Page 91 of Shâhzâdeh

“That was sweet but I still have the issue that is unresolved. I don’t know how to dance.” I put my hands on my hips because I refused to let him avoid the issue at hand.

“Classical, country—”

“Black.” My answer was probably ridiculous but it was exactly what I meant.

He crossed his arms and looked at me like he needed more. “Okay, well Black people invented just about every genre of music zhat is popular wizin the United States so I need you to be specific.”

I waved my fingers because I was getting flustered. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Wallah,ziba, Black is not a type of dance. It is a race like American is your nationality.”

“Funny enough, they classify Iranian people as white. Even Egyptians and Moroccans.” It was a random, useless piece of information that I’d picked up when I started to review information about Iranian culture.

“Zhat is because zhey are of the belief zhat we have been conquered enough to assimilate. I would gladly disabuse zhem of zhat notion.” He smirked and I couldn’t help but think that he might just blow something up to prove his point.

“ProudBlarasian, right?”

“Yes. But we were discussing dancing. Do you want to slow dance? It is all about feel and rhythm and movement. Nothing more or less.”

“I feel clammy at the thought of dancing in front of people and again, no rhythm. I need more than that. Can you tell me how to do it?”

He shook his head and I was wondering where the unshaken desire to fix my problems was at now. “Zhere is no way to tell you how to move, it is a feeling.”

“That’s not helping.” It wasn’t his fault that I couldn’t do it but I couldn’t help but to get frustrated. I didn’t want to be the girl embarrassing myself or him by getting out there loud and wrong. I’d seen plenty of white girls in Black spaces thinking they knew something and looked terrible. I wasn’t white, but I damn sure didn’t want to be embarrassed like them.

“So you need a demonstration then?”

I leaned back cause he was sounding unsure of his abilities. “I should’ve asked, how can you dance?”

“Maman is from Nawlins and my father from zhe Middle East. I would have two sets of ancestors ready to snatch back zheir DNA if I lacked rhythm. Zhe lil’ two step you just saw was nozing.”

I let my head fall back because it was clear I was doomed. “I guess my ancestors are waiting with the switches, then.”

He pulled on my hand forcing me to face him and when I did he was giving me a reassuring smile. “We will get zhe ozer people out of your head and all will be well. Now, what type of dancing do you want to learn first?”

“How to twerk.”

He laughed but meanwhile I was dead ass serious. The body control it took to twerk meant I could probably do any other dance, ever. “Vanya zhat is like giving a new driver zhe keys to a McLaren. You must rollover before you can crawl. You say you have no rhythm, let’s see vhat you mean.”

He pulled up his phone, which I knew was connected to the audio system within the house and switched the song.

“If you just wanted a reason to hold me close, just say that.” I was joking but the way his eyes darkened as he turned back to me made me want to lean into whatever he was thinking.

“Vould I need a reason, Vanya? Besides two people vho have a mutual desire to be in the other’s embrace?” My goodness his voice was lust personified. An audible elixir that was sure to have me enthralled.

“No.”

He smiled wickedly, but even that was seductive to me. If Lucifer was even a tenth as beautiful as Xerxes Cannon, I could understand why so many were led astray.

“Close your eyes and feel zhe music. Do not zhink too much about it. Zhat is where so many people find zhey make zheir mistakes. They don’t take the time to let the music penetrate their souls so quick are they to move.”

I started to sway to the song, feeling the melody and the bass. I wasn’t worried about how I looked, I just did what he asked me to.

With my eyes closed, I reached out my hand welcoming him into my personal space. Less than a second later, his slightly rough hand was cradling mine as his other slid around my waist. The silk fabric of my dress seemed even more sensual with the heat of his hand warming the cloth against my skin. I stumbled, my body shuddering as I felt the warmth of him cover the front of me.

“You’re zhinking too hard. You are supposed to just be feeling.” The admonishment was spoken softly in my ear but even that felt like seduction. His words caused me to shiver and he pressed me closer to him as though he knew that’s exactly what I needed.

“I am.” I really was feeling and that was what was so wrong. I hadn’t kidded myself that we were going to stay platonic or that something wasn’t going to happen between us. I just didn’t know what that something was going to look like. Or how I would handle it when it happened. The timeline had moved up much quicker, probably because we were sharing a space together. Working together. Planning a wedding and a life together.

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