Chapter Fourteen #2
“Dance with me, please?” he corrects himself, turning to backpedal behind Eve and Cyran.
“I… don’t dance,” I laugh weakly as he continues to draw me deeper into the square, toward the center.
“You danced the night of your induction,” he retorts without missing a beat.
I’m reminded of Fenryn’s earlier words.
Lilith keeps no secrets.
“And what a mess that was,” Eve chirps over her shoulder, earning herself a scathing glare from me. “She’ll step on your toes.”
“Intentionally, I’m sure,” Ryc quips in return, and I give him the same look. He counters with a grin. “I’ll make sure Drunina is at the ready to mend my broken bones.”
“There’s a difference between I don’t dance and I can’t dance,” Cyran says and both Eve and Ryc laugh. “Perhaps Lady Ves lies somewhere in between.”
Is Cyran… teasing me?
The ever-stoic, hardly moved, unsmiling fae?
No.
Possession. He has to be possessed.
“Are you feeling ill, Cyran?” I ask, trying not to sound concerned.
“I’m quite well, thank you, Lady Ves,” he answers in his usual manner.
“Take joy where you can find it, Ves,” Eve says as I pass her and my head whirls over my shoulder.
She and Cyran vanish as the crowd surges back into place between us, lost in the sea of colors and faces.
Ryc picks up his pace, looking utterly foolish with that impish grin on his face as he continues to backpedal through the crowd.
People take notice, stepping aside with wide eyes that quickly become smiles and laughter.
Nearing the edge of the dancing crowd, Ryc stops, pulling me against him.
“Dance with me,” he says again, his voice low as he wraps an arm around my waist, my hand firmly clasped in his other.
My free hand finds its way to his chest as I stare up at him, wide-eyed, waiting with a held breath. He’s going to sweep my stumbling self off at any second and we’re both going to be a ridiculous sight.
Already my cheeks heat with the thought of the debacle.
But we remain motionless.
“I don’t know this dance,” I offer meagerly along with a helpless shrug.
“Then I shall teach you,” he replies. “It’s easier than you think.”
I glance around.
Couples twirl and move with such fluidity it’s enviable. Humans and fae alike. So many colorful pairings and smiling faces. We stand along the edge of the hypnotizing dancers, those stopping to watch gathered a small distance behind me.
“Ignore them,” Ryc says, drawing my face back to his by my chin. “This,” he swings a hand between us, gesturing at the space between us, “is what matters.”
I stammer.
So many eyes on my skin.
My pounding heart doesn’t slow.
“Do you trust me?” he asks as he steps forward, forcing me to step back else I lose balance.
“With my life,” I reply, the words breathy, and he takes another step, coaxing me to follow.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he muses, turning me away from the dancers in a graceful swing. His arm around my waist keeps me close. “I don’t know what I would have done if you said no.”
Again he steps toward me, but before I can settle, he moves again. Locked in his embrace and with the guidance of his hand on the small of my back, I move with him.
“Are you scared?”
My brows crease with the question.
“Of what?” I ask.
“Of us. Of marrying,” he replies.
I heave a sigh. “The answer isn’t simple,” I say and he waits for me to continue. “I’m not scared of you or being with you. I’m scared you’ll regret your choice.”
Disappointment is inevitable. He’ll come to see the demon I see, know the demon I hide. Learn the things I’ve done, the urges I fight.
Ryc halts, giving me a rather fierce stare.
“Not possible,” he says, his tone firm. “You’re no more demon than the rest of us. I feel what’s here.” He nods toward my heart. “Despite what you choose to share from here.” He leans close, pressing a kiss to my brow.
What a mess that must be.
To feel what I feel, yet only hear the thoughts I’m willing to share.
“Though,” he says, sweeping off again with me in tow. “I will fault you for lying about your ability to dance.”
It’s then I realize we’ve moved through the same dance as those around us, albeit at a much slower pace. Cursed by either the gods or Nektos herself, my heel catches and I stumble.
Laughing, Ryc’s arm tightens, keeping me balanced, but it’s not enough. As I plant my foot, my ankle rolls and my knee buckles. In an attempt to save myself, I bring my foot down once again—
Square on Ryc’s toes.
Bursting into laughter, Ryc somehow manages to keep me upright.
“I take it back,” he laughs. “You are a demon. The toe-targeting kind.”
“You did this to yourself,” I shoot back as I try to wriggle from his grasp. “You were warned.”
My wriggling fuels his stupid grin.
“I’ll do it again if you don’t release me, nyraphim,” I near snarl.
He leans close, running his nose along mine. In a low, velvet rumble he says, “I’ve seen you spar. I’m not concerned.”
“You—”
A ground trembling clap of thunder tears through the darkened sky, echoing through the square. A warning come too late. Before the sound ceases, the clouds open themselves unleashing torrential, cold rain.
I pause, lifting my face toward the heavens and Ryc does the same.
Shrieks, shouts, and laughter rise around us. People scatter, drawing their hoods and covering their heads as they rush beneath awnings and into shops.
Anything to escape the rain.
But escaping is the last thing I want to do right now.
Instead, I remain still. Letting the rain crash against my face as I close my eyes. I’ve never experienced rain this heavy, this sudden. It pours in sheets, soaking through my cloak and clothes, matting my hair.
My eyes fly open as I’m lifted from the ground, Ryc hoisting me into the air. He laughs, twirling with me, and I cling to his shoulders, laughing with him.
The rain creates a strange haze through the now near empty square, few others sharing in the marvel around us. As Ryc stops, I lift my hands, catching water in my palms. It fills my hands, cascading over onto his shoulders.
And an impish idea strikes.
“Make good choices, demon,” Ryc cajoles, but like the thunder, it’s a warning come too late.
My laughter turns wild as water pours over his head with a swift turn of my wrists. He sputters as it runs down his face, swinging me over his shoulder.
“Ryc!” My shriek is followed by laughter.
“You were warned,” he says, his grip locking my legs tight.
He sets off as my cloak seeks to smother me. The silk lining, exposed and near dragging over my head, grows water-laden in seconds. The damn thing robs me of any view other than the ground and Ryc’s calm, steady pace.
Before I can squirm free, I’m swung to my feet, left dizzy from the downturned rush. Now across the square, we’re beside an awning, but not beneath it. A closely packed group huddles together a few feet away, under the protection of the canvas, watching with smiles on their faces.
Ryc lifts an arm.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, with silence and a shit-eating grin, he pushes at the underside of the awning. My lungs seize as the utter shock of ice-cold water rushes over me—a flood of water emptied onto my head.
Drenched and teeth close to chattering, I stare at the godsdamned fae standing before me. Ridiculous grin, dark hair glued to his face, struggling to keep his laughter under control.
I deserved this.
I won’t argue that.
“You ass,” I hiss.
“Your ass,” he corrects.
Gods, I love and adore this creature in ways I never thought possible.
But right now, I’m going to end him.
He draws me into his embrace, wrapping his arms around me as he continues to laugh. Freezing, I curl into him, finding warmth despite his cold clothing. He steps under the awning, pulling me along with him.
“Are you done?” Eve’s voice calls, barely audible over the deep percussive sound of the rain hitting the canvas above. “There’s only so much disgustingly adorable I can take in a day. You’ve surpassed the threshold.”
She and Cyran stand beneath the next awning before a quaint tea shop. They share the space with others, all faces turned in our direction—all bearing smiles.
Eve included.
Cyran too.
Laughing, I snatch Ryc’s hand.
And race into the rain.