The Final Formula by Becca Andre

who you expected?” I had to crane my neck as he straightened. He topped six feet by several inches—a good foot taller than me. If it came down to the Knockout Powder, it’d be a challenge to get a full dose in his face.
    He eyed my cat burglar suit. “I think I would have remembered you.” The corner of his mouth twitched as if he tried not to smile. “What are you doing in here?”
    Not the reaction I expected. Shouldn’t he be threatening to call the cops? Sneaking around in the dark and dressed like this, I must have looked like a thief—or an inept girl in black spandex. That would explain his smile. I got an idea. If I could convince him this was a prank, maybe he would let me go. No unconscious servant, no cops. Of course, I’d have to revise my plan for tomorrow, but I could do that.
    I took a step closer and lowered my voice. “Promise not to tell?”
    “That depends on your answer.”
    I chewed my lower lip in what I hoped looked like indecision and then continued in my best conspiratorial whisper. “I was dared.”
    “Dared?” He lifted a dark brow, but his smile encouraged me to continue.
    “To break in and steal one of the Flame Lord’s glasses.”
    He glanced over at the cluttered counter. “Ah.” His attention returned to me. “This is a rather significant risk for a dare.” His eyes narrowed, watching me.
    Apparently, I didn’t do inept very well. I’d have to try harder.
    “I guess I failed.” I looked up and gave him a tentative smile. “Unless you let me take one.” I raised my brows in question. Come on buddy, cut me some slack.
    “Well…”
    Yes. I flashed him a grin and moved closer to the counter.
    “I haven’t said yes yet.”
    I turned to face him. “Yet?”
    “This exchange seems a bit one-sided.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the island.
    Now what? I didn’t have anything on me of value. “You can have a glass, too. I don’t mind.”
    He snorted. “No, I’m sure you don’t.” He still looked like he wanted to laugh. I didn’t get what was so funny.
    “What?” I asked.
    “You really are a little dense.”
    A little dense! “Excuse me?” I flexed my wrist, adjusting the tube of Knockout Powder.
    He straightened and closed the distance between us. “It’s simple. Offer me a kiss for the glass.”
    I blinked. “You want me to kiss you?”
    “Don’t give me that. You’ve been flirting with me since I pulled you out from beneath that island.”
    I might have flunked inept, but this guy did clueless with style.
    A protest rose to my lips, but I hesitated. Here was a way out. I glanced at the clock on the microwave. If I didn’t meet James as we’d planned, he’d come looking for me. And he’d probably be furry. I doubted that the man would mention tricking a kiss out of an intruder, but he’d definitely tell his master about meeting a hellhound in the kitchen.
    I looked up at my current obstacle. Damn, his height had me at a disadvantage. If this scenario failed, I’d need that Knockout Powder. I hopped up on the counter beside the glasses. “If we’re going to see eye-to-eye on this, I want to be eye-to-eye.”
    Speaking of eyes, his were interesting. Pale gray near the pupils shaded to a rich charcoal around the perimeter. They once more twinkled with amusement.
    “Wouldn’t want you uncomfortable.” He leaned over and picked up a glass, turning it so I could see the etched flame. “Do we have an agreement?” He rolled the glass between his fingers, and the crystal bent the low light into rainbows.
    “It’s just a glass.” My voice came out in a shaky whisper, and I became aware of a quiver in my joints. Strange. I hadn’t been remotely nervous until now. I gripped the edge of the cool granite counter in an effort to steady myself.
    “A rather fancy glass,” his eyes dipped to the crystal, “with the flame and all.”
    “Pretentious as hell.” I caught my lip between my teeth, but it was too late to call back the words.