Chapter 13
DROVA
Drova hadn't gotten emotional during the ceremony. Not at all.
Some of the other bridesmaids had been welling up and wiping the tears from under their eyes with their thumbs so their makeup wouldn't get smeared.
It had gotten especially bad when Ruvon described the bench at the playground, but Drova hadn't succumbed to the group sniffling of the other bridesmaids.
She was a Kra-ell warrior, and she had an image to uphold, so getting blurry-eyed when Arezoo had pledged her everlasting love to Ruvon was out of the question.
Except, it was hard to keep a neutral expression when everyone around her was swooning over the passionate kiss Arezoo and Ruvon had just shared.
Drova waited for the couple to come down the stairs, and for the other bridesmaids to follow the newlyweds before abandoning her spot at the foot of the dais.
But just as she was about to head out to find a place to sit, curiosity made her glance up to see what the Clan Mother was doing now that her task was done.
Except, she wasn't there, and a quick scan of the village green didn't reveal her location.
That was odd.
She couldn't have just evaporated into thin air. But the Clan Mother was a goddess, and she probably had mind tricks up her sleeve that no one knew about. Perhaps she could shroud herself in an invisibility cloak and walk away from the green with nobody being any the wiser.
Yeah, that was probably the right explanation.
Drova followed the other guests who were walking toward the reception area, where dining tables were set up around a dance platform.
Her dress kept moving when she walked, the floaty layers of the skirt brushing against her calves with every step, and with all that air circulating under the skirt, she felt half naked and missed her pants.
The bodice would have been tight on a human, but it hung loose on Drova's nonexistent breasts and overly slim waist. If not for the straps holding up the whole contraption, it would have slid down to the ground, leaving her naked save for her underpants and combat boots.
Not a big deal for a Kra-ell, who weren't bothered by nudity, but the immortals and the humans would have been scandalized.
It would almost be worth it just to see the responses, but Arezoo would be upset, and Drova hadn't gone through the trials of having her hair curled and her nails painted to make her best friend happy only to ruin it all for a gag.
But boy, was it tempting.
Drova crossed her arms over her chest, mostly to hide her stupid, sparkly fingernails, and stood at the edge of the dance platform watching Arezoo and Ruvon take their first dance as a mated couple.
Her best friend looked unbelievably happy, which was miraculous given how she had been when they had first become friends.
There had been a haunted quality to Arezoo's expression in those early days that had seemed to be etched permanently on her face, but there was no trace of it now.
Ruvon had done the impossible, dispelling every last shadow.
It was nauseatingly sweet.
"Not bad." The voice came from behind her right shoulder, and Drova's body responded to it before her brain caught up.
Plastering an indifferent expression on her face, she turned to face Pavel, who looked disturbingly handsome in black trousers and a dark grey shirt with the top two buttons undone.
His long dark hair was pulled back in a low knot at the base of his neck instead of his usual ponytail, and there was something different about the way he was looking at her.
"You clean up nicely," he said.
She grimaced. "Can you please not comment on the monstrosity I'm being forced to wear?"
He chuckled. "You look ridiculous."
"That's better. Thank you."
"But you also look good. One does not negate the other."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're confusing me."
"I don't know why."
He was toying with her, and she felt an urge to punch him in his too-handsome face. He was dating a human, and he had no business teasing her over her dress.
"Where is Lusha?" she asked.
He glanced around the green. "I don't know. Perhaps she didn't come. I don't even know if she's in the village."
Drova tilted her head. "So, you have an open relationship?"
"There is no relationship. Lusha and I have not been together in a long time."
"I didn't know that. Why didn't you tell me?"
He smiled. "You didn't ask."
"Why would I ask? It's none of my business."
She didn't keep tabs on Pavel's love life. He had made it very clear that he wasn't interested in her in that way because he considered her too young.
That was stupid, since he was only thirty-two, and the age difference between them was meaningless. Kra-ell didn't bother with human conventions of that sort, or at least they shouldn't.
Drova was an accomplished warrior, which made her a desirable mate for any self-respecting Kra-ell male, regardless of age.
He smiled. "That's true. Are you seeing anyone?"
The question took her by surprise. "No. Are you?"
"No."
For a moment, the world around them faded, and it was as if they were standing in their own bubble.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why what?"
"Why aren't you seeing anyone?"
He looked at her for a long moment. The corner of his mouth lifted in that annoying way that made her want things she shouldn't.
"Haven't found anyone worth pursuing."
She frowned. "That's not how it's supposed to work for us. Have none of the females invited you to their beds?"
He shook his head. "Oh, Drova. I should get you away from your mother for a bit. Stop thinking like a traditionalist. We no longer follow those rules."
That wasn't an answer. That was evasion, and she could interpret it as yes, he had been invited to share the beds of Kra-ell females but chose not to talk about it, or no, he hadn't been invited, which didn't make much sense.
He was a pureblood, he was handsome, and he was a decent guy even in immortal and human terms.
The music changed, the tempo picking up, and couples gravitated toward the dance floor to join the newlyweds.
Anandur and Wonder, Kalugal and Jacki, Lokan and Carol. Even Onegus was dragged by Cassandra to the wooden platform, and then Mo-red and Vanessa joined them.
Pavel reached for her hand. "Come on. Let's dance."
"What?" She tried to pull her hand out of his, but he held on.
"It's your best friend's wedding. You have to dance."
"Kra-ell females don't dance."
Kra-ell didn't dance for pleasure. Males danced to reenact famous battles and impress females, but that was it.
"Perhaps they don't on Anumati, but we are a long way from home." He finally let go of her hand.
"It's tradition." She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Tradition is fine, but so is absorbing new customs of the place where you live. We were born on Earth, not on Anumati, and we should make an effort to integrate."
She looked down her nose at him. "My best friend is the human girl who just got married, and I'm wearing a ridiculous dress because she wanted me to wear it. My hair is curled, and my nails are sparkling. I think I have met my integration quota for today."
He looked amused instead of impressed, which was annoying. "Come on." He held out his hand. "It's just a dance."
She looked at his offered hand, then at his face, then at the dance platform, where Anandur was doing a goofy dance, and Wonder was laughing.
She looked back at Pavel's hand.
"Don't complain when I stomp on your feet."
He smiled more broadly than any self-respecting Kra-ell warrior should smile. "Stomp away. I'll welcome the pain and savor it."
Oh, hell. That was the wrong thing to say to her. She was too young for that kind of innuendo, and he probably assumed that she wouldn't get it. But she'd read enough romance novels to recognize it for what it was.
Not that he could ever find out about that.
Her reading habits were a secret that only Arezoo shared.
"Don't lie," she said as if she hadn't understood his meaning.
"It's not a lie. I want to dance with you, and if it means a little pain in the feet, I'm fine with that."
"Fine." She put her hand in his.
His hand closed around hers, and her response was totally disproportionate to the small touch. She got lightheaded, dizzy, and for the first time in her life, she understood what the writers of the romance novels she'd read meant by swooning.
She'd swooned.
Over a guy.
It was totally unacceptable.
She was a warrior, a powerful compeller, she'd gone on missions where the wrong move would have ended in a body count, and she had not hesitated, she had not flinched. She had charged ahead and had come out victorious.
He glanced down at her feet and frowned. "Are you wearing combat boots?"
"So?"
"With the dress."
"Yes."
He stared at her boots for a long moment and then laughed.
It was not a polite laugh, or nervous, or guarded.
It was a deep belly laugh that shouldn't have been possible for a pureblooded Kra-ell to make because his belly was as tiny as hers.
But that wasn't the only shocking thing about it.
Pavel's expression was serious most of the time, which was appropriate for a warrior, and the laugh transformed him.
She forgot, briefly, to be irritated.
"What are you laughing so hard about?" she asked.
"The boots."
"When I warned you about stomping on your feet, did you imagine I was talking about doing it in some flimsy pumps?"
"Well, yes, because I did not look at your footwear. I looked at your face."
She shrugged. "I don't know why you are making such a big deal out of it. My black boots go perfectly with the damn red bridesmaid dress, and they are new and shiny."
He tilted his head. "Did you buy a new pair of combat boots specifically for the wedding?"
"It was my compromise with Arezoo. They are formal because they are new and unscuffed, but they are still practical, and I can wear them for years to come instead of donating them to charity, which I would have done with whatever Arezoo deemed appropriate for the occasion."
"I see."
She was growing tired of the fuss about her boots. "Are you going to dance with me or not?"
"Dance." He tugged on her hand and pulled her toward the platform.
When they reached an empty spot near the edge, he turned to face her and put his hand on her waist.
Drova froze.
It was not a panicked freeze. It was an information-gathering freeze, the kind a warrior did when something new entered the perimeter and needed to be assessed.
His hand was warm. It was placed exactly where it was supposed to be placed, neither too high nor too low, neither too tight nor too loose.
It was the hand of a guy who had clearly danced before and knew where to put his hand on a female's waist.
She lifted her free hand and put it on his shoulder, the way she had seen Wonder do with Anandur, the way the romance novels described, the way Cassandra was doing with Onegus.
His shoulder was solid under her palm.
"I don't know how to do this," she said.
"I'll guide you."
"Don't you dare make fun of me."
"Never. Just relax and follow my lead."
"Fine."
"Step back with your right foot when I step forward with my left. Then step left with your left foot. Then step forward with your right foot when I step back with my right. And then we do it again."
"That's confusing."
"It really isn't. Just think of it as fencing moves. Pretend we are sparring."
She smirked. "I could teach you a thing or two about sparring. Did you forget who my mother is?"
His expression turned serious. "No, I didn't. I also didn't forget who your father is. You are an exceptional fighter and a powerful compeller, but you don't know how to dance, and I do. So, listen and learn."
Drova didn't like it when people brought up her father, but then she had inherited her compulsion ability from him, and that was the trait that defined her, so there was no escaping it.
"Then do less talking and more teaching," she snapped.
His smile was back, and with it the stupid butterflies taking flight in her chest.
She got the first step wrong, putting her right foot back when she should have put her left foot somewhere else, but Pavel adjusted around her without comment, and on the second pass she got it right, and on the third pass she got it right again, and on the fourth pass her body started to figure out the pattern in the way her body was good at figuring out fight sequences.
"Look at you, Drova. You are dancing."
She nodded but kept her eyes on their feet.
The romance novels had prepared her for this. There was always a dance scene, and it always involved the heroine discovering that the hero smelled good and was solid and that something previously theoretical had become real.
The dance scene was where the heroine started to admit to herself the things she had not been prepared to admit before, like the fact that dancing was fun.
Dancing with Pavel was fun.
He was looking at her with that corner-of-his-mouth thing that was more pronounced than usual, and it wasn't the same way he'd been looking at her before. He was looking at her the way Ruvon looked at Arezoo.
Well, that was a slight exaggeration.
Ruvon looked at Arezoo like he couldn't believe his luck. Pavel was looking at her like he was still deciding something.
Drova didn't know what it was, and she wasn't going to ask.
She let him guide her through the step pattern and pretended that her heart was not doing things it had no business doing.
"You smell like cedar," she said, before her brain could stop her mouth.
"I do?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I guess it's the soap I use."
"It is a good smell."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"It was close enough, and I'm going to take it."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
He grinned.
The song ended.
Drova was not prepared for the song to end.
She had assumed the song would last forever, like the songs in the romance novels she'd read, allowing infinite time for revelations and quiet conversations and the slow buildup of romantic feelings.
The actual song lasted maybe three and a half minutes, and then it stopped, and the band slid into a different song, faster, less easy to hold a position through, and Pavel let go of her waist.
But he kept her hand.
"Another one?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
He looked surprised by her acquiescence, and his fingers tightened around hers. "Great. Let's dance."