“Because someone’s getting uneasy at us paired together.”
“Who?”
He grins. “I think we both know the answer to that one.”
Our dance ends and this male bows over my hand. “It was nice meeting you, female,” he says. “I’m sure we will know each other more later. I already have plans on what dishes to cook for you. Welcome to the family.”
My eyes widen because that’s the second male that has told me that this evening.
He chuckles and walks away.
I barely have time to catch my breath before another hand reaches for mine. In moments I’m whisked onto the dance floor again by another male dressed as a bloody warrior because I’m addicted to the beat of the music.
“Are you a transportation driver?” the new male questions.
“Nope.” That was easy.
The dance ends and I’m handed off to someone else. This new partner is taller than the last, with elaborate face paint that makes him look like some kind of ancient deity. His movements are precise and controlled, and he guides me through the steps with patience.
“You’re a quick learner,” he observes. “Most humans struggle with our formal dances.”
“I’ve always loved dancing,” I admit. “The patterns here are different from what I’m used to, but the joy is the same.”
He nods approvingly. “Are you the new med tech assistant?”
“No.”
He sighs dramatically. “Another wrong guess. You’re quite the mystery, little human.”
As we turn in the dance, I catch another glimpse of Bayzon. He’s moved closer now, though still not on the dance floor. Still watching and not dancing with anyone else.
Why doesn’t he just ask me himself if he’s so interested?
The next partner is a female who asks a question, trying to figure out my identity. She’s wrong, as usual. That dance ends too, and I’m immediately handed off to another partner. This happens so many times in a row the faces become a blur. And none of them can correctly guess my identity. And each dance is thrilling and I’m getting better at keeping time and following the footwork.
One partner, a male dressed in elaborate battle armor, laughs as he spins me. “Chief is going to combust if he doesn’t make a move soon,” he murmurs near my ear. “I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Chief?” I ask, though I’m starting to suspect I know exactly who he means.
“Bayzon. Our crew leader.” He grins down at me. “He’s been glaring daggers at every male who’s danced with you tonight. It’s the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in years.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. Part of me is flattered, but I’m also annoyed. If he wants to dance with me so badly, why doesn’t he justask? But another part of me—the part that remembers Roxy and Lila’s words—wonders if maybe he’s just not good at approaching me and being vulnerable.Prickly, they called him. Maybe prickly means he doesn’t know how to take the first step.
The dance ends and another partner claims me before I can think too hard about it.
Afterwards, I pause for a moment to catch my breath and look around and realize there are only three of us still wearing masks. The large mechanical clock on the wall lets me know midnight is fast approaching.
A male with very long fangs and a deep voice sweeps me onto the floor and dances with me. His movements are deliberately slow, almost lazy, and he keeps positioning us so that we’re in Bayzon’s direct line of sight.
“You are a delightful human to dance and speak with, and I appreciate this opportunity to drive Chief crazy. He’s getting angrier by the minute. Thank you and welcome to Timbur.”
“You’re doing this on purpose,” I realize. “Dancing with me just to annoy him.”
The male’s grin widens, showing off those impressive fangs. “Of course. He’s my brother. Annoying him is one of my greatest joys in life.” He spins me one last time. “But I’m also doing him a favor. Sometimes that male needs a push. He’s too stubborn for his own good.”
He walks away and that’s when I realize Bayzon really does look angry. That male hasn’t asked anyone to dance. His arms remain crossed and he still wears a mask. Underneath is a look of dour unsmiling, pride and arrogance.
Hmm. Well, if he won’t step forward and ask me himself, how can he be angry?
