Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
“Thatta girl,” Misha says when I drain the glass. He takes it from my fingers and plops it onto a nearby table before pulling me out onto the dance floor.
The song is fast, the kind of beat that makes me feel lighter—or maybe it’s the wine. Misha positions me at his side and patiently teaches me the choreography. It’s quite simple, but looks gorgeous when everyone does it together. A side step, a shuffle, a cross behind, with some waving arms and an occasional bow, then a quarter turn before doing it all over again in the opposite direction.
Sprites with glowing wings swoop through the air in their own dance, leaving streaks of light above our heads, and soon enough I’m grinning and keeping up with the new steps.
I’m so out of breath by the time the dance ends that I don’t complain when Misha wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him to sway to the slower beat of the next song. The moment I think our position might be too intimate, he leads me into a dip so deep my short hair nearly touches the floor. I laugh as he pulls me up again, and his eyes sparkle with amusement.
“Don’t look now,” he whispers into my ear. “But I think there’s someone here who doesn’t appreciate seeing me dance so close with you.”
I turn my head, but Misha stops me with a big hand on the back of my neck.
“I said don’t look.”
“But I don’t know who you mean,” I say, frowning at him.
He throws his head back and laughs again. “If I really have to answer that question for you, you two may be more hopeless than I realized.”
Finn.
In the next moment, Finn steps up beside Misha and gently nudges his shoulder. “I’ll take the next dance. She’s supposed to be my betrothed, after all.”
“Oh, is that why?” Misha asks. “To keep up the ruse? I thought it was something else.”
I expect Finn to argue, but he surprises me by winking at his friend. “Can’t a male have more than one reason to dance with a beautiful female?” Without waiting for a response, he steps between us, taking my hand in one of his and sliding the other to the small of my back.
“Enjoy,” Misha says, bowing slightly before walking away.
Finn watches him go, then turns his attention back to me. “You’ve been avoiding me tonight.”
“I figured you were too busy dancing with Juliana to notice.” I immediately regret that glass of wine. There’s no way Finn would ever miss the jealousy in a statement like that.
He grins, as if my outburst pleases him. “I haven’t danced with her even once.” His grin grows. “But you know that because—despite avoiding me all night—you’ve barely taken your eyes off me.”
I open my mouth to argue, then decide it’s not worth it.
“That is,” Finn says, “until Misha got you in his arms.” His grin falls away as he searches his friend out in the crowd. “It seems he’s grown quite fond of you.”
“He’s become a good friend.”
“I envy that,” Finn says.
“You have it.” Laughing, I pull back enough to look Finn in the eye. “You’ve known him much longer than I have.”
“Not your friendship with him,” he says, watching me. “I envy his friendship with you.”
I swallow. “You and I are friends, Finn.”
“Hmm.” He pulls me closer and tucks my head under his chin.
I can’t resist breathing him in. He smells like leather, pine trees, and the endless night sky.
“Perhaps we are friends again,” he says. The small circles he’s tracing on my back send delicious shivers down my spine. “But I think I had your trust once, back when I didn’t deserve it. I grieve that loss.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I say softly, but even as I say the words, I realize they’re not true. Not anymore. And that terrifies me. “How are you feeling?” I ask. He’s so hard to read most of the time.
“Fine, I think—good, actually. I haven’t had a spell in days.”
I release a breath. “That has to be a good sign, right? That it’s getting better?”
“I hope so.”
This would be the perfect time to ask him about the tethered and why he thinks that might explain the connection between us, but I’m reluctant to ruin the moment with a confession of my spying ways, so I keep my mouth shut. We dance in silence for a while, and I let myself enjoy the moment—his warmth, his touch, his closeness.
“You look really beautiful tonight,” Finn says.
I wish I could see his face. I want to see his eyes when he says things like that. I want to know if it’s a polite observation or something more. I want it to be something more, and the shame of that makes me put a little distance between our bodies.