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It’s always there.
The music starts with a low rumble like a purr.
I drag my arm up my body until it’s pointed over my head, spotlight silhouetting my slow, sensual movement. I snake my hips, and as the beat speeds up, I start to climb.
I lift and split my legs.
I’m upside down, clinging to the pole by my thighs, arms outstretched and the butterfly wings fluttering when I catch sight of all five Wyverns in their box, deadly as ever in dark suits.
They’re on their feet, leaning over the rail.
Hunter has his arm hooked in Finn’s, stopping him from jumping off the balcony.
My heart speeds, and I can’t help but smirk.
Enjoy, boys.
Another rotation, another inversion, and I spot the Sorensens. I hold eye contact with Rhett, and his pupils dilate behind his glasses.
Again and again.
Every time I pick a pack leader out of the crowd, I meet his gaze and hold it in challenge until the spin takes me away.
Still don’t know how to flirt.
But a dominance battle bordering on eye-fuck?
I can throw that down.
I finally slide to the ground to finish the song on the floor.
On my knees, I throw myself into the music until they can see everything I am.
I writhe until the crowd growls. The vibrations light me up, lifting my temperature.
And when I finish, spread out on the floor, there’s a moment of silence before a cascading cheer and so many wolf whistles, I blush.
Eat that, Wyverns.
I glance at the balcony.
My smugness slips at the fire in their eyes.
The desire.
The heat.
The way their knuckles clench the rail.
It sparks that flip in my belly, and something deeper that I never want to name.
I give my bow before running off the stage.
In the crowded backstage dressing room, I shrug into a robe and collapse. My station’s a powder-covered mess, like someone dug out their bronzer to screw with me.
I brush off the dust, sneezing and semi-shocked they didn’t go all-out and graffiti my mirror in lipstick.
Missed opportunity.
