I'm just about to tip my champagne flute to my lips when the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle, alerting me to something that draws my attention to the back doors of the hall.
As I turn, my eyes land on Cecelia walking arm in arm with Donna, and my jaw drops.
Wearing her voluminous dark curls in their natural glory, they bounces down her exposed shoulders with every graceful step she takes. Her voluptuous chest is hugged by a satin bodice in a shade of crimson that depicts sovereignty and commands attention, her hips flaring out with the puffy skirt from the waist down.
Cecelia has all of my attention as I'm pulled toward her at the door, realizing how beautiful she is and how attracted I am to her. Besides the gorgeous dress that flatters her body, or the discreet slit that shows off her juicy thigh every time shesteps with her left foot, there's something so magnetic about her presence alone.
There's a faint pulse in my chest, skittering across my flesh as if the tattoo of the woman has come alive. A frown flits over my face as I become aware of the sensation, as if I'm once again giving life to the faceless female I had tattooed while I'd been drunk.
Had I subconsciously described Cecelia to the artist that night? Had I held onto the memory of her from that night in the woods, even when I put enough distance between us?
All these questions become pointless when my mind goes blank the closer I get to Cecelia. It's when I near her that the addictive scent of sweet jasmine arrests my airways, completely reeling me in as I smile and offer out a hand.
“Can I have this dance?” The question leaves my lips without conscious thought, without wasting another second, because I just want to have her alone, pressed to my being.
She and Donna exchange glances before Cecelia slips her hand into mine, courteously nodding as she meets my appreciative eyes.
“Sure.”
I feel like I'm floating as I lead her to the dancefloor, mesmerized by her ethereal beauty and speechless because I'm basking in the sweet tresses of scent she exudes. Almost as richly appealing as the pheromones she emanated while she was in heat, I'm enticed by her rich, sweet scent, losing myself in her eyes that sparkle softly now, the specks of green between the amber only noticeable because we're so close.
As the first notes of a Romanian folk song come on, Cecelia and I take our positions, one hand in mine as she placesthe other on my shoulder. I set one hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer and feeling the warm plushness of her belly against my solid thighs. I always thought I was whole on my own, and didn't realize how much I needed the opposite traits Cecelia provides to complement me.
Leading her on the dancefloor is effortless, even if I can't remove my eyes from her, and we move in sync to every beat of the song, flowing with the gentle rhythm as if we've rehearsed the steps before tonight. It's as if our souls guide the way, speaking a silent language that only our energetic bodies would understand, and it comes out physically in our timeous steps as we waltz across the dancefloor.
At the drop of the beat, I spin Cecelia out, and then gently tug on her hand to pull her back to me. She giggles lightly when we execute the move perfectly, her tanned cheeks igniting with a blush.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I whisper as I stare deeply into her eyes, abruptly aware of how important Cecelia has become to me. Apart from being my partner in the trials, we've grown closer, formed a bond that could never be replaced, despite what happened in the past. It has me wondering if she still hates me, but there's a warm glaze over her eyes that makes me suspect that might not be the case anymore.
Has she forgiven me? It's not like I ever asked for her forgiveness, or cleared the air about what happened as I set out to do when I first returned to Nightmist. So much has happened since then, but I've never felt Cecelia's warmth as strongly as I do right now.
“Thank you,” she blushes shyly. “You clean up quite well yourself, Dominic.”
My heart does a strange little flutter, and I mask it with a leveled chuckle. “I should thank Donna for the suit.”
“You can thank me now,” Donna's voice comes from behind me with a gentle tap on my shoulder. Cecelia and I stop swaying, and I glance around the dancefloor to see that the others are exchanging partners at the rise of a new song.
Cecelia removes her hand from mine and steps back, nodding at my sister. “I'm gonna go grab something to snack on,” she says with a sweet smile, allowing my sister to step in and place her hand on my shoulder.
We bow our heads briefly before waltzing around the dancefloor, when something catches my eye that stuns me.
Just a few meters away, Simon leaves Amber's side and follows Cecelia, tapping her on the shoulder.
“What is he doing…?” I think out loud, but Donna pats my shoulder.
“Uh-uh,” she shakes her head. “Let her be. She can handle herself.”
I grunt under my breath, but continue doing a round across the floor with my sister, keeping a watchful eye on Cecelia as Simon asks her for a dance and she accepts. My blood simmers, threatening to boil over with a sudden bout of jealousy when I see her hand in his.
It infuriates me to see the way his hand settles on the small of her back, and I gulp hard when I notice Donna staring at me curiously.
“What's wrong, Dom?” she asks with a raised brow.
“Nothing,” I cough to the side to clear my throat, catching the way Cecelia and Simon waltz around the dancefloor, growing more irritable by the second.
“Oh, don't give me that, Dom!” Donna chuckles. “I grew up with you. I know when something's wrong.”
I turn my attention back to Donna and roll my eyes. “Simon's gonna stir some kind of trouble, I just know it. I should probably cut in before something happens.”
