Page 38 of Magic in My Bones

Ren cocked his head to the side. “A sabbatical?”

I chuckled, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. “A year off to pursue my own research, to delve into the mysteries of life and death without the constant demands of the classroom.” I paused, my gaze softening as it met Ren's. “And perhaps... to explore other matters of the heart without the specter of impropriety looming over us.”

Ren's breath hitched, his lips parting slightly as he stared up at me. But before he could respond, the lively tune that had been playing came to an end, and the ghostly orchestra struck up a hauntingly beautiful waltz.

Around us, the other dancers began to pair off, moving in graceful circles to the entrancing rhythm. I looked at Ren, made another bow, and once again extended my hand. “What do you say to another dance, Mr. Wickens?”

Ren hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “I... I'm afraid I don't really know how to waltz,” he admitted, afaint blush coloring his cheeks. “Formal dancing wasn’t exactly a required course back in my Pennsylvania high school.”

I stepped closer, gently placing one hand on the small of Ren's back. The other hand clasped his, our fingers intertwining. “Do you trust me, Ren?”

Ren's breath hitched, his pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips. Every point of contact between us felt electric from the warmth of his hand in mine, to the subtle pressure at his waist where I guided him. I found myself cataloging each small detail: the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks when he glanced down, how his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on my shoulder when I adjusted my grip, the slight catch in his breath when our eyes met.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I trust you, Dorian.”

“Then all you need to do is follow my lead.” With that, I began to move, guiding Ren in a slow, swirling dance. We glided across the floor, our bodies moving in harmony.

“Here,” I murmured, adjusting my grip on his waist. “Let me show you something.” I let a tendril of my magic flow through my palm where it rested against his back, seeking his power like a key finding its lock. “Do you feel that?”

Ren's breath caught, his eyes widening behind his mask. “Oh,” he whispered. Where our magic met, warmth bloomed between us, spreading like honey through our veins. “That's... that's incredible.”

“Back home in Ireland, Gran used to say the waltz was more than just a dance. It was how magical couples would test their compatibility,” I explained softly, my accent thickening with the memory. “She'd tell stories of how the Fair Folk would hold their own midnight balls, dancing until their magic sang together in perfect harmony.” My thumb traced small circles against his waist, each movement sending ripples of power between us. “They would use it to test their magical compatibility. Like this.”I guided more of my magic to twine with his, creating patterns of silver light that spiraled around us like cosmic dust.

Ren shivered, his magic rising eagerly to meet mine. The connection between us deepened, intimate in a way that made my heart race. This wasn't just magical resonance. This was something far more profound, like finding a harmony I'd been searching for my entire life.

Ren fit against me as though he belonged there, the warmth of his hand a steady anchor, his breath catching softly as he settled into my touch. In this moment, it felt as though the world around us faded, leaving only the quiet pull of our bodies, the silent language of a shared heartbeat.

As we traced delicate spirals upon the darkened floor, Ren’s initial shyness slipped away, replaced by a quiet, fierce grace that made him glow in the dim light. He moved with me, our steps synchronized perfectly.

In the shifting glow of the masquerade lights, Ren was nothing short of striking. The lines of his emerald coat skimmed his shoulders and framed his body with a perfect elegance, accentuating every graceful angle and lean strength. His jaw was set, determined, his eyes intense and serious behind his mask. Yet there was a hint of vulnerability in them, a flicker of softness that only made him more compelling.

As I held him close, I felt the steady strength in his shoulders, the warmth of his hand in mine, and something in me stirred, both fierce and tender. His presence commanded my full attention, filling the space between us with a quiet intensity that eclipsed the music or the distant dancers around us.

I realized I was lingering, unable to look away from the sharp edge of his cheekbone, the line of his collarbone under the rich fabric. The weight of his gaze on me was grounding and electric, making my pulse race. Each turn brought us closer together until I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat againstmy chest. His magic reached for mine instinctively, creating delicate patterns of frost on the marble floor beneath our feet. The enchanted candles overhead shifted color in response to our dance, their flames turning a deep, rich purple that cast mysterious shadows across Ren's masked face.

I noticed how his breath caught whenever I adjusted my grip on his waist, how his fingers tightened ever so slightly in mine when I guided him through a particularly complex turn. Every point of contact between us felt charged with possibility, with unspoken promises.

With a quiet breath, I let my thumb brush lightly over the back of his hand, feeling the strength there, the warmth that grounded me even as my heart thudded louder. Here was Ren, not merely captivating but unmistakably, strikingly handsome, someone who could light up the darkest room, and for this moment, he was mine alone to look at, to hold close.

“Ren,” I breathed, my voice rough with emotion. “You are... exquisite.” The words felt inadequate compared to the swell of feeling in my chest. Here was the young man who had brought such warmth to my carefully ordered world, who treated lost spirits with the same gentle kindness he showed to Bones, who made even the darkest corners of necromancy feel like home.

His cheeks flushed a little more pink. “I’m just trying not to trip over my own two feet here.”

I chuckled softly, gently squeezing Ren's hand in reassurance. “Nonsense, my dear. You're doing splendidly. It's as if you were born to waltz.”

Ren ducked his head, a pleased smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose I have a good teacher to thank for that.”

We continued to dance, lost in the music and the magic of the moment. But all too soon, the ghostly melody began to fade, signaling the end of the song. Around us, couples began to drift apart, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

Ren stiffened in my arms, his eyes darting around the room. I followed his gaze, noticing the curious stares and hushed whispers directed our way. It seemed our dance had not gone unnoticed by the other revelers.

Leaning close, I murmured in his ear, “Perhaps we should get some air? Might I suggest a walk through the herbalist gardens?”

Ren nodded, relief flooding his features. “Please. I think I could use a bit of fresh air.”

I guided him off the dance floor, our fingers still intertwined. We made our way through the crowd, past the curious glances and murmured speculations, until we reached the arched doorway that led to the herbalist gardens.

The moment we stepped outside, it was as if we had crossed the threshold into another world. The gardens were a breathtaking tapestry of colors and scents, the air heavy with the fragrance of a thousand magical herbs. Silver moonlight spilled across the winding paths, casting an ethereal glow upon the foliage.

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