Chapter 10
Callum
The position we hold is not foreign to me—dance lessons were required when I was younger, the skills seen as necessary for a man of my station.
But I have never had a dance quite like this one.
Even standing still, this dance already feels like the most erotic moment of my life.
And not to say that I haven’t had erotic moments—I wasn’t lying to Lady Caterine, I’m no virgin.
There’s just something about being in her embrace, her sunlight-through-whisky-colored eyes on mine, that hypnotizes me.
She gets under my skin. Quite literally, in fact; my veins are on fire.
Lady Caterine flicks on her phonograph and steps back into my embrace, pressing our hips together as she guides me in the dance, a tango that is equal parts quick steps and sensual movement.
I clutch her to me as we move around the small space of her suite, my steps never faltering.
If she is surprised by my skill, she doesn’t show it on her face, but she does pick up the tempo, throwing more complex moves into the mix as we continue to glide around the room.
“Tell me about yourself,” she says, her calf curving around mine for half a second before flicking back to its original position.
“I’m sorry?” I keep my concentration on the movements, focusing on not missing a step, which is harder to do with her wrapped around me. Just that touch brought to mind an image of Lady Caterine’s legs enveloping me, tight around my torso, our cores pressed together.
“It’s one thing to learn to please a woman, but before you can please her, you have to win her over. So tell me about yourself. Woo me.” She smiles, her steps never faltering, her breath never stuttering.
The truth is I don’t usually have to get to know people, because most people I encounter already know plenty about me.
Add to that, I’m not sure how much I can reveal to this woman.
I’m supposed to be earning her trust and learning to trust her, but the truth is she is a Gifted with the power to manipulate emotions.
I would be a fool to give her any information she can’t find out herself.
“I have a younger sister” is what I finally come up with. It doesn’t even occur to me that Lady Caterine has already met said sister, the haze in my brain keeping me from fully functioning.
She purses her lips, like she isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Do you two get along?” she finally asks.
“We do. She annoys me to no end, of course, but we’ve become friends as we’ve grown older.
She’s the most formidable person I know.
We lost our mother at a young age, and I know that can’t have been easy for her, because it wasn’t easy for me.
I really admire the woman she’s become.” I bite my tongue to keep myself from expounding further.
One seemingly simple question and I’m already spouting off my innermost thoughts, letting her see more of me than I should.
Lady Caterine’s forehead creases and her eyes bore into me as if she can gaze into the very heart of me. “Sounds like you care for her very much.”
“I do.” I don’t reveal any more than that, and the fact that I care for my sister shouldn’t make me feel as vulnerable as it does.
It should be expected that I care for her.
I home in on the physical sensations surrounding me so I don’t find myself trapped in the emotional.
I slide my hand a little farther up Lady Caterine’s back, until my fingers can stroke the bare skin between her shoulder blades, the need to feel her skin under my palm almost overwhelming. “Do you have any siblings, my lady?”
“A sister as well. We’re twins.” Her breath catches when my fingers graze her back.
I pretend I don’t enjoy flustering her, somewhat mollified that I am not the only one affected. “You mean to tell me there are two of you?”
She laughs, her grip on my hand tightening. “Andra is the better of the two of us, in every way that matters.”
Her laughter bolsters me further. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, my lady.”
“You don’t know me very well, Your Highness.”
I lower my head so my lips are a millimeter from the curve of her ear.
“I would like to change that.” The truth comes out of me unbidden, as if my brain has been swept away by the music and her eyes and the softness of her skin, like there is some force greater than the two of us dancing around the room.
I forget who she is and why I’m here, forget my own name when she looks at me with raw desire flaming in her eyes.
She leans in, for just a second, letting my lips brush her delicate skin.
Then she seems to come back to herself, putting space between us and reinforcing our original position.
She studies me for another intense moment, as if she is trying to make sense of me.
Something shifts, hardens in the depth of her honey-gold eyes.
It shakes me back to the present moment. My arms return to their original hold, locking into place as if that could prevent me from falling under her spell again.
“You move well,” she says as she spins behind me, her hand draping over my shoulder and resting on my chest.
I take her hand in mine, spinning her back into my embrace, determined to rise to her unspoken challenge. I will not let her see how the feel of her hand on my chest makes my heart jump. “I have always been a quick study, my lady.”
“The tango is a dance of passion, and a dance of control.” She presses her back to my front, sliding down my body slowly, her hands dragging over my thighs. Her grip on my legs is nothing short of tactical warfare. “Are you confident in your abilities on the dance floor, Your Highness?”
She’s goading me and given the position of her hands at the moment, she knows the effect her body is having on mine.
I grasp her wrists, twirling her once before gently yanking her back to standing, noting her surprised gasp with just a hint of pride.
While I have her in my control, I tug her closer, draping her arms over my shoulders, watching those golden eyes for any hint she is as affected by the closeness as much as I am.
She hides it well, but it’s there. The flicker in her gaze, the catch in her breath.
It’s a victory. And a reminder. I must keep my guard up; I must remain focused on the task at hand.
Her fingers tease the curls at the nape of my neck. She shifts her hips and a wicked smile pulls on her lips when she feels me, the hardness brought on by this erotic movement we’re spinning across the floor. Her hands slide down my chest, to my waist.
I’m drunk on her, drunk on whatever this is between us.
Her citrus scent and her closeness and the feel of her body beneath my hands.
If her fingers moved lower, I wouldn’t stop them.
She’s pulled me under her spell with nothing but a few spins and turns, a few measly minutes of conversation.
Maybe I really am as weak as my father and sister have suggested.
The song ends and silence scratches across the room.
The breath returns to my lungs like I’ve been swimming under water and finally broke through to the surface.
I put a few steps of space between us, remembering Dom’s warning and what I absolutely cannot let happen in this room.
Remembering who Lady Caterine is and what she stands for.
Remembering what she has the power to do, and why I can’t let her get too close.
Chances are she’s already exerting that power, and I’m letting her.
It’s the only explanation for the urge I have to touch her, take her, make her mine.
She’s breathing heavily too, her chest rising and falling like it’s fighting to burst free from her corset. I can’t look away. “Not bad for your first try.” She turns away from me, starting the music from the beginning. “Let’s go again.”
It feels like another challenge, and I don’t know why but I can’t let her win. I chalk it up to the fact that if I am going to ever ask her for what I truly need from her, she needs to not only trust me but also respect me.
But only a fool would believe my actions in this suite have anything to do with the greater mission. All I see is her.
And so I pull her into my arms, leading her in the steps, our bodies pressed together until the room is hazy with sweat and wanting, until I feel almost frantic with needing her.
After our fourth tango, Caterine pulls away from me before the final note has flourished, heading straight for the bar. She pours herself a half-full glass of whisky and downs the whole thing in one gulp.
“Are you all right, my lady?” I try to keep the smugness out of my voice, but I don’t try very hard. Whatever this undefined game is that we’re playing, I’ve won.
“Fine,” she says sharply. “I think that’s enough for this evening.”
“Not even going to offer me a drink?” The balance between us seems to have shifted, and I can’t lie—I’m enjoying seeing her caught off guard.
She turns away from me, tension visible in the set of her shoulders. It takes a minute, but her stance softens and when she spins back around, it’s like I’m being greeted by a different person, her mask smoothly settling into place.
“My apologies. Pick your poison, Your Highness.”
“Whisky, my lady.”
She pours the drink and hands it to me. Our fingers brush, and the spark makes her grimace, but she hides it.
We clink glasses and sip, and she watches me from underneath her thick lashes.
“Where did you learn to dance like that?” She sidles closer to me, never dropping eye contact.
I swirl the whisky in my glass, focusing on the golden-brown liquor so I don’t drown in her eyes. “I took many dance lessons when I was younger. All part of the required training for the next in line for the throne.”
She arches one eyebrow but holds back the sarcastic retort I can read in her eyes. “What do you hope for the future? What are your goals, Your Highness? Now that you’re no longer in line for the throne.”
Between the alcohol and her eyes and the feel of her body underneath my hands, I forget myself and give her another honest answer.
“I think I could have been a good leader, my lady. Could be still. I’m sure you have many preconceived notions about me, based on who I am and where I come from, but I want to help people.
I care about creating a society that is more equal than the one we are currently living in. ”
She sucks in a breath, and I realize immediately the mistake I’ve made, the possible future I might have just hinted at. Lady Caterine doesn’t know my father wants me to kill him. It would be dangerous for anyone to have insight into our plans.
Suddenly the entire evening feels like a mistake.
I’m opening myself, breaking down walls I don’t break down for anyone, and all for a Gifted who has the ability to manipulate emotions.
Dom said her Gift can only be used when finding sexual release, but maybe she was wrong.
Maybe Lady Caterine is nudging into my brain as we speak.
It’s the only explanation, really, as to why I can’t shield myself from her.
I swallow the remainder of my drink, setting the empty glass down on the table much harder than I’ve intended, annoyed that she is taking advantage of my openness and furious with myself for letting her. “I should be going.”
I fumble my hat and coat as I throw open the door.
“Will you be back tomorrow?” she calls after me.
I spin around, just outside the doorway. I want to tell her no, but I can’t. “You will see me again tomorrow, my lady.”
She flashes me a soft smile, and I’m filled with the urge to press my lips to hers.
But that’s not allowed, even if it were advisable, which it most definitely is not.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Your Highness.”
I all but sprint away from her, out of the club, into my carriage, banging on the roof so the driver knows to hurry the hell up.
Tonight I will fall asleep dreaming about the way my hand fit the curve of her hip and how her fingers trailed along the nape of my neck.
But tomorrow night I will need to do something different, get my head on straight before I even think of stepping foot back in the club. She might have infiltrated my mind tonight, but I won’t let it happen again.
Or this woman may very well be the death of me.