Page 35 of In Shadows We Dance

"Stay there." I step closer, closing the distance until her heat seeps into me. My hands move over her waist, adjusting her position slightly. Her body trembles under my touch—a small rebellion I relish.

"Now hold it."

The pose is exquisite—one leg extended behind her, arms curved like she’s cradling something unseen. But when I check the photograph, it’s lifeless. It doesn’t capture how her pulse leaps under my fingers, how her breath hitches when my hands linger too long.

"Again." I step back, though it feels like a loss. "From the beginning."

Her eyes meet mine, and for the briefest moment, there’s defiance—a spark that cuts through the haze of fear. It’s fleeting, but it ignites something dark in me. I’ll extinguish it soon enough. But not yet.

The music swells again, and she moves, her body surrendering to the rhythm. Every leap, every turn, every breath peels away her defenses. She’s unraveling, her resistance crumbling under the weight of my attention.

The lighting in the room is wrong. It doesn’t worship her properly. The shadows are too harsh, the highlights too flat. I need better equipment. Something that can capture the flush on her cheeks when she catches my gaze in the mirror, the way her movements stutter when I get too close.

She’s tiring now. The tremor in her limbs has grown more pronounced, her breathing uneven. The cracks in her composure widen, and I glimpse what’s hidden beneath—the untamed chaos waiting to be unleashed.

My hand clenches as she executes another jump. I could touch her now, could wrap my hand around her throat and feel how her pulse races. Could press against her back and feel every movement as she dances. The need burns through my veins, but not yet. First, I need to capture this perfectly. Own every moment of her dance, imprint it on my mind so deeply that even her memory will be mine.

"Enough."

I cut off the music, and she stills, her chest heaving as she tries to mask the way her body shakes. But she can’t hide from me. I see it all. The way fear dances with something darker, something she won’t let herself name.

I scroll through the photographs, my jaw tightening. They’re a mockery of what just happened.

Oh, they show the steps, the positions. But they miss the fire, the way her movements sing of resistance and submission tangled together. They miss the way she resists me even as her body responds.

"You can go."

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief. A bead of sweat trails down her neck, and my fingers twitch with the need tofollow its path.

"What?"

“You heard me." My voice is casual, while anticipation coils tight in my chest. "You’ve given me what I wanted. For now."

She doesn’t move. Smart girl. She knows a trap when she sees one.

"The front door is that way." I gesture vaguely, my lips curving into a smile that I know will set her on edge. "Unless you’d prefer to stay?"

The flash of panic in her eyes is beautiful. It gets her moving. She backs away, her gaze darting to the door like she’s expecting it to vanish before she can reach it. When she finally turns and bolts, I don’t stop her.

The door closes with a soft click, and I pull out my phone.

Me: Follow her. Don't let her see you. Make sure she heads toward the woods.

Monty's reply comes straight away.

Monty: On it.

I scroll through the photographs again, frustration simmering beneath my skin. They’re wrong. These lifeless images can’t capture the way her fear hones her movements, how her fight bleeds into surrender with every step.

But it doesn’t matter. The next part of the game won’t need a camera.

The property’s cameras will track her as she stumbles through the darkness, her fear growing with every misstep. The woods are vast, designed to swallow anyone who doesn’t know their paths.

And I’ll be there, waiting. Watching. Drinking in her desperation until it transforms into something sweeter.

I give her five minutes. Just enough time to let hope take root.To let her think she might actually escape.

The dance was only the beginning. A prelude to the real performance.

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