Page 5 of Stealing Samantha

Yanish grabbed his forearm and urged him away from the entrance. Jaess hoped he wouldn’t let go. It would be easy for him to be swallowed up in the mass of writhing Xithilene that surged around them. He could smell the sharp tang of excitement in the air, and the musk of countless other v’iths clogged his senses as foreign wings pressed and brushed his arms, face, and sides. He needed to breathe clean air again, yet there was none to be found here. Jaess closed his eyes and let his companion pull him forward as he tried to shut out all the rest of it. Yanish’s fingers around his wrist, the solid floor beneath his feet—that was all that he could allow himself to feel if he wanted to endure this place.

Finally, they came to a stop.

“Wonderful, isn’t it? No one can be lonely in a Lisseethi dance hall.” Jaess opened his eyes and watched the other man’s animated features. Yanish grinned as he glanced down at his comm device. “The others are already here. They’ll be joining us here shortly. Shall I get you a glass of mezal’el, brother?” His grin turned sharper. “You look as if you need it.”

“Thank you, Yanish, but no.” Jaess knew he’d disappointed the other man, but his body was already overheated from the dense crowd of people in the building. He didn’t need the alcohol to intensify the sensation.

Yanish walked to the bar in front of them and requested a drink. Jaess watched as another v’ith approached and clapped his forearm to Yanish’s—one of the friends, he assumed. Jaess turned back to take in the spectacle of the dance hall. Now that he was no longer attempting to push his way through, he could take his time observing the place. In the center of the large, open chamber was a circular stage. Small, cylindrical platforms had been placed above it at varying heights, leading up to the domed ceiling.

He wasn’t the only one watching the stage. A man was using the platforms to propel himself upwards, his feet following the relentless drumbeat that vibrated through the frame and floor of the building. Others were clicking their nails together and letting their rattles loose in appreciation. Several of the women in the crowd hissed their pleasure as the dancer extended his wings in display.

Jaess experienced a fresh surge of heat beneath his scales as his own feathers began to lift, the urge to respond to another male’s challenge difficult to repress. He didn’t know if it would be possible for him to dance properly in such a place where desire flowed like the priests’ sweet wine, where those hidden parts of him might be laid bare in an instant—in the wrong flick of a feather, the careless sweep of a wing.

A heavy hand clapped down over his shoulder. “Jaess of Vastiss! Meet your landsmen.” He turned back, shifting on the balls of his feet to pivot towards the small group of Yanish’s friends.

“So this is the mysterious houseguest from the lost Vastiss clan you’ve been telling us about,” said the man standing to Yanish’s left. He tilted his head and fixed his gaze on Jaess. “You don’t look much like a hunter.”

The insult took root, and now more than the strange heat of the place burned beneath his scales. “You don’t think so?” Jaess asked, holding his arm relaxed and hand unclenched, although his fingers itched for the hilt of one of his blades.

“You’re too pretty.” The other man flashed him a brittle grin. “Maybe I should travel to your village. If the women there share your bright feathers, it might be worth enduring the lack of civilization. Yanish says you’ve never visited Verkissat before. Do you plan to stay in our lovely capital?”

“I’m waiting for my cousin—a captain in the Fleet. We have business,” he replied curtly. He didn’t relish an evening of similar conversation. Perhaps he would dance, after all, if only to avoid more of the same.

“Ignore Ma’keth. The rest of us do,” said one of the others. He had rich green scales, far lighter than his own, and he gave Jaess a welcoming smile. “Do you plan to dance tonight?” he asked, inclining his head towards the stage.

“I’m not certain I wish to perform.”

“I prefer to stay with the crowd myself,” the friendly man said, glancing at the swaying, writhing bodies filling the floor.

“Yanish, what about you? Will you dance upon the stage?” Jaess asked, turning back to his host. He watched him swallow, the thinner scales at the hollow of his neck undulating, catching the dim lights as they moved.

“I’ll join you if you do.”

Jaess inclined his head towards Yanish. “Must we wait then?” He glanced back at the stage, at the v’ith preening, displaying his feathers for the nameless women who hissed and called to him from below. “How is it done here?”

“We just go. The people will let us know their pleasure once they see us move.” Yanish grinned, although Jaess thought he could still see a hint of trepidation in the other man’s keen eyes. “I’m ready if you are, landsman.”

“I am ready,” Jaess replied.

He began to walk towards the stage, weaving through the crowd with Yanish at his arm. It didn’t feel as if he were about to dance. It was more akin to the start of a tracking mission with one of his cousins back home—this sense of sparking anticipation mixed with sharp edged fear.Only a dance.He needn’t display himself in the manner of the previous v’ith. There was no one here he wished to impress, yet Jaess was Vastiss. He would show these smooth-feathered males of the capital what it meant to be a true son of the forest.

This time the press of the crowd seemed weaker, the throb of the drums distant. When they approached the stage, he took the first step and then leapt past the rest, extending his wings to give him extra lift. His feet hit the stage with a satisfying thump. The man who’d displayed for the others froze, his gaze set on Jaess. He felt his mouth turn up in a faint smile before he caught himself and forced his expression blank again. It was beneath him to acknowledge the other man’s reaction.

He could hear Yanish’s quieter steps behind him, and Jaess moved forward, turning towards the lowest platform. It required barely a jump for him to land upon it and begin to move. The snap of rapidly opened wings, the slight flutter of vibrating feathers, the heaviness of the night’s darkness—he breathed in those sensations and ignored all other sounds, placing himself back in the embrace of the forest. He would dance for the Lisseethi of Verkissat, but he would only do so as himself.

His feet moved quickly as he imagined running the length of a branch. He shifted his hips and moved his wings in tandem, keeping himself perfectly balanced before he spun with a small jump, just barely tasting the air, the faintest hint of the freedom of the fall. A brief glance to his left allowed him to fix the position of the next platform in his mind. A few steps later he extended his legs, pushing off with a great flap of his wings as he thrust his body towards the next artificial landing post.

He kept his mind closed to the music and the crowd, working his way upwards, never letting his gaze fall upon the people below. The rapid flash of Yanish’s dark feathers occasionally caught his eye, but the other man was dancing several platforms down, and there was no danger of sharing the same airspace.

Jaess landed atop the highest platform. He let his head tip back and the matte dark of the ceiling was close enough he knew he could touch it if he tried. No sky, no shadowed leaves, no creatures of home here. He took one step forward and let the moment stretch. All of his weight was balanced on the ball of one foot, and he knew there was no stopping himself now, but he savored it—that instant of transformation, where he was neither an earthbound creature or in flight. He let the anticipation build until it released with a snap.

He dove downwards, his wings tucked close against his back until he passed the first platform below him. Then he forced them open, still falling head first, but he felt his outer feathers catch the air, and he knew he was in no danger. Only at the last moment did he tilt his body to glide out in a lazy circle, drifting around the outside of the stage. Jaess almost stumbled as his legs came back under him, as his feet hit with a bit too much momentum. The unforgiving bones of Verkissat were tripping him up again, it seemed. He still couldn’t accustom himself to the hard surfaces, the dead places that made up the city.

Jaess looked up, flicking his crown feathers at his clumsy landing, and then he froze, rather like the v’ith who’d preceded him. No one waited to challenge him, to take his place, but every face was turned to him, and every pair of eyes fixed him in place until he felt his feathers begin to vibrate at the perceived threat.

The music played on. He heard it again now that he no longer attempted to block it out. Soft drums and the quick, bright notes of a flute tempted him to move his feet, but otherwise, the dance hall was silent. Jaess’ feathers began to clamp down close against his body, and he glanced back anxiously, searching for Yanish. A brief shudder ran through the other man’s body before his dazed expression cleared and he hurried to Jaess’ side.

“Come, friend. Perhaps you’ve changed your mind about that glass of mezal’el?” Yanish asked softly as he urged him off the stage.

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