Chapter 14 Dorian
DORIAN
The duet was perfect. Better than perfect, if Dorian was being honest. Their voices had woven together like they'd been practicing for years instead of hours, and the crowd's response had been everything Twyla could have hoped for.
Now, as they walked away from the stage with their guitars slung over their shoulders, the first fat raindrops began to fall from the darkening sky.
"Of course," Ivy muttered, tilting her face up to catch the moisture. "Perfect timing."
"The Silver Fang's just ahead," Dorian said, pointing toward the tavern's glowing windows. "We can wait it out there."
They made it under the tavern's wide eaves just as the drizzle turned into proper rain, the kind that sent festival-goers scurrying for cover and made the cobblestones slick and shining in the lamplight.
"Well," Ivy said, leaning back against the stone wall and watching water cascade from the roof edge. "That's one way to end an evening."
"Could be worse. Could be hail."
"Optimist."
"When it suits me."
She laughed, and the sound made his panther perk up. This version of Ivy, relaxed and slightly breathless from their performance, was dangerously appealing. Her hair had escaped its braid during their set, and now it curled around her face in the humid air.
"You know," she said, settling her guitar case carefully against the wall, "I wasn't sure about the star-crossed lovers song when you suggested it."
"And now?"
"Now I think you might have been right about the harmonies."
"Might have been?"
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late. I'm already composing my victory speech."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile was warm. "What would you possibly have to say in a victory speech about song selection?"
"Oh, the usual. Thank my family, my vocal coach, the Academy of Musical Excellence."
"There's no Academy of Musical Excellence."
"There should be. I'd be their first honorary member."
"For what? Having decent taste in ballads?"
"For recognizing that your voice could make grocery lists sound like poetry."
The compliment seemed heavier than their usual banter. Ivy's smile faltered slightly, replaced by something more guarded.
"You don't have to do that," she said.
"Do what?"
"The charm offensive. I already agreed to perform with you."
Dorian studied her face in the lamplight, noting the way she'd pulled back even though she hadn't moved. "What if it's not an offensive? What if I actually mean it?"
"Do you?"
The question was a challenge, direct enough to cut through his usual deflections. He could make a joke, turn it back into safe territory where neither of them had to risk anything real.
Instead, he found himself stepping closer.
"Yeah," he said. "I do."
Her expression changed as she looked him over. The wariness was still there, but underneath it was something that looked like curiosity. Or maybe hope.
"Dorian."
The way she said his name, like she was testing how it felt on her tongue, made his panther prowl restlessly. He was close enough now to catch her scent, and it made him want to bury his face in her neck and breathe her in.
"Tell me to back off," he said quietly. "If this isn't what you want, tell me now."
For a moment he thought she would. Her lips parted like she was about to speak, to put safe distance between them again. Instead, she reached up and touched his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw with gentle curiosity.
"I should," she whispered. "I should tell you to back off."
"But?"
"But I don't want to."
That was all the invitation he needed. Dorian cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers, giving her time to change her mind, to pull away if she wanted to.
She didn't.
The kiss started gentle, tentative, but the moment their lips met something ignited between them. Ivy made a soft sound that went straight through him, and her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer.
She tasted like the cider they'd shared after their performance and something darker, more complex. Like magic and moonlight and promises he didn't dare name. When her tongue swept across his lower lip, he groaned and deepened the kiss, backing her against the stone wall with careful pressure.
Her response was immediate and heated, her body melting against his in a way that made his control fray at the edges. His panther snarled with satisfaction, recognizing the scent and taste of mate, demanding he mark her, claim her, make sure everyone knew she belonged to him.
Instead, he gentled the kiss, forcing himself to pull back even though every instinct screamed at him to continue.
"Ivy," he said, his voice rough with want. "We need to slow down."
Her eyes fluttered open, dazed and dark with desire. "Why?"
"Because choice matters. Because you've been hurt before, and I won't add to that." He rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard. "Because when we do this, I want you to be absolutely certain it's what you want."
"When we do this?"
"Not if. When." His smile was strained but genuine. "I'm an optimist, remember?"
She laughed shakily, her hands still fisted in his shirt. "Presumptuous."
"Hopeful."
The rain continued to fall around them, creating a curtain of privacy in the lamplight. Ivy's breathing was still unsteady, and Dorian could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse where his thumb rested against her throat.
"You're different," she said finally.
"Different how?"
"Most men would have pushed. Especially after a response like that."
"Most men are idiots."
"Are they?"
"In my experience, yes." He traced the curve of her cheek with gentle fingers. "You deserve someone who cares more about your comfort than their own satisfaction."
"And that's you?"
"I'd like it to be."
She studied his face for a moment, searching for something he hoped she'd find. "I'm not staying in Hollow Oak permanently."
"I know."
"And I'm not looking for anything serious."
"I know that too."
"Then what are you looking for?"
The question deserved an honest answer, even if he wasn't entirely sure what that answer was. "I'm looking for whatever you're willing to give me. For as long as you're willing to give it."
"That's not very specific."
"Neither is life. Sometimes you have to be willing to figure it out as you go."
The rain began to ease, and the sounds of the festival resuming drifted through the night air. Their moment of privacy was coming to an end, but Dorian found himself reluctant to let it go.
"I should get you back to the inn," he said.
"Probably."
Neither of them moved.
"The rain's stopping," Ivy observed.
"So it is."
"People will start coming back out soon."
"Mm."
She looked up at him through her lashes, and the heat that flared between them nearly made him forget all his good intentions about taking things slow.
"Dorian."
"Yeah?"
"Next time, maybe we could find somewhere more private."
"Next time?"
"You said when, not if, remember?"
The reminder of his own words made him grin despite the want that was still clawing at his insides. "I did say that, didn't I?"
"You did. I'm just making sure you meant it."
"Oh, I meant it." He stepped back reluctantly, giving her space to collect herself. "Question is, are you sure you want to find out how much?"
Her answer was a smile that promised trouble and heat. "Ask me tomorrow."