Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
The Prince chuckled. “It’s more like I’m a perplexing annoyance to myself,” he said. “And if you left, I would have to follow and I feel like that would lead to an argument when there are far more entertaining things we can do.”
“Uh-huh.” We’d started walking again.
The grin that crossed his lips held a boyish charm that made him seem . . . young and not so otherworldly, and it tugged at my heart. I quickly looked away.
“Dance with me.”
My brows shot up as my head cut in his direction. That I hadn’t expected. “I’ve never danced before.”
He stopped. “Not once?”
I shook my head. “So, I don’t know how to dance.”
“No one knows how to dance the first time. They just dance.” His gaze met mine. “I can show you that, Calista.”
I sucked in a heady breath full of that soft, woodsy scent of his. My name was a weapon. A weakness. I nodded.
My gaze dropped to his hand as he offered it to me. This . . . this felt surreal. My heart was flipping all over the place. And was it my imagination or did the violin from the lawn seem louder, closer? As did the guitar? And was there suddenly a melody in the air, in the night birds’ singing and the humming of summer insects?
“And if I prefer not to?” I asked, my hand opening and closing at my side.
A sliver of moonlight caressed the curve of his cheek as his head cocked. “Then we don’t, na’laa.”
A choice. Another that shouldn’t matter all that much, but it did and I . . . I wanted to dance even if I were to make a fool of myself. I lifted my hand, hoping he didn’t notice the faint tremor in it.
Our palms met. The contact— the feel of his skin against mine— was still startling. His long fingers closed around mine as he bowed his head slightly.
“Honored,” he murmured.
A nervous giggle left me. “I thought Hyhborn can’t lie.”
“We can’t. I spoke no lie.” Thorne tugged gently on my arm, coaxing me closer as he stepped into me. Suddenly, his hips brushed against my stomach, my chest against his. The fleeting contact was sudden, unexpected, and only then did I realize this wasn’t the kind of dancing I’d seen the aristo do at the less wild balls the Baron sometimes held, where there were at least several inches between their bodies and each step was a well-practiced, measured one. This was the kind of dancing the aristo took part in once the masks came out.
His hips swayed and the hand on mine urged me to follow. After a few moments, I realized that this kind of dancing was a lot like making love. Not that I knew what making love felt like. Fucking? Entirely different story, and this didn’t feel like that.
“Silence your thoughts.”
“W-What?” I glanced up, able to see only the lower half of his face.
“You’re stiff. Usually that means your head is not where your body is,” he said. “You’re thinking too much. One doesn’t need to think about their body to dance.”
“Then what do they do?” I asked, because it was hard not to think about how close we were— how tall and broad he was, and how that made me feel dainty, and there was nothing about me that could be described as such. Not even my hands. When he turned, I stumbled over my own feet and maybe his.
“You just close your eyes,” he told me. “Like you did last night, when your fingers were between your thighs and your mouth was on my cock. Just close your eyes and feel.”
I wasn’t sure how bringing up last night was going to help, because the sharp pulse of desire those words elicited was completely distracting, but I closed my eyes.
“Listen to the music. Follow it,” he coaxed, his voice deeper. Thicker. “Follow me, na’laa.”
Breath shallow, I did what it took to use my abilities. I silenced my mind, letting myself listen to the music— to the ebb and flow of violin and the sounds of the night settling around us, charging the air. There was a rhythm, one that tugged at my legs and hips. I followed it and I followed him, my body loosening with each passing minute and my steps becoming lighter. When he turned his body this time, I didn’t stumble. I followed. It was like floating, and I imagined that I was one of the sōls dancing above us— that we were.
And it was the strangest feeling, almost freeing as I danced with the Prince. I moved with the tempo, chasing the strings as they picked up. Sweat dampened my skin— dampened his. Strands of hair that had escaped the braid I’d twisted it into clung to my skin. The sweet-smelling wisteria vines tangled with us as we moved, as my breath came in quicker pants, each inhale causing the tips of my breasts to graze his chest. The gown was so thin that it always felt as if there were nothing between us. I wished it were the same for my hands, because I could feel his chest rise with shallow, longer breaths beneath mine.