Page 161 of Dance of Deception

I cry out, my forehead pressing to the mirror, my breath fogging the surface as we move together.

Our rhythm becomes frantic, manic, all hungry need. Carmine’s hands roam: claiming, possessing, gripping my hips tightenough to leave bruises, his lips dragging over my throat, my shoulder, my spine.

He watches me and my reflection, watches every flicker of pleasure and surrender as I give him everything.

I shatter again, my body clenching around him, a scream tearing from my throat. Carmine’s grip is unrelenting, his groan low and raw, his head thrown back as he gives in completely.

The orgasm explodes through me, shaking me to my very core as my walls clamp down around his cock. My knees tremble, straining against the panties still wrapped around them, my gaze locked on our bodies in the mirror as Carmine slams into me.

I feel his muscles tighten, his grip on me squeezing mercilessly as his cock swells. I moan when I feel his hot cum spill into me as he drives me forward, pinning me to the glass with my hair in his fist and his cock buried deep inside me.

“I’ll light the fucking world on fire for you, little dancer,” he groans into my ear as we grind together.

He was right.

Itisbeautiful.We’rebeautiful.

It's a fucked-up, dark, broken and twisted beauty.

…But it’s beauty nonetheless.

34

LYRA

Naomi can't stop fidgeting.

She stands in front of the mirror, smoothing wrinkles that aren't there from her costume, adjusting the beading on the bodice, her fingers moving too quickly.

Milena watches her, arms crossed, smirking. “You keep that up, you’re going to tear the damn thing.”

Naomi exhales sharply. “It just… It has to be perfect.”

The dressing room is buzzing around us with frantic pre-performance energy.

It’s not opening night. We’re a long ways from that. But it's still a performance—the first preview ofSwan Lake, for a small invited audience comprised of VIPs, Zakharova backers, and other “friends of the company”.

“Youareperfect,” I tell her, stepping beside her. “You’re ready.”

Naomi shakes her head, her hands twitching at her sides. “I don't know. This is big.” Her voice lowers. “These are people who decide whether or not we have a future in this company.”

Milena rolls her eyes. “Okay, first of all, no they don’t. Secondly, you were cast in the role for a reason. You’re going to kill it.”

Naomi isalwaysconvinced she’s a fraud, that she’ll screw up. I’ve never met her father, but from what I gather, Congressman Kim is probably ahugepart of that inferiority complex, even though Naomi is incredible.

“Yeah, well…” She looks down, fidgeting with her hands. “It might be my rolefor now…”

It’s worth mentioning that Naomi’s self-confidence has only taken another hit since Madame Kuzmina announced Dove as her understudy. Dove who is, no joke,reallyfucking good.

No better than Naomi, but try telling her that.

“Guys, I don’t…” Her face twists in the mirror. “This is a lot. I mean, the backers?—”

“You’re very talented.”

The three of us turn to see Dove standing behind us. She’s dressed and ready to go, as she’ll be dancing in thecorps de ballettonight, and her usual goth- Barbie aesthetic somehow looks even more intimidating in full stage makeup. Her pinkish-silver hair is skinned back in a tight bun, and her posture is calm, collected—like nerves are beneath her.

Naomi blinks, clearly taken aback. “I—thank you,” she says.

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