Page 16 of Lord of Dance and Desire

Samuel had been the one to throw the worst of the punches, so I was worried about the instigator tattle telling. I wasn't above putting in a word with Andrei, but my ten-minute skim the rules had turned into an hour-long detour and I needed to determine how to spin it.

“I'll grovel,” I muttered as our coach pulled away. “I'll walk in apologizing. Own up to my bad behavior and look as pathetic as possible. Tears will help. Everyone says so.”

After all, Mathen could attest we hadn't been more than a half block away from the coach, and I'd verbalized my intent not to be more than ten minutes before the fight kicked off. It wasn't my fault.

As soon as the coach pulled up to the house, I hopped out and rushed inside.

Chapter

Four

Heading straight to the living room, a quick glance revealed either Andrei wasn’t home yet, or he was in the courtyard. His hours weren’t predictable and I was hazy on how he spent his time each day. It wasn’t like he had a 9-to-5—mostly I didn’t care what he did.

But the glass screen doors were pulled aside, giving full view of the inner courtyard.

I glanced at Mathen, relaxing. “Maybe he’s not home yet. Good, I can?—”

Andrei appeared wearing nothing but his tousled hair, a sheen of sweat over his bare muscled chest and the tight flexible black pants they refused to call leggings but were leggings. I danced with men in leggings every day. I didn’t understand the prejudice against the word leggings. Especially from men who dressed in lace and makeup and jewelry like it was casual wear.

Then I looked in his eyes and skipped back two feet.

Constin and Mathen shouted, “Don’t run!”

Mathen’s chest bumped against my back, then he jerked away. Not far, but not touching. I froze.

Constin flowed into view, his gaze fixed to Andrei’s face. He moved slowly, eyes flinty and hyper-focused.

“You promised to come straight home,” Andrei said.

Quiet. Soft, almost breathy, matching the glaze in his eyes.

Rattled, I told the truth. “I changed my mind.”

Mathen inhaled and for the first time, cursed. But under his breath.

Andrei stepped forward.

Constin tensed, sinking into a subtle crouch.

“Don’t move,” Mathen breathed behind me, almost chanting. “Don’t move. Don’t move.”

My heart batted against the cage of my chest, trying to escape. From the look in the High Lord’s eyes, he would be happy to help free it.

Andrei tilted his head, surveying me with that remote alien focus, as if his mind was half here and half in a bloody Wonderland.

“You. . .changed your mind.”

I felt foolish, and resented feeling foolish. I’d intended to stop for a ten-minute chat and drink because I couldn’t afford to alienate my friends, and was sidetracked by a fistfight between ballerinas. It happened.

“You don’t own me,” I said.

Constin’s eyes widened.

“I don’t. . .own you?”

“Anali,” Mathen whispered. “Wrong words.”

All right. I needed to fix this. I didn’t usually speak before thinking but fear always made me honest.

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