CHAPTER TEN
Skye
I float through my first day in the castle, riding a high of happiness.
I can’t believe how much he renovated it in only one night!
Yesterday, it looked like something out of a period drama, with no toilets or refrigerator or central heating.
I dreaded having to move in—it turns out ancient castles are cool to visit and no fun to live in.
Every time I find a new thing Luke did for me, my body lights up with joy.
My bedroom is amazing, with a gorgeous four-poster bed covered in buttery-soft sheets and fluffy blankets.
There’s also the most adorable reading nook tucked into a padded window seat, complete with snuggly throw blankets.
It makes me wish I had time to curl up with a good book and Princess Buttercup and read away the day.
My en-suite bathroom is practically sinful with both a glass-walled shower stall and a huge claw-footed soaker tub mounted with book and wine-glass holders.
The kitchen’s not only fully stocked, but Luke also offers to fly into town and pick up anything I want from any of the cafés.
I feel more like a pampered princess than an employee.
Speaking of royalty, Princess Buttercup already has Luke wrapped around her little paw.
He’s placed cat beds everywhere, including the library reading room.
Instead of a water bowl, she has a fountain fed by an underground spring.
He even put a cat flap in the door that leads out into the castle’s walled garden, giving my indoor kitty a place to explore outside safely for the first time in her life.
She’s never going to want to leave.
As for me, in addition to all the creature comforts, there’s his library. His massive, amazing library full of books no one on Earth has ever read.
And then there are the smaller things, like the fact that the castle’s now pleasantly warm, with a magical fire keeping my bedroom toasty. Or the way he carries around my favorite cinnamon heart candies, pulling them from his invisible pocket whenever we run low while researching.
Fudgesicles, I’m not going to want to leave either.
I cook dinner that first evening, a hearty beef stew using pan-seared sirloin chunks and carrots and potatoes. Luke watches my every move with fascination, and when I ask him whether he knows how to cook, he grunts a no. “In Faerie, I hunt in my dragon form. No cooking required.”
“I could hunt if I wanted,” Princess Buttercup says, sliding around my calves.
I fight down a laugh. My cat’s never hunted a day in her life and just spent a half hour kneading her new kitchen cat bed like the little diva she is.
“But what you’re doing smells good. Not chicken good, but good.” Pleading amber eyes look up at me, brimming with hope, so I slice up a few strips of beef for her and dry fry them while the stew simmers.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she says as I make up a little bowl for her, her purr filling the kitchen.
Luke looks startled. “Is she supposed to sound like that?”
“She’s happy.” I chuckle. “She’s a good purrer no matter what, but she’s especially loud for food.”
“Of course I am! Food is the best!” she says emphatically, as if anything else is nonsense. She descends on the beef, gobbling it down in less than a minute, purring the entire time.
Soon the kitchen smells of garlic and meat and all good things.
Luke edges closer, leaning one hip against the counter as he watches my every move.
A pleasant feeling hums through me. I cook all the time, but Luke’s appreciative stare adds a whole new level of anticipation and care to this meal.
It’s really nice to cook for someone else.
We eat in the family dining room, gathered at one end of the table. I run a hand over its satiny finish. It’s a thick slab of wood, simple in style and cut to show off the beauty of the grain. “You didn’t replace this, did you? It looks like the one that was here yesterday.”
“It is.” Luke presses his palm to the wood. “This table has been in our family for generations.”
“I thought so. It reminds me of the table in the town library.” Heavy and solid, yet beautiful with clean lines.
I look down and swirl my spoon in my stew, sneaking peeks at Luke through my lashes, waiting to see him take the first bite. He goes right for a chunk of beef and makes a pleased noise, his handsome face lit by surprise.
I can’t help but smile, happy he likes it. My first sip of the broth is full of herbs and salt and the yummy umami flavor searing the beef adds.
Luke has three helpings. We sop up the liquid with buttered hunks of homemade sourdough bread and finish off the rest of the merlot I used for the base of the soup.
I serve my chocolate chip cookies for dessert and watch five disappear from the plate in quick succession.
Luke finally catches me watching and sets a sixth cookie back down. “Apologies. I got carried away by the novel flavors.”
“Please.” I slide the plate toward him. “You don’t know how happy it makes me that you like my cooking.”
“If you’re certain.” He frowns, but it’s one of the minor frowns—maybe grumpy number two, which I’m calling his thinking frown—nothing serious.
I take a second cookie for myself and wave at the rest of the plate. “Go for it. It’s the least I can do after everything you did to get the castle ready for me.” I still can’t believe he got it all done in one night, even with magic.
“It’s important that we be able work efficiently.” This frown hits at least a number four, medium irritation, reminding me that we didn’t find anything helpful today and Dance of Desire still hangs in midair, ready to suck us back into the book at any moment.
“We’ll find something soon,” I say.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Do you also have the power of divination?”
“No.” I flutter a hand. “I said it as a nicety, a way to stay positive.” It’s what people expect of me.
“I have little use for platitudes. What we need are facts.”
“You’re right.” And he is. I got us into this mess. I need to get us out.
We dive back into the research the following morning, and the next several days blur into a familiar pattern, the one constant Luke and his library and books. So. Many. Books.
That’s why it takes me several moments to realize what’s happening when I look up from a book to find golden sparkles surrounding me.
From beside me, Luke growls.
Then we’re spinning and spinning, and the world goes away. We land right in the middle of the dance studio, which is empty of any other couples.
“Good, you’re here,” Miss Michelle says, stepping out of the back. “I’m so glad you two decided to add some private lessons to your schedule. The extra practice is the only way you’ll be able to do the Dirty Dancing routine for the dance competition.”
Human Luke scowls, his eyebrow lifting. “Oh, is that what we decided to do?”
“Sorry.” I offer him a sickly smile.
I can tell the second the plot seizes control of us. Luke grins at me, his eyes glittering with promise. “Yeah, let’s learn to dance real good.”
I wince internally at the grammatical mistake, knowing the real Luke will hate using the wrong word.
But my body does its new eyelash-fluttering trick, blinking so rapidly I get dizzy when the room starts to flicker like someone set off a strobe light. A high giggle escapes me, and I bat at his arm. “Why do you care about dancing all of a sudden?”
“Wanna learn how to dance all sexy with you, babe.” He gives a pleased little nod, his expression smug. “That’ll be hot.”
“The hottest!” I titter. Flutter. Flutter. Blink.
He looks at the dance instructor. “The waltz is boring. Teach us the sexy dances, Miss M!”
“Don’t you turn that charm on me, young man. It won’t work.” She waggles a finger at him, but she’s grinning so widely you can see she’s totally charmed. “Once you learn the waltz, we’ll take a look at the more complex dances.”
She corrects our position and has us move through the steps while she claps out the three-time beat. Then with a click of the remote, music fills the studio.
Luke misses a step, and we get off track. He slams to a halt before he steps on my toes a second time.
Golden sparkles fill the air, and the world swirls around us. We’re dropped back into the center of the dance studio, everything quiet—no music, no instructor.
“Did we just reset?” I whisper-hiss. “After one little mistake?”
Luke glares at me. “It was hardly enough to be called a mistake.”
“I did say ‘little.’”
Then Miss Michelle emerges from the back, and the book takes over.
Luke asks for sexy dances, and my eyelashes flutter so hard they must be going for the Olympic gold.
It’s actually a relief to start dancing again, because at least then, I’m the one moving my body.
We make it further into the lesson this time, but as soon as Miss Michelle adds the step turn, we mess up.
And get sent back to the beginning again.
And again.
And again.
My eyelids go numb after the fifth round of power flutters, and Luke’s fake human smile takes on a dangerous edge.
“When will we have Groundhog Day-ed this scene enough?” Luke asks in those few seconds we’re allowed to speak as ourselves.
If I weren’t so tired, his use of my new verb would make me laugh. As it is, I mumble, “Until we finish the entire lesson without a single misstep.”
As mortified as I feel because we’re only in this situation due to my misbehaving magic, I’m elated to be back in Luke’s arms. I also love the expression on his face as we dance, because it must be the real him—there’s no way the book character would wear that same look of determined focus he gets when he goes into research mode.
Luke’s entire body becomes attuned to mine.
His every touch pushing for a reaction he can feed off of to take us through the next steps, the next turn, the next sway.
We become one, losing ourselves in the movement and music, and it’s everything I ever dreamed of when I imagined what dancing with a partner could be like.
It takes us two more tries of making it almost all the way through the hour-long lesson before we finally get to the point where Miss Michelle claps her hands and says, “Great job today, you two. Keep up the good work. You’re really coming along.”
A jagged breath of relief escapes me as the golden sparkles of the spell swirl us away and back to the library. As soon as my magic releases me, I slump backward in a chair, my arms dangling uselessly by my sides.
“What was that?” Luke jabs a finger toward the romance book hanging in midair.
“There’s simply no way the couple in the book is learning how to dance so quickly.
” Luke drags his claws through his long auburn hair, his tail lashing with irritation.
“This was the second lesson, and we’re to imagine they wouldn’t make a single mistake? It’s not realistic.”
“I think I know what’s happening.” I pant, happy to be holding still after hours and hours of dancing.
“Please elucidate.” He bites out the words.
“I think we might be skipping parts of the book, which means we’re moving forward in time faster than the characters.
Also, I bet the author didn’t write out every single dance lesson.
” I shrug. “It’s like a training montage in a movie, where they take several months’ worth of boxing practice and cut it down into a couple of minutes of clips.
Bam, bam, bam, and it’s done. The lead character becomes an expert boxer, and the audience doesn’t have to sit through all the real work it would actually take to get there. ”
“So what you’re saying is all of the dance lessons in the book are going to be like this from now on?”
I give a sheepish smile-grimace. “They’re probably going to get worse. It sounds like they’ll start doing harder dances soon. They’ll have to if they want to do the Dirty Dancing routine for the competition.”
He looks horrified. “And we won’t be released until we show an impossible level of expertise?”
“Not impossible,” I say. “Just something that’s going to take more time than the book’s plot will give us.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”
“Sorry, but yes. If we want to keep up, we’re going to have to practice dancing here in the real world, too.”
“Fuck.”