Page 62 of Reaper's Ruin
“Rhyker?” she started.
“No,” I said immediately, cutting off the words I could sense were coming.
Her lips parted in mock offense. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I do.” I shifted, glancing toward the dancers. “And the answer is still no.”
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Come on. If we don’t dance, people will start wondering why we’re here. Blending in, remember?”
I resisted the urge to scowl. “I am blending in. I’m standing in the corner, watching everyone like I hate being here. That’s called ‘nobility.’”
She turned those big eyes on me, the mask framing them like some kind of magical trap. “Please? Everyone’s dancing. You keep saying we need to blend in. Not only will we be blending in, but no one can talk to us so I don’t blow our cover,andI can get a good look around the room while we’re spinning around. I mean, it makes sense to dance...” She trailed off, looking at me expectantly, lashes fluttering.
An internal groan rumbled inside me as I sighed.
How could I say no when she was staring at me that way?
I ground my teeth. One dance. That was all she wanted.
One chance to set myself on fire.
“Fine,” I growled, downing the last of my wine with one swig. I would need it to endure the torture awaiting me holding her close, feeling her body pressed against mine.
Her entire face lit up with a dazzling smile like I’d just handed her a crown. “Really? Oh my God. I’ve always dreamed of dancing at a ball.” A little squeal escaped her lips as she hopped to my side. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Then as suddenly as her face had lit up so brightly she’d illuminated the whole room, it dropped. “Wait. Shit. I don’t know the steps. I’ll look like a bumbling idiot out there. What was I thinking?”
I twisted my lips realizing this could be my out. I wouldn’t have to torture myself holding her in my arms as I spun her around the dance floor. But seeing the disappointment flooding those eyes always so bright with wonder and life made my heart clench.
Despite every rational warning bell clanging in my skull, with a heavy sigh, I extended my hand. “I know the moves. Just follow my lead.”
That light flooded back into those glassy blue eyes as her face broke into a wide grin. “Really? We’re dancing?”
I groaned. “Really. Come on.”
I led her to the edge of the dance floor, placing one hand at the small of her back, taking her other hand in mine. The moment we touched, a current seemed to pass between us—something electric and undeniable.
She slipped one hand onto my shoulder and the other entwined with mine. Her body was close. Too close. I could feel the heat of her through the silk and satin of that gods-damned dress. Midnight blue. Silver embroidery. Like she’d been sewn intostormlight itself. I cursed myself for choosing it now that I felt its full power over me.
“So, Death really knows how to dance?” she teased.
“I was alive during the rise of the Moon Courts,” I said dryly. “I’ve danced more waltzes than you’ve had breakfasts.”
Her smile widened. “Well then, lead on, Mr. Darcy.”
I exhaled slowly and stepped into the movement, guiding her into a slow rotation just as the music shifted to a haunting, sweeping melody. She moved gracefully with me, her eyes locked on mine, full of amusement and... something else.
Something dangerous.
As the music swelled, I guided her into the pattern, keeping the movements simple. She was a quick learner, adjusting to my direction with surprising grace. Within moments, we were moving as one across the floor, her body responding to mine as if we’d danced together a thousand times before.
The proximity was maddening. Her hand in mine, her waist beneath my palm, her body occasionally brushing against me as we turned. The scent of her filled my senses—something warm and sweet that reminded me of summer nights long forgotten.
The dance brought us closer, then apart, then closer again, a rhythm like breathing. With each turn, each movement, the room around us seemed to fade. The other dancers, the watching nobles, the danger of our situation—all of it receded until there was only Soraya, her blue eyes looking up at me through her mask, trust and something else shining in their depths.
The music curled around us like smoke, and we moved together in perfect rhythm. I shouldn’t have enjoyed it. I shouldn’t have noticed the way her breath hitched when my hand slid just a fraction lower on her waist. Or the way her gaze flicked to my mouth when I leaned in slightly to murmur the next step.
But I did.
