6. Black Masked Pas de Deux #2
I shouldn’t have said anything, but my tongue’s looser than usual— thanks, alcohol —and here I go spilling things I shouldn’t.
“It’s what Bart called me.”
His lips thin. “And what did you say back?”
My eyes widen. Whoops.
“Nothing.”
“Luna…” he warns, eyes narrowed.
I wince. “You’re not gonna like it.”
“Try me.”
“Okay… but remember I’m a brat sometimes.”
He snorts. “Noted.”
I worry my lip. “I said if he called me that again, I’d go fuck a Fury to spite him.”
I brace for impact, ready for hurt, or disappointment, or anger to hit me.
But instead, he bursts out laughing.
The sound is deep and rough as it tumbles from his chest. But most of all, it’s carefree. Like his lungs aren’t used to releasing something so unburdened. It’s heartwarming, and I… I’ve never seen it before.
He finally catches his breath, sighing as he leads us back into the dance, and I’m so enthralled, I barely stop myself from tripping.
“And what did he say to that ?”
“Nothing,” I answer, a little dazed by how happy he looks. “I think he was afraid I’d go do it, and I was afraid I’d let it slip about the pact.”
“The Troisgarde-Fury Pact?” His focus sharpens on me, and my stomach drops.
Double whoops.
“You know about that?”
He clears his throat. “Everyone where we’re from knows about it.”
I groan. “Jesus. I didn’t realize it was public knowledge. It’s not like there’s anything to even talk about. My dad shut it down years ago. It would’ve been a nightmare if I had to go through with it.”
Zy’s jaw ticks. “You sound like the pact is a curse.”
“Isn’t it? We’re not in medieval Europe, and I certainly didn’t choose to get married to a stranger.”
At that, I swallow. I guess this is as good a time as any.
“Uh, not-so-tangential segue here, but did you… think about what I said?”
I wish I could see his expression, but even without his mask, the strobes have started to cast a weird blur over his features.
“Uh, yeah,” he hesitates. “I did.”
I blow out a breath. “Like I said, I don’t want to stay here. I know you want to settle down in New Orleans, but I need out. I need to roam. I’ve been dying to go back to the mountains, and I need to leave the nest at some point.”
A soft smile quirks up his lips. “So do it.”
“You said you wanted to stay here.” I smirk, confused.
“What can I say? You’ve convinced me to change my mind.”
I want to laugh, but it’s just too little too late.
“Don’t you feel like there’s something missing between us? Some… spark?”
His thigh slides between mine as he dips me, going higher than any of my partners onstage ever have. My lower belly swoops, and my core clenches. I’ve performed moves like this thousands of times, but never like this .
“No,” he finally answers, eyes hard, and… darker than normal. “I think we’re fucking made for each other.”
My breaths catches in his thrall. “Made for each other?”
He nods. “You wanna roam? I’ll go with you. So…”
Then he whisks me back up, and lifts me, making me feel light and fluttery. Weightless in his hands. My tutu swirls as he pulls me back in and whispers in my ear.
“What’s it feel like to fly, little bird?”
My heart soars. Maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Maybe this is the spark.
Dizzying pleasure dances over my skin, stealing the breath from my lungs and making me lightheaded, but I focus on him. He dances with me so effortlessly, skilled, practiced even. It’s exhilarating, and I can’t help chuckling in disbelief.
“Who are you, and where did you learn to dance like this?”
“I’m your fiancé,” he says seriously, the word that felt like a cage fifteen minutes ago now giving me that same floaty sensation that I had in the air. But then he swallows before answering the rest. “And my momma taught me to dance.”
The weight in his voice presses on something tender in me. “You don’t talk about her much. Only your grandma. Grandma B, I think you called her?”
“Grandma B… yup, that’s what I call her. Good ol’ Grandma B .” He scowls. “She prefers to go by Bossie, and trust me, she lives up to the rep. That lady’s mean as a snake.”
I chuckle awkwardly. “I thought you liked her?”
“Nope. She’s a bit of a ruthless bitch if I’m honest. Don’t worry. She’d say the same. Proud of it, actually. My Grandma Francine is the sweet one. Fancy lives on the land with us. Still works Momma’s dairy farm.”
“Dairy farm? Grandma Fancy ?” I shake my head. “See? This is what I’m talking about. It’s like I barely know you. Before tonight, right this very moment, I’ve felt more chemistry being reckless with strangers at Pirates than the entire time we’ve dated! We haven’t even really kissed!”
Yikes. That was harsh. But it is true. Aside from tonight, I’ve never felt that same needy, breathless desire that I did on my twenty-first birthday.
These past few songs, I’ve tasted it again, and it solidified for me how badly I need it.
What if he goes back to being the boring white knight tomorrow?
“Strangers at Pirates?” he finally muses, a sly smile forming. “That’s awfully specific.”
He stops our dance long enough to check his phone, and murmurs.
“Thirteen minutes to your birthday.”
That grin creeps further up, and my chest flutters as he pulls me into his embrace again.
“Wanna do something reckless, little bird?” His lips caress my neck, right under my ear, before hovering over my mouth. “Let me show you just how fucking bad I want you, Luna Bordeaux.”