Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Mackenzie
My nerves tingle as I walk out to center stage and pose en pointe with my hands crossed over my chest and my head bowed.
I’m wearing a stunning black and silver tutu with a diamond-covered decorative headpiece in my hair. It’s one of the most beautiful costumes I’ve ever worn in my life.
I should be savoring my last chance to wear this gorgeous dress and be the star of tonight’s performance one last time, but I feel like hell.
I’ve been trying all day to clear my mind, but that unsettling feeling from the other day is still clinging to the edges of my heart.
I’d hoped it would be gone by now or at least under control, but it’s gotten worse.
Maybe it’s because Dad isn’t here, and Mom has been acting strange since he left.
The velvet curtains draw open, and the sweet melody of violin music fills the air, touching every corner of the theater. The spotlight shines on me, swallowing me whole, and I surrender to the music, sliding gracefully into a pirouette to begin my solo piece.
I glide across the stage like I’m floating through the air. Then I look past the orchestra pit to the front row of the audience and spot my mother and my friends— Isabelle, Annika, the twins, Savannah and Sawyer, and Eilish. They’re all here.
Seeing them dissolves the angst inside me, and it floats away.
This ballet is called tThe Cursed Bride . The music and storyline have reminded me of a beautiful mashup of Romeo and Juliet meets Giselle .
It’s about a girl of noble birth who’s betrothed to a prince, but her heart belongs to her childhood sweetheart. They run away together and lose each other along the way for years. They only find each other again after a war, but her sweetheart is dying.
I’ve thoroughly enjoyed each performance, but I wonder if I found it easy to slip into character effortlessly because elements of the story have felt similar to my life.
Sometimes, the characters we play on stage are pieces of our true selves come to life.
One leap, one turn, one arabesque, and I’m lost in the music, then I own the stage and feel like I’m Mackenzie Domachenkov again. The girl who had to fight to be here. The girl who had to fight for this moment of happiness. The girl who had to fight for her dream.
Regardless of whatever outlandish thing is happening outside the walls of this theatre, nothing will ever steal my accomplishments from me. Nor the strength it took to get here.
It’s been great to live the dream this summer. A dream that wouldn’t have happened if Dad’s original plans went ahead. I’d be preparing to marry Levi now.
I flow with each note, my body welcoming the movements in my routine as though they were made for me.
The music crescendos into the bridge, and I get ready for the last few minutes of my performance.
With a wide smile, I lift my arms above my head, pausing with the last note of the string quartet. My gaze flickers upward to the balcony of the dress circle, and my pulse stumbles when I see a hooded figure standing in the shadowed edge of the alcove, watching me.
It’s a man.
A man as tall as a giant with a build like the Hulk.
It’s silly to take note of one person when there are at least three hundred people here tonight, but there’s something different about this person.
A tingle prickles the nape of my neck as I quickly take in his build and stature and height.
The shroud of darkness engulfs him, but there’s something familiar, something recognizable, something that tells me I know him.
As if he’s read my thoughts, he slides the hood from his head, revealing spiky hair.
A light suddenly bounces off his face, piercing the shadows. My mind fractures when I see him fully, and the air leaves my lungs.
Dmitri?
No way. It couldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be here.
My steps falter, but I pray no one notices. My mind switches to autopilot, carrying me through the next sequence of the routine while I focus on him.
On his face, on his body, on his presence.
It is him.
The longer I stare, the more recognition forms, and I know I’m right.
As if I needed added confirmation, the light brightens, and I can make out the scorpion inked on his neck.
I see his eyes, his firm lips, his sharp chiseled jaw. And that hair. It’s a little longer than when I first saw it. And it suits him.
He’s actually here.
Noticing my attention is fixed on him, he curls his lips into a smooth grin, and those eyes imprison me like always.
Suddenly, the darkness returns as the light bounces away, taking him from me.
But I can still see his shadowy outline and his face in my mind’s eye.
Holy shit. Of all the places I thought I’d see him, this wasn’t one of them. Dmitri hasn’t been to any of my performances since I was…
Well, not since before his brother died and we stopped being friends.
I regain my focus and control of my mind to finish up the piece
When I do, the audience erupts into exuberant applause. My eyes dart back to the alcove where Dmitri stood. But he’s gone.
Gone, as though he were never there.
Disappointment pushes my heart into my stomach, but I paste on a smile and curtsey for the audience.
With my heart throbbing, I scour the audience, looking for him.
Where is he?
He couldn’t have gotten far. I check the alcove again, the balcony, the floor above, the one below, to the side and back again.
God, was I imagining things when I saw him?
What if it wasn’t him?
Maybe I wanted him to be here so badly I imagined him up.
No, no, no.
I didn’t imagine anything or get it wrong. That was definitely Dmitri.
So, then maybe he left?
But why? The show has just begun.
Before the curtains close, I look for him one last time, but he’s nowhere to be found.
God, damn it . And damn him. And me too. This guy seriously knows how to drive me fucking insane, and I’m allowing him to.
How the hell is it okay to leave me hanging for three months, then I see him here for a few measly seconds, and that’s it?
What the hell kind of game are you playing with me, Dmitri?
Shit . I have to try to pull it together and push him out of my mind. If only for tonight. I can’t afford to fuck up.
It was bad enough when I first saw him and froze up, but at least I managed to style it out. I don’t want the final show to be a mess because of me. People will notice straightaway if I’m off my game because I’m one of the main stars.
Many in the audience, like my mom and my friends, have come to see the show more than once. Then there are others who waited to see it for the first time tonight.
I have to be great for all of them. And I have to be great for myself, too.
The next scene begins. At first, it’s a struggle to stop thinking about Dmitri, but I do it.
My strength returns as I look at my mother’s proud smiling face. Throughout this nightmare with Dad, she’s tried to be neutral—which I’ve hated because I know she doesn’t agree with him. But there are times like tonight when she’s given me the strength I’ve desperately needed.
Mom was a ballerina, too, but she never got to take it further because of an injury. Her family also didn’t encourage her interests. So even if she didn’t suffer the injury, she wouldn’t have been allowed to pursue her dreams. Sometimes, I watch her when she’s watching me dance, and I know she’s living that dream through me.
The night rolls on, and I keep going, focusing on enjoying the performance even though I’m also searching for Dmitri in the crowd.
Soon, the show is over, and I’m on the stage for the final bow with the rest of my cast.
The curtains close one last time, ending the show and the euphoric time spent in this world. The dream is over for now. Time to get back to reality.
But at least I have this experience to hold on to so I can dream of the future when I join the main cast here.
I’m just not looking forward to the journey.
We all congratulate each other and head backstage to change and get ready to sign our autographs for our fans.
As I make my way back to my dressing room, I’m stopped in the hallway by Mellissa Hargrove, the casting director. I owe her all my gratitude. She selected me for the show and picked me to be the prima ballerina. That was a cherry she tossed on my cake months ago when she saw me perform at Raventhorn’s annual production.
With a radiant smile, she throws her arms around me and gives me a massive hug.
“Oh, Mackenzie, my girl, you were absolutely sensational.” She continues to hold my shoulders when we pull apart.
“Thank you so much. It’s been wonderful to be part of this production.”
“No, no thank you . You are exactly what we were looking for, and you nailed the part. I was already impressed with you, but tonight’s performance blew me away.”
“I’m so thrilled to hear that.” I grin back at her, clasping my hands in delight.
“It’s the truth. I have good news to share.”
Hope fills my heart. I could do with all the good news in the world right now. “What is it?”
“We want you back for next summer’s production, and then we’d like you to start working with the main cast.”
The blood drains from my body, and my mouth drops open. I wasn’t supposed to do anything with the main cast until after graduation. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” She laughs with a hearty nod of her dark bob. “I’ve spoken with the course coordinator at Raventhorn, and we think we’ll be able to make it work without interfering with your studies.”
My hands fly up to my cheeks, and I stare back at her in shock. “I can’t believe this.”
“Well, it’s happening. Instead of doing the practical work at Raventhorn, you’ll be doing it here with us. We’ll probably get you in for a month or two ahead of the show to start rehearsals, and you can work toward the winter shows until after graduation. How does that sound?”
Tears of joy pull on my heart. I haven’t felt this sort of happiness in a long time. “It sounds like a dream come true. Thank you so, so much.”
“Honestly, the pleasure is ours. I know how badly you want to be with us. We’ve all noticed.” She chuckles. “At NYCB, we reward and nourish talent. Especially when it’s like yours. Our hope is for you to get to one of the principal roles one day. One day soon . You deserve for the world to see you.”
Excitement races over my skin, filling me with the warmth of anticipation. It can take years to become prima ballerina in the main show. The current one is so good she’s taken the lead for the lasty five years. But at the rate I’m going, I think I don’t have to worry.
“This is the best news ever.” My body is buzzing with excitement. I desperately needed this good news tonight. It’s the kind of news you hope for even though you know it’s crazy and will absolutely never happen. But still, you hope.
Mellissa rests a hand on my shoulder. “I knew you’d appreciate it. Let’s catch up in a few weeks when I’m in Boston. We’ll grab dinner.”
“That sounds perfect.” I try not to squeal at the thought of having dinner with the casting director of the New York City Ballet. As if I do that all the time.
“Good. I can’t wait. Now go change. I’m sure your admiring fans can’t wait to get your signature.”
We both laugh.
“Thanks again. See you later.”
“You too.”
She saunters away, and I watch her until she turns the corner and I can’t see her anymore.
I stay where I am for a moment, allowing the perfect news to process in my soul.
I know how lucky I am. Raventhorn is a great university that can secure your future in the career you want, but I’m one of a few people who’ve managed to achieve such a big career breakthrough so early on in their studies.
I hold the excitement in my heart as I continue down the hallway, but as soon as I’m alone in my dressing room, memories of Dmitri come back to me.
He was here.
I wish I knew when he left. It wouldn’t have made a difference, but at least I would have known.
I walk deeper inside the room, my body still vibrating from the news like tiny fireflies are zooming beneath my skin.
My steps falter, and a shiver slides down my spine when my gaze lands on a bunch of orange lilies lying on the dresser.
Orange lilies.
My favorite flowers. My favorite color.
Every summer, Dmitri and I used to get in trouble for picking our neighbor’s lilies. Orange lilies bloom between May and June, and Mrs. Appleby had the most beautiful ones I’d ever seen. He’d pick them for me.
Dmitri was the only person who gave me that type of flower. Everyone else would give me roses or another popular flower most people liked.
He wanted me to have something special from him. Something different. Something I knew only he would give me.
So, I don’t need to wonder who left these flowers for me now.
It was him . He was in here.
Slowly, I walk over to the dresser and pick up the flowers to examine them. There’s no name or note. No surprise there.
The curtains at the windows lift, and a look to my left reveals the fire escape door is open. It was closed earlier.
He opened it. This is another game. Like the ones we used to play as kids.
The scorpion wants the spider to follow.
I don’t even hesitate to think. I set the flowers back down, and seconds later, I’m walking out the door into the cool night air.
This section leads out to the back of the theatre in between the loading bay and parking lot.
It's dark, but a mixture of moonlight and the streetlights brightens the surroundings.
I take the metal stairs down, slowly looking around.
When I reach the bottom, I walk out a little toward the alleyway. Then I see him standing by the wrought iron railing looking out over the river.
My heart beats so hard and wild it feels like it might smash its way through my ribcage. My steps slow to a stop, and all I can do is stare at him.
His back is turned to me, so he hasn’t seen me yet, but I’m sure he knows I’m here.
I scan his wide, broad shoulders and the solid lines of corded muscle covering his back. Each one speaks of the hours of rigorous training he must put in to become the formidable athlete he is. Those muscles also tell the tales of what he’s done to become a Knight.
It’s hard to believe he was ever the scrawny boy next door. I was even taller than him for a whole summer. Now he’s at least six feet four. A whole foot taller than me.
Dmitri looks over his shoulder, then turns to face me.
I’m already in a daze just for being near him, but the moment his eyes lock on mine, my breath stills in my lungs.
He steps forward, making his way toward me in long graceful strides, reminding me of a jungle cat. I move toward him, too, feeling like I'm walking in a dream.
Unlike a dreamlike setting, where things appear languid and unhurried, everything around me is racing and the air is charged with wild electricity.
We meet in the middle, stopping a few paces away from each other.
My lips part to say something—any of the million things on my mind will do—but nothing comes out.
Dmitri looks at me, too, those eyes as vibrant and blue in the moonlight as they are during the day.
It feels strange to be so near to him outside of our usual sphere of existence.
Over the years, we've only ever been this close by accident. I almost don’t know what to do with myself.
Contract aside, I’ve imagined this moment happening so many times it feels like I’ve stepped inside my mind and I’m playing out one of my made-up fantasies. Except in those moments, we’re still the boy and the girl who used to play in the meadow, who never went a day without speaking, who couldn’t live without each other.
Now he’s a man, not the boy anymore, and the new tattoo of the Greek symbol for Sigma on the underside of his wrist marks him as a Knight.
It’s another reminder that he’s not the same Dmitri I used to know and that things are even more different than they were three months ago.
His gaze drops to my body, and he looks me up and down. It’s only then I remember I'm still wearing my costume. No wonder I was previously cold.
Now the heat from being near him and having his attention is warming me from the inside out, doing a number on my mind.
“You're here,” I hear myself say, my mind racing ahead of myself.
“I'm here,” he replies in that deep, rich baritone that glides over my skin like honey and rust. Smooth and rough. Just like him. “You flew to the edge of the sun again.”
At first, I'm thrown by his words, and my brain is slow to catch his meaning, then I remember the little code we had as kids.
Spiders and scorpions hate the sun. They both prefer the dark. Our darkness was a comfort zone that would have stopped us from taking the risks we needed to get what we wanted in life.
Going close the edge of the sun meant we accomplished something big. The last time I said that to him, I'd just been made a prima ballerina at the Raventhorne production. So much more has happened since.
“I flew.” I nod, biting back a smile. “Maybe beyond the sun this time.”
He nods, not surprised. The corner of his mouth slides into a faint grin, and I find myself wishing I could sell my soul to see one of his full smiles again. “Well deserved. You were great from the beginning to the end.”
My heart lifts in awe that he watched the performance. “You saw the whole show?”
“Which one? I saw a couple.”
My pulse leaps and my breath stills, tightening my lungs as shock courses through me.
He saw a couple of shows?
My God. He was closer to me than I could have ever imagined. And he was here in New York, not away like he usually is during the summer.
I’m so stunned, my mind struggles to form my next thought and a series of emotions ripple through me. Fascination. Excitement. Doubt. Confusion.
Opening week was six weeks ago. Why didn’t he let me know he was here?
We could have talked then.
“Thank you. Thanks for coming to watch me.”
He dips his head in a curt nod. “It seemed fair. You’re at my games.”
“That’s different.” I’m a cheerleader. That’s always been something fun to do to compliment ballet. It meant I also got to see him. Even if it was from afar. But back to the more pressing matter of us. “You know we need to talk. Right?”
“Yeah.” He moves, closing the meager space between us.
His proximity sends shivers of heat rushing over me, but I try to breathe and stay focused. “It’s been three months.”
“I know.” Those eyes fasten to mine like glue, and something dark and predatory lurks within them.
Dmitri moves even closer, and the air fizzles from my lungs. I’m left breathless, and all he’s done is be near me.
I realize he’s way too close. Closer than he’s ever been. Even when we were friends. His gaze intensifies, becoming sharp, unwavering, as if he’s speaking to me without words, telling me something secret. Something more.
Something I’ve always felt for him. For whatever this thing is between us.
And what is this thing?
The last time I checked, we were supposed to be friends, so there should be no thing . Truthfully, we’ve never really felt like friends .
I always thought I was going to be with him. That he would be my first everything. That he would be mine.
Then things changed, and I was left floating around in a black hole with no beginning and no end.
He tilts his head, moving even closer, and my skin prickles, every hair standing on end, charging with electric, with heat, with desire.
Focus.
Breathe.
Focus.
I have to know what’s going on. It would be foolish of me to stand here like a mindless fool, swooning over him, when there are so much more important things at stake.
“When are we?—"
He swoops down, crushing his lips to mine, stopping my next words with a kiss. A kiss that shuts down everything inside my body in a way that I’m not sure will ever work again.
I’ve barely had time to process that he’s actually kissing me when he slips a large possessive hand behind my head, angling my face so he can thrust his tongue into my mouth and deepen the kiss.
The sweet sensation of tasting him awakens my body like an engine roaring to life. My heart pounds, my lungs burn, my skin blazes like the sky on the Fourth of July.
His lips, demanding and unyielding, claim mine with desperate urgency that’s intoxicating, and the world narrows to this moment.
Every brush, every press, every teasing swipe of his tongue sends sparks skittering across my skin, igniting something buried deep inside me.
It’s dark and consuming, unravelling me piece by piece.
I should want to resist because we shouldn’t be kissing or crossing this line, but I can’t. I can’t do any of it. Not when I’m burning like this.
The taste of him floods my senses with something smoky and addictive, making me crave him.
My traitorous, trembling hands slide up from his chest, feeling over the muscles I previously admired.
His other hand curls around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I can feel every inch of his hard body shrouded in heat and raw intent.
The kiss turns hungry, and he kisses me like he owns me, like I’m something he’s been starving for, and he’s finally allowed himself to taste.
And, God, I kiss him back. Because I want him, I need him, and I’ve been starving for him for years.
I meet his intensity, matching his hunger with my own. A deep groan rumbles low in his throat. The sound reverberates through me and makes me forget how forbidden we are to each other.
Then he pulls back, and it’s like a shock to my system. I don’t want him to be done.
I realize he’s not when he places a finger to my lips and the rest of his fingers splay over my neck.
I’m already burning up from the kiss, but that mere touch has me paralyzed in mind and body.
Dmitri keeps a finger on my mouth, lingering there, his eyes drifting over my face then resting on my lips again.
“Soon,” he mutters the word on the edge of a breath. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Mackenzie.” The sound of my name being called pulls me from the daze.
Dmitri glances over my shoulder and steps back, his hand falling to his side.
My name is called again, and I realize it's my mother.
Oh God.
If she catches me out here with him, I won’t hear the end of it. Yet my heart is desperate to hold on to this moment.
Demetri steps back further as footsteps sound in the dressing room, coming closer.
“Soon,” he mutters, then he turns and walks away, leaving me more shattered than I was before.
Shattered and still wanting him.
Wanting more of what I shouldn’t have.