The Dance
351 Words
The music shifted—slow, dark, the kind that wrapped around the room like smoke.
Matt extended a hand toward Brittany, his expression unreadable, his blue eyes glinting like polished steel.
“Dance with me,” he said. Not a question. A command wrapped in velvet.
Her first instinct was to refuse. To remind him that a Valeris didn’t bow to a Draxon. But instead, almost against her will, her hand slid into his. His touch was cool, his grip firm enough to remind her he could break bones without trying.
They moved to the center of the floor, and every gaze followed them. The Valeris heir and the Draxon son, circling each other like two blades in a duel disguised as a waltz.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Matt murmured, guiding her effortlessly through the steps. “Your family would call it betrayal.”
Brittany arched a brow, her lips brushing close to his ear as they turned.
“Then maybe I like betrayal.”
His smile was faint but dangerous. “Or maybe you like danger.”
She met his eyes, her pulse quickening at the way they burned now, sharper, hungrier.
“And you think you’re danger?”
“I don’t think,” he said softly. “I know.”
Before she could reply, a sudden crash shattered the moment. A glass, dropped too forcefully. A guest—human, drunk on more than wine—stumbled into their path, eyes glazed from whatever vampire had fed on him too deeply.
Matt’s hand tightened around hers, pulling her out of the way in a flash. His other hand steadied the human, his movements smooth, practiced. He leaned close, whispered something only the mortal could hear, and the man staggered off, dazed but alive.
Brittany raised a brow.
“Merciful. Not what I expected from a Draxon.”
Matt’s gaze cut back to hers, sharp and unreadable. “Don’t mistake mercy for weakness.”
The music swelled again, but the air between them had shifted. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull away—or never let go.
- Writer
