Page 58 of Teach Me to Fly

“Hey,” he says, pushing a loose curl behind my ear, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Are you and Angelique up for an impromptu rehearsal session right now, without Volkov breathing down your necks?” Terry asks.

Reign looks at me, lifting a brow in question. I nod, attempting to climb off him so I can go get ready, but heclamps a hand down on my thigh, stopping me from escaping.

“Yeah, give us an hour. We haven’t got out of bed yet.”

There’s a pause on the other line before Terry speaks again. “We?” he asks slowly. “Is Angelique in bed with you?”

I look at Reign, my eyes wide, and wave frantically for him to end the call. He can’t hold back his chuckle as he watches me.

“She is, isn’t she?” Terry asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Goodbye, Terry,” Reign says before hanging up and grinning at my flustered state.

His smile slowly fades as he runs a thumb along my cheek. “We’ll continue this conversation later?”

I nod as his arms wrap around me and hold me close. I can’t say I fully trust Reign again. I mean, I trust him not to physically hurt me, but I think in the back of my mind there will always be a voice warning me he might break my heart if I’m not careful.

But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it’s what I need to keep myself safe.

Chapter 20

Reign

The drive to Imperium takes longer than usual. I keep the speed low, letting the world blur past us because there’s something sacred about being together in the quiet with Angelique, like we’re both trying to memorize this feeling before it slips away again. In a perfect world, that wouldn’t be something we’d have to worry about. But in this world, we’ve both hurt each other enough to create some scars and doubt.

Terry is sitting on the stone steps outside when we pull in, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. He grins when he sees us, flicking the butt to the ground, and gives me a knowing wink before tipping his head to Angelique.

“I want to try one of the duet scenes today,” he says when we reach the steps, standing and dusting off his jeans. “There’s a turn in the middle section that isn’t flowing right, so I’ll need to see it on you two before Volkov rips me a new one tomorrow.”

Angelique lets out a dry laugh as we head toward the doors. “Don’t worry, Terry. If the pas de deux falls apart, I’m pretty sure I’ll be the one he tears into first.”

Over my dead body.

“You’d be surprised,” he mutters, holding the door open with a mock bow. “That man lives to be disappointed.”

The studio is quiet when we step inside, except for the dull hum of the overhead lights and the echo of our footsteps on the polished floor. The curtains are drawn back, exposing the stage. Terry beelines to the soundboard, perching himself on the stool and twisting a cable between his fingers, and Angelique walks ahead of me, her curls bouncing slightly with each step. I trail behind slowly, my eyes never leaving her.

We both climb onto the stage, changing out of our sweats, and begin stretching. My eyes catch on the slope of her back, the soft fabric of her leotard clinging to her like second skin, the way the thin straps dig into her shoulders, the arch of her spine as she folds over her legs, the curve of her hip pressing into the floor. My body reacts before my brain can shame it into obedience, blood rushing low, heat curling deep in my gut.

I glance away, jaw tightening.

Focus, Reign. It’s a rehearsal, not foreplay.

But it doesn't help that she glances up right then, brushing her curls back with a flick of her wrist, and it makes me want to cross the stage, drag her into my arms, and make us both forget why we’re here. Instead, I turn my face toward the stage wings, blow out a slow breath, and adjust myself discreetly.

"You alright?" she asks, unaware of the war she’s started in my head.

“I’m fine,” I lie, and drop into a deep lunge, hoping the stretch will hurt enough to ground me.

Terry doesn’t notice, or if he does, he’s pretending not to. He fiddles with his laptop for a few more minutes beforehe pulls up the rehearsal track for the pas de deux. The first few bars spill through the speakers and Terry claps his hands once.

“Alright, children. Ready?”

I nod. “Let’s do it.”

We move to centre and Angelique steps into position just as the music begins. My hands find her waist, lifting her easily as she extends into an arabesque. We move together like breath and shadow, her body anticipating mine, and mine steadying hers. I circle her slowly, hand outstretched, and she places her palm in mine.

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