Page 3 of Twilight Echoes
He knew Avery would be the love of his life, but he needed her father to save him and his pack from whatever curse or spell had caused his father’s sudden death and what would undoubtedly be his demise.
Holding his breath, he blinked a few times. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. His family needed him to find the source of the illness that threatened to wipe out every male in his pack.
“Stop the music,” he said as he stood and made his way down the aisle, gently placing the image back where it belonged. The cast of dancers came to a slow halt. They exchanged confused glances as they stepped to the side.
All except Avery.
She stood at the center with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. A piece of auburn hair fell from her bun. She pursed her lips and blew it to the side. “I’m sorry. May I ask, who are you?” She held a hand over her squinted eyes from the lights shining down in her face.
Talk about a loaded question. “Darrell, the new choreographer,” he said, contemplating his next move. The call had come three weeks ago, asking him to take over, and he’d jumped at the chance. He loved being behind the scenes. Not that he didn’t love dancing, because he lived for it. Only he preferred to see his visions come to life. There was no biggerrush than to sit back and watch the movement of bodies across the stage while music echoed off the walls, telling a story that broke your heart into a million pieces.
However, he’d taken the job because Avery was the principal ballerina.
The time had come to meet his mate.
And stop the curse, if that was even possible.
“Darrell? As in Darrell Hughes?” one of the dancers asked with such excitement it made his cheeks flush. In all the years he’d been on the stage, he never understood why anyone made a fuss of him.
Whispers erupted from everyone in the background.
He ignored them. “Where’s Olivia?”
Avery opened her mouth, but the sound of hard pointe shoes flattened on the stage filled the air.
“I’m right here,” a young girl said, skidding to a stop next to Avery. “Oh my God. It’s such an honor to meet you.” She waved her hand in front of her face and batted her long lashes.
“I want you to try part of this number from the double cabriole to the relevé in fifth,” Darrell said.
“Excuse me?” Avery shifted her weight to her stronger leg. “I don’t mean to question you right out of the gate. I really don’t. But we’ve only got five more days before we perform live. I need the practice.”
“So does your understudy. Just in case.” He arched a brow. “And I’d like a minute to talk with you.”
“May I ask about what?” She shot her hip to the side, planting her hand firmly on her tiny waist.
Always so polite in front of the other dancers. God, how he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
There was a time and place for everything, and this was not that time or place. Besides, mating could happen anywhere. All she needed to do was accept him and choose to stand with himand they would forever be part of each other. “Places everyone,” he said, eyeing her bandaged knee. The right sported a thin layer of tape, as did her ankle. She wouldn’t be able to wear those during performances. “Join me in the audience.”
“All right.” Avery ducked backstage for a second and returned with a towel. As she took the steps into the audience, she dabbed her forehead.
Olivia, an eighteen-year-old with a lot of talent but in desperate need of a bit of maturity and a little more dedication, would soon be taking over as principal dancer. A fact that Avery had to know was inevitable.
Better to leave gracefully versus being pushed out.
He sat ten rows back and watched as Olivia began the piece, impressed by her excitement.
But she was no Avery.
“We were not told we’d have a new choreographer, much less the great Darrell Hughes.” Avery settled herself in a seat two over from his, her towel draped over the back of her neck. “What happened to Brandon?”
Darrell had asked the ballet company's board not to tell the dancers about his arrival, which meant no one knew Brandon had cancer—not yet anyway, but that wasn’t his story to tell. “He’s coming in at the end of rehearsal today to talk to everyone.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Avery said, glancing between the young ballerina on the stage and him. “And neither does you pulling me from rehearsal. I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of turn, but Olivia does one run-through a day, not random stuff in the middle.”
“Things will be done differently with me in charge, and I hope, being principal, you’ll help with the transition.”
“Is that why you brought me down here?”
