Page 41 of In Shadows We Dance

The house looms before me, dark and imposing against the night sky. Somehow, I’ve run in a circle. Or he’s guided me here, a predator steering his prey.

"There you are." His voice is just behind me, soft and certain.

I spin to flee, but his arms wrap around me, pulling me back against his chest. One hand presses firmly over my stomach, the other curls around my throat—not squeezing, just holding.Claiming.

"Your pulse is racing. But we both know it's not just fear anymore, don't we?"

My skin is on fire, every nerve ending alive, hypersensitive. His grip tightens, his palm sliding up from my stomach to my breast.

"Nowhere left to run, Ileana."

CHAPTER 20

Claiming The Dance

WREN

Her pulse thundersbeneath my touch, an erratic rhythm that betrays everything she’s trying to hide. Chasing her through the trees has left her breathless, flushed, strands of hair wild. Something primal awakens in me at the sight. She’s stopped struggling now, her body torn between shrinking away and pressing against me. The contradiction captivates me.

One of my hands rests over her breast, not just cupping but holding, feeling the frantic rise and fall as her lungs struggle for air. My other hand remains at her throat, firm but not crushing, a reminder of how completely I have her in my grasp.

She’s shaking, caught between terror and something she doesn’t want to admit even to herself.

And I fucking love it. She’s mine in this moment. Every breath. Every shiver. Every gasp belongs to me.

“Do you feel that?” My hand drops from her breast, skimming over the edge of her shirt, teasing the fabric as it rides up slightly. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away.

“Do you want me to stop? Tell me, and I will.”

Silence.

She’s tense, holding herself rigid, but she doesn’t speak. Doesn’t resist.

“That’s what I thought.” My hand pushes beneath her shirt. Her skin is warm, smooth. I trace small circles along her stomach, feeling the way her muscles contract as my fingers glide higher.

“Wren …” My name is a choked whisper.

“Shhh. Let me show you what it feels like to be wanted.”

My fingers move higher, until my fingertips touch the underside of her breast. Her entire body jerks, a soft gasp escaping her lips,but she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t tell me to stop.

“That’s it.” I press a kiss to the curve of her throat. “Let yourself feel it. Stop fighting me.”

I catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. Monty and Nico come into view, their gazes fixed on us.

“They’re watching you.” My hand moves again, until I can cup her breast through her bra. “They’re seeing what I see. How beautiful you are. How perfect you look when you stop pretending.”

Her head shakes slightly, a weak denial when she arches into my hand. My thumb strokes over her nipple, and it hardens under my touch.

“So sensitive.” I circle her nipple, teasing it until her breathing quickens. “Have you ever been touched like this before, Ballerina? Has anyone ever made you feel this way?”

Her silence tells me everything. Releasing her throat, I reach around and press my palm over her pussy.

“You like this, don’t you? Being touched. Being seen. Being claimed.”

Her breath hitches again, and I press another kiss to her neck. My tongue flicks out, tasting her skin, and I hum softly.

“You taste good. But I bet you taste better here.” My fingers flex against her pussy through her yoga pants.

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