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Wouldn’t mind seeing that one bit.

My tongue peeks out to run along my lips before I turn back to my brothers. “His hands aren’t all over her.”

Cade’s head swivels between us. “You’re telling me that Mikhail’s date is our mate?”

“Can’t you smell her?”

A wrinkle forms between his brows before his eyes shut and he takes in a long breath through his nose, nice and slow, just like I had. His brain works to filter the scents in the room, probably working like the computers he’s so fond of. It takes a while for his golden-hazel eyes to pop back open, but when they do, his pupils are blown so wide his eyes look black.

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks next. “Good gods.”

“I know, right? Something floral—”

“Roses,” Ilya says over me.

“—and something that reminds me of home—”

“Bluebells,” Cade breathes.

I can’t hold in my laugh. “Obviously, you two know your flowers better than me. I couldn’t figure it out.”

Could’ve asked me, you know.

I inwardly roll my eyes.

“We need to do something.”

“Like what? Hit her over the head and drag her off?” I laugh.

“More like cave Mikhail’s head in,” Ilya supplies.

“No violence at the party.”

“You started it with your ‘We have to do something,’” I chastise in my best Cade voice.

He scowls at me. “I never mentioned assault.”

“Oh, but you were thinking it, weren’t you?”

Cade’s silent head shake is all the proof I need.

“I volunteer to speak with her.”

Both my brothers offer me dubious looks in lieu of support.

“You?”

“Why not?” My eyelashes flutter at Cade. “You know, there have been studies conducted that prove Americans find English accents more trustworthy than others, even their own.”

“I don’t think they had you in mind for that study.”

“Why ever would you say that?”

Ilya’s expression is droll, to which I grin widely.

It’s just before dinner is finished when Mikhail’s date rises and excuses herself. She turns on her impossibly high heels and heads for the restroom.

We need to go after her. Now.