“I was watching the men at the party compete with the number of pickled peppers in a stack. I am guessing the urge is genetic.”

He grinned. “My little sister was always above such things.”

Litha smiled. “It does explain your sex life. A little is good; so much more must be better.”

He paused and got serious. “Like many actives, I have a hunger for connection, and my activation allowed me to indulge in it. It comforted me.”

She looked at the sincerity in his expression. “You are lucky to have found comfort.”

He jolted, and his eyes widened. “And you did not.”

She worked on her lasagna without another word.

She finished and said, “Did you want me to clear up or, okay, all leftovers are yours. I am going to exercise a bit, and then, I will make dessert.”

He nodded. “I will finish up and find you.”

She put her dishes in the sink and headed to the barn.

She was panting, sweating, and pressing her ribs when she heard, “How many fouettés was that?”

“Twenty-nine. I can’t break twenty-nine. Never could.”

She looked over at him, and to her surprise, he was grinning and wearing sweats and pointe shoes.

“Wait. You danced?”

“Three years professionally. It was a government espionage situation, but I still had to learn.”

She watched as he went to warm up. “You were considered stealthy?”

“There was an Uraddan ballerina, and we were trying to get her free of her government.”

“Oh, so you threw yourself on your sword, so to speak.”

He grimaced. “My appetites were excessive, and if I had any idea I would be in this situation, I would have been far more selective and careful.”

“Hindsight, huh? Well, if I had known you were in there ten years ago, I would have gotten you out.”

He paused and nodded. “I believe I understand.”

She watched him as he warmed up, and he asked for some upbeat music. She played it, and he began some hopping steps, and then, he began to dance. Jumps, kicks, flips, and some of the dancing the Erradians were known for.

She smiled and sat back, watching with her own eyes someone other than her perform. She had been teased with the idea of going to the ballet with her patron, but he had never made the arrangements.

She was getting a private performance. When he rested, she cheered and clapped.

Sergei’s grin was sheepish. “I am woefully out of practice.” His chest gleamed with sweat.

“Well, no more so than me. You were very good, and I can’t do those kicks that I saw your people engage in.”

“Would you like me to teach you?”

“Can you?”

“Certainly. It is hard on the ass and thighs, though.”

She stood up. “Well then, let’s start slow.”