“I was only a replacement,” he said, guiding me to the center of the room. “Tallon should have been there.”
The music faded, leaving a charged silence. Conversations dwindled. Even the musicians stood poised, waiting for our signal.
I resisted the urge to bite my lip and instead lifted the front panel of my dress, tying it with deliberate precision. Sol women tucked their dresses into their belts, Gayle had said, though mine wasn’t cut for that style. My fingers brushed his chilled gold mantle as I steadied myself, resenting the barrier it placed between his warmth and my touch.
He caught my hand in his, his grip firm but careful, his gaze unwavering. His palm settled low on my hip, tugging me flush against him. The press of him stole my breath, and his thigh slipped between mine with effortless confidence.
His breathing stayed steady, unaffected by the eyes fixed on us. My pulse hammered, my mind racing with fears of missteps and imagined disasters. What if I tripped? Or stepped on his boot? Worse, what if everyone saw the truth etched across my face—that I loved him?
I loved him.
“Peace.” His voice rumbled low, pulling my focus to his eyes. His palm slid up my back, spreading warmth through the fabric as he held me closer. “I feel your heart.”
But did he hear what it whispered with every frantic beat?
The light caught on strands of silver at his temples, accentuating the weathered creases near his eyes. No longer did I wonder if those lines were carved by smiles—they were etched by sunlight and war. The same silver dusted his scruff, lending an edge to his otherwise polished appearance.
I nodded, unable to find my voice. With him, I was safe. I trusted him.
He drew in a breath, and the musicians responded, launching into a vibrant, pulsing rhythm. Relief coursed through me, loosening the tension in my shoulders. His lips quirked as though he knew, and I wet mine in response.
His thigh pressed between my legs, forcing my retreat. I dragged my boots against the polished floor, hips swaying to match his lead. He pulled me forward, then back again, asking me to follow with a steady rhythm.
A grin teased at my lips, but I refused to let it break through. Instead, I chased his movements with growing confidence.
The dance ignited between us, as fiery as our rehearsals. Heat seeped into the air, thickening with tension after every step. As the music quickened, it urged our pace into a frenzy. When he pivoted, I hooked my leg around his to anchor myself, refusing to lose the solidity of his body.
He hummed, a growl of approval, as he guided me through another set of steps. It felt like a game—a dangerous, intimate game. His movements asked; mine answered. When I spun into his arms, his hips pressed against my backside before he quickly ducked them away, a smirk curling my lips.
The tempo surged, my feet flying to keep up. A misstep faltered my rhythm, but he disguised it with ease, crushing my chest against his. I gasped for air, clinging to him as I regained my footing.
Heat flushed through me, both from exertion and the undeniable pull of desire simmering beneath my skin. How would I walk away from him? How could I possibly go about my night pretending I didn’t burn with need? The hunger for him lurked just under the surface, threatening to tear its way out.
The music reached its crescendo, and he flung me out with practiced precision. When I returned, I crashed into his chest, his hand gripping my thigh. His fingers pressed hard enough to leave an impression, and a sharp gasp tore from my lips.
Arching against him as he bent me over, the music faded around us. His thumb brushed the dagger strapped to my leg, and I glanced at Greaves upside down, who arched a brow.
Kallias pulled me upright, slow and deliberate. My hand trailed up his chest, settling beneath the cold chains of his mantle.
When our gazes met, the hunger blazing in his nearly buckled my knees. His jaw flexed as he steadied me, eye twitching as his focus dropped to my mouth.
I turned my head, surveying the room. To my surprise, the crowd had joined us at some point, their dances drawing them into their own private worlds.
Kallias released my thigh with agonizing slowness, his fingers curling against me before falling away. My breath came in shallow, ragged bursts, his tension echoing mine.
Dragons above, how I reveled in the unrestrained lust in his gaze, a fire threatening to burn through his resistance.
“Well done!” Claydon called, his applause crisp and deliberate as he and his wife strode over. Their movements were unhurried but purposeful, hemming us in against the crowd. “I daresay you’ve set the bar quite high for the night!”
“And to think you didn’t know the dance, Princess,” Gayle added, her warm gaze gleaming with amusement.
“I had the best teacher,” I replied, feeling the heat of Kallias’ presence beside me.
His jaw stiffened, and his fingers twitched at his side. The king of Radaan, always stoic and collected, stood unsettled.
By me.
“Will we dance again?” I asked, tilting my head toward him.
