She separates her hand from mine and, moving like water, leaves me and switches partners. I turn to face mine and have to stifle a groan of frustration when I find myself once again staring at that golden straw-like hair.
"Ladies are usually more pleased to have me in front of them."
My hand presses his, devoid of warmth. It feels strange to be in contact with his skin. Cassian usually wears those leather gloves, as if the touch of a human were the most repulsive thing imaginable. Zerion dares to interlace his long fingers with mine while he spins me around. He’s taking liberties, I’m sure he’s slightly ruining the harmony of the dance.
"I apologize again for bothering you," he murmurs near my ear.
"Again? I don’t remember hearing an apology before." I raise an eyebrow while staring in
