Page 12 of Stealing Samantha

She clapped, even though she was the only one watching. A few of the dancers smiled in her direction as the music resumed and they continued with the next number. The discomfort she’d felt earlier dissipated. She’d been worried, but this was just one more performance, albeit a unique and enthralling one. Watching Xithilene on a human stage was an entirely different experience than seeing them dance in one of their own villages. Nothing about being here made her think of the stifling dark of the Lisseethi forest. Sam smiled softly and finally leaned back, determined to enjoy herself.

* * *

Jaess was not a good dancer.

Closing in on two hours of rehearsal, there was just no way around it—Jaess of Vastiss was the worst dancer of the bunch. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected. If she hadn’t spoken with him easily herself the night before, she might have wondered if he had some type of hearing impairment. The other dancers stomped and twisted to the rhythms of the ever present drums, but Jaess was always a beat behind or ahead. He almost looked clumsy, and his bright wings were like a beacon that emphasized even further his failure to match his fellow dancers.

Sam was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She could tell that the rehearsal was nearing its end, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to say to him. She didn’t believe that Jaess would be content to let her go without a single word, and she wasn’t rude enough to try. At this point, she would’ve preferred another hour of rehearsal to facing him at the end of it.

Several dancers cleared the stage as the music shifted to a slower tempo. Jaess was standing on the lowest platform, still holding the ending pose from the last dance. The director, the woman who’d introduced herself as Lithi, spun towards centerstage. Then he drifted down from his perch and landed only a few steps away from Lithi. One outstretched hand met another, and then Jaess was pulling the woman into his arms, the graceful line of her spine curving into a dramatic arch as she surrendered to his embrace, the trailing tips of her much smaller wings almost touching the floor as she leaned back.

It didn’t take her much longer to realize that this must be the reason Jaess had been brought into the troupe; the raw passion, the electric buzz in the air so strong she felt the hairs on her own arms raise—the reasons humans would pay hand over fist to watch their alien brethren, even as much of Earth still muttered their species’ name with foreboding and suspicion.

Jaess and his partner moved effortlessly together, the tension between them pulling taut and then unspooling, again and again as each spin and leap grew faster, wilder than the last. She could taste the beat of her heart thudding against her tongue. The air caught in her lungs as her hands curled so tightly into the loose fabric of her dress pants that it was a wonder the fabric didn’t rip under the strain. Swallowing was an impossibility. The hot lick of fire that burned its way from her chest downwards was as unwelcome as the rest of her feelings. The slide of scales over skin, the stinging slap of a feather’s edge cutting against her arm as she turned away from another monstrous man—desire danced with memory in the most maddening way, turning her inside out and back again.

Jaess wasn’t U’vaess. She knew that, but it didn’t stop the way shame followed the heat that flared beneath her skin. That was over and done, a closed door that she’d promised herself would stay shut.Stupid, stupid, stupid.

They were dancing on one of the platforms now, the small surface below their feet too little for two grown adults, alien or otherwise. He held her too closely, not a breath of space between them.

It took her too long to realize the sudden ringing in her ears was silence. The duet was over, and Jaess jumped down, slowing their descent with his broad wings as Lithi clung to him. Then she left the stage and the lights darkened until Jaess stood alone, his body caught in a single spotlight.

A low drumbeat rumbled its way across the theater. Sam could feel the heavy thrum vibrate through the soles of her shoes until it tingled up to the tips of her fingers. Like before, Jaess moved independently of the rhythm, but he no longer appeared clumsy—simply detached, as if the music were occurring somewhere else, as if it were only a distraction from what really mattered.Him.

During the last dance, he’d moved like Lithi’s lover. Now his body was a vessel, one that spun and flew as its secrets spilled out like blood upon the stage. She knew what it felt like to be that vulnerable before an audience, and she’d tasted the power in it, too. She didn’t know what Jaess was imagining when he flung his body carelessly from one platform to the next, higher and higher, as if gravity were only a small inconvenience, as if he’d never known the flavor of fear, but she knew he was a world away. She wanted to see it, too—whatever he saw at that moment as he dove headfirst towards the stage.

Sam bit the inside of her cheek, the pain barely registering as she waited for him to break his fall. Her heart resumed beating the moment he finally veered sideways, his wings extending out with a shuddering snapping sound that cut through the haze of all that beauty and grace. It was as if a painter had slashed a streak of bright red across a masterpiece, shocking and infuriating at the same time. She’d wanted to stay in that place where she could just sit back and observe, but now she was off-balance and unnerved, even if she couldn’t explain why to herself, much less anyone else.

He didn’t bow. The drumming stopped and the theater grew quiet. Someone raised the house lights and the rest of the troupe trickled back onstage from the wings. Sam heard voices behind her and to her right. When she turned her head, she saw she was no longer alone as she’d thought—around a dozen or so men and women had joined her, many of them with recording devices in hand. She swallowed. Press stills and vids. Of course.

How foolish to imagine that the connection she’d felt between them just moments ago had been due to anything more than the skill of a talented performer. Sam knew better than to believe in such tenuous bonds. She’d already tried love at first sight, and no one needed to remind her how hard that had crashed and burned. Her mouth was still bitter with the taste of its ashes.

The reporters had all begun to migrate towards the stage, and she saw that Lithi was right in the thick of it. The Xithilene had chosen well to make her one of their cultural ambassadors. The musicians in the pit were packing up their things. There were only a few of them, maybe four or five, but it wasn’t too surprising. The music accompanying the dances was fairly simple, just drums and flutes. She glanced down at her own instrument nestled towards the back of the seat beside her. Jaess had asked her to bring it, but it didn’t look like there’d be an opportunity to play.

Another quick look at the stage made it clear that it’d be easy for her to slip out now if she felt like it. The dancers that weren’t talking to reporters were chatting amongst themselves, and no one was paying attention to her. Sam stood and shrugged on her coat, made quick work of wrapping her scarf over her shoulder, and grabbed her flute case. She walked to the aisle and turned towards the back of the house. T’xith would be waiting for her, she knew. Nothing else was holding her back, and she’d be returning in another couple hours. She’d just thank Jaess for his invitation after tonight’s show.

A large hand wrapped gently around her upper arm. “Wait,” he said as she paused. He released her arm and she heard him step back. “Please.”

Sam turned around and gave Jaess a weak smile. “Hey, I didn’t want to interrupt your interviews. Thanks again for having me here. I see why they chose you to come to Earth—your solo at the end was something else.” She’d tried for carefree, but she had a feeling that a bit too much honest enthusiasm had bled out there at the end.

Jaess folded his wings back tighter, making them seem smaller. “Thank you for coming.” He looked down at her flute case. “I was hoping you would play for me. The other humans will leave soon—it’s the same in all of the places where we perform. They ask their questions and then they’re gone, and the other dancers will be eager to return to our accommodations before tonight’s show.”

Sam hesitated, the fingers of her free hand tapping against her thigh. “Sure, if you have time. It’s no big deal if you want to go with the rest of them—you know, relax before the show. Just because you asked earlier doesn’t mean I’ll be offended if you don’t really feel like staying to listen to me play. I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

He smiled then, thin and quick, as his eyes seemed to darken. “I’m not as generous as you, Lady Sam. I asked you to play, and I still want to hear it.” His gaze flashed up to hers. “But if you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

Sam glanced up at the stage. Like he’d said, it was already clearing out. “Here?”

“Yes. I can’t think of any place better,” he replied.

“Once the reporters are gone. Sure, why not, right? Just don’t expect anything like the music your people play,” she told him. “And no more Lady Sam, all right? Just Sam, please. Just Sam.”

The smile he gave her in return was no longer faint and fickle. It bloomed and spread with his satisfaction until she felt as if she’d just walked into the hunter’s lair, offering herself up to its open jaws. Sam swallowed hard. She’d run through the gauntlet yesterday with back to back auditions. What was one more short performance between acquaintances?

7

She’d been aboutto leave. She’d almost walked away before he’d been able to stop her. Jaess forced his wings to remain locked in place, to keep his body under strict control. He’d noticed how Sam had flinched before at the sound of his people’s feathers. It’d felt simple enough back in Vastiss—find a way to Earth and then pursue the promise of a mate. Now Sam stood in front of him, close enough to touch, and he hadn’t the first idea where to start.

“Sam.” There. He’d done one thing that she’d asked, even if leaving out the lady before her name felt unnatural. He smiled and motioned towards the stage as they began walking back.

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