Booths were tucked in the far corner of the club. As I passed in front of them, I felt a twinge of charged air. Someone, or something, was near. I stopped and did a slow circle, attempting to ferret out the location.

Out of the light and obscured by shadows, I saw the top of a man’s head bent forward. His hair was nearly white under the intermittent lighting, but his skin was unlined. Hollows and contours became features as he looked up and spotted me staring at him. His brows were distinctly darker than his hair, which appeared to be light blond. Those eyes were dark as well, too deep for me to guess a color. His cheekbones could have been chiseled from marble, and that flawless diamonds-and-cream skin gleamed from under his shirt collar.

Bingo.

Pasting a false smile on my face, I sauntered over with the exaggerated walk of someone drunk and plunked myself down on the opposite seat.

“Hello, handsome,” I said in my most alluring voice.

“Not now.”

His tone was clipped, with a distinct English accent. I blinked stupidly for a moment, thinking maybe I had drunk too much and misunderstood him.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m busy.” He sounded impatient and mildly annoyed.

Confusion raged in me. Could I have been wrong? Just to be certain, I reached out and ran a finger lightly over his hand. The power nearly jumped off his skin. Not human, all right.

“I was wondering, um…” Stumbling over my words, I searched for an enticing phase. Frankly, this had never happened before. Usually his kind were easy pickings. I didn’t know how to handle this as a true professional would.

“Want to fuck?”

The words burst out, and I was horrified at myself for saying them. I barely managed to avoid clapping a hand over my mouth, never having used that word before.

He glanced back with a curl of amusement on his lips, having turned away after his second refusal. Dark eyes raked me appraisingly.