Page 8 of Bound By Dance and Desire

He was waiting for me to respond so I shrugged. “I'm a bit heavier than the wind.”

He stepped closer, lips curving in a smile I was certain he thought made him look charming and harmless. His lashes lowered over his eyes, veiling the bright color, a sly seductiveness a little too toothy to be innocent. But he wanted me to think so. I almost turned tail and ran but an older instinct took over; I didn’t move.

Don't catch the attention of a Lord, and if you caught the attention of aHighLord—not to be confused withtheHigh Lord—there was absolutely nothing anyone could do for you but notify your next of kin.

The subtext being that you would soon be dead, or at least wish you were.

“Droit de seigneur?” I’d asked the Fae instructor, not really expecting her to understand the term.

But she’d stopped, and looked at me. “Droit de seigneuris shallow in comparison.”

Saturated teal eyes fixed on my face and reminded me of a costume the prima ballerina had worn in my former company's rendition of Swan Lake. Warm summery blue that under the right lighting could diffuse to something softer, nearly sweet.

“I can’t lie to you,” he said, voice still too gentle, too coaxing, speaking English with an accent I’d find swoonworthy if fear wasn’t growing. No man without an agenda bothered to use that kind of coaxing tone.

I didn’t trust men with agendas. They always tried to break me on them, and got mad when I walked away instead.

Uneasy, I tried to look away, which was more difficult than it should have been, especially since he looked like a past mistake, times one hundred, waiting to happenagain.

An internal tug drew me to him despite common sense screaming to get away.

“I train very hard to make it look easy.”

Emerald-onyx hair slithered across his shoulders as he tilted his head. It was shorter than his companion's, coming below his shoulder blades. The Legolas template wore his in a long tail to his waist.

“Where do you study?”

The question didn't seem idle, more like a subtle fish for information.

“I'm not a student here. I'm in the city to audition for the High Lord's company.”

There. A not so subtle warning that I was informally under Lord Issahelle’s protection. We'd been told the High Lord punished those who interfered with her dancers, including the prospectives. . .but that, again, she wouldn’t intervene if aLordshowed an interest.

The curve of his lips turned pained, as if he carried on an internal struggle as he talked to me.

“An honorable endeavor. I'm certain you'll have your pick of patrons among the Houses who support human artists.”

Fae couldn't lie. I caught my breath, hope stirring in my chest. “I work to be worthy of it.”

“And your name, little mortal?”

The inner tug pulled, sucking me inward like a whirlpool in a summer sea.

Such a supposedly innocent question. He wasn't trying to be subtle. His eyes were patient, but that patience felt like a polite lie. What did he want with me? Classically sculpted features—too bad he wasn't a dancer. Beauty didn't mean goodness, though, I couldn't fall into the trap of letting down my guard for a pretty face, especially not a Fae pretty face. Why was hestaring?

A litany of Cassanian words filled my mind, their cadence holding the weight of want, of need, of oath. Coaxing words, words like the drumbeat of hundreds of heels on a stage, a voice I recognized though internally it was deeper, more commanding, demanding everything I was and had to give and if I didn’t give, he wouldtake?—

I staggered back a step, my knees almost buckling and the man was suddenly in front of me, grabbing my upper arms with the certain strength of someone who felt they had arightto touch.

Fingers seared my skin and I lifted my hands defensively to push him away, meeting a focused gaze burning with emotions that made no sense.

No, I wouldn’t repeat this cycle again. I’d promised myself last time would beit.

But everything I feared, everything I used to allow myself to want before my body proved too much forevery single manI tried to have a relationship with, I saw in his eyes.

“Hasannah,” I said, forcing my body to relax. Hoping the lack of resistance would defuse whatever was currently blowing up in my face.

Slowly, he released me and stepped back. I breathed a little easier.

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