a goner if Drake hadn’t been there. I might have caught Chuan Ren by surprise the first time, but she was first and foremost a warrior, and had been for over a thousand years. I really didn’t stand a chance with her.

“Cease!” Drake bellowed, suddenly in front of me, his body shielding me from Chuan Ren’s attack. She snarled something at him but sheathed her claws, her dark brown eyes glittering with a deep red light that did not bode well.

“Mate.” He turned his head slightly to look at me.

“What?”

One eyebrow rose. I followed his gaze and cleared my throat. “Is there a fire extinguisher in this room?”

Chuan Ren spat something in Chinese. I lifted my chin, gave her a look that let her know I wouldn’t dignify whatever insult she had hurled at me with a response, and fetched the small extinguisher from where it hung next to the door. By the time I put out the fire on the couch, coffee table, two chairs, and Shing, Drake had managed to get her to the other side of the room. She stood with her feet slightly apart, her eyes burning, looking every inch a dragon lady.

“I am willing to admit I might have been a bit hasty with the first interpretation of what I saw,” I told Drake as I set the extinguisher down and stepped over the slightly smoking, still-moaning Shing. “But the fact remains that you”—I pointed at Chuan Ren—”just declared war on him.” I stopped next to Drake and leaned into him in a way that I hope screamed possession. “And as odd as dragon politics are, surely lip wrestling the person you just declared war on is not standard operating procedure.”