Page 8 of Dance of Ruin

“Funny, I thought ballerinas were supposed to be graceful.”

“We can’tfly,” I mumble.

“You know, when we were kids and Bianca first started taking ballet, I used to think that the tutus acted like parachutes.”

This entire scenario feels like a fever dream.

I’ve just watched this mankill someone. Then he saves me from falling, even though I saw what he did, and he knows it. And now we’re talking about…parachute tutus?

Nico’s brows knit. “Although thinking about it now, I’m guessing that was probably something I saw in a cartoon.”

A cold shiver creeps up my spine as I swallow the dryness in my mouth.

“Nico…” I say quietly, fear still rampaging through my veins.

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing?” I whisper.

He doesn’t respond instantly. Instead, he lets his lips curl a little, as if he’s about to smile.

But he doesn’t, and that “almost-a-smile” stays where it is, a slightly off-kilter, somewhat deranged thin line.

And there’snothingsmiley about his eyes.

“We were discussing what you, unfortunately, appear to have seen just now.”

My head shakes automatically. “I didn’t?—”

I gasp sharply, adrenaline spiking through my system as his hand suddenly wraps around my throat.

Andsqueezes.

“I thought we’d decidednotto lieto each other, Naomi.”

He sighs, rolling his neck, making the tattoo ink there flex in the neon light of the city.

“So, we can agree that you saw what you saw.”

I tense.

“Acknowledging that I could have let you go, or merely not done a thing tostop youfrom falling three and a half minutes ago, and yet here you stand—you’re welcome, by the way…”

I frown, a jangling symphony of emotions and firing synapses clashing inside me.

“I—yeah, thank you,” I mutter.

“You canthank meby looking me in the eye and telling me what you saw.”

My body stiffens, my pulse skipping a beat as my throat tightens even without his hand squeezing any tighter.

“Naomi.”

“I…”

“Say it,” he murmurs darkly, that weirdly sensual tone drifting over my skin like a dark caress.

“I saw you…”

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