My heart does a flip in my chest. “All right.”
Dorian takes a few cautious steps closer—nothing like Martin’s invasive attempts at closeness. Regardless, I’m forced to suppress a gasp as his hand comes behind my back. Not out of fear, but at how his hand warms my skin instantly. It’s then I realize neither of us are wearing gloves. He lifts his other hand and I place mine over his. We start to sway, eyes averted over each other’s shoulders as we move to the slow beat. We continue like that for several minutes. I’m so aware of him, of the feel of his hands in contrast to the many inches that separate the rest of our bodies. I don’t even notice when the song ends and a new one begins, slightly faster than the last. I only notice when he takes both my hands and guides us into a new rhythm, one that has us stepping together and apart, together and apart.
His countenance slowly shifts from his signature serious expression to something more boyish, easy. Lightheaded euphoria thrums through me, courtesy of the Starshine still swimming in my veins, and soon a smile tugs my lips. With my eyes still anywhere but his, I allow myself to pretend I’m not dancing with Dorian Ariko, just…someone. A boy. And for a moment, we’re not at the place I caught him sneaking off to after I followed him. Just a music hall. A dance. An evening of fun and freedom.
Dorian dances like he’s done this before, which surprises me. From how uptight he acts most of the time, I would have pegged him for someone who would only feel comfortable at a stuffy ball, not moving light on his feet to a jazz band. When we next step apart, he releases one of my hands and turns me with the other, spinning me in a circle. Then he brings me back to him. Without realizing it, I step fully into his arms, my arm around his neck and his palm low on my back. Our other hands remain more chastely clasped at the side, but this time, we’re so close it makes my breath hitch. A mere inch stands between us, and I can feel his breath stirring my hair. I sense his eyes burning into me and I force myself to look up and meet them.
There’s a ponderous expression on his face as he holds my gaze, and I feel like there’s a question written in the crease between his brows. “What?” I say, my voice coming out breathy.
“Who is Martin to you?”
Just like that, my fantasy about dancing with justsomeoneevaporates. Because someone else wouldn’t ask such a thing without more delicacy. “He’s a friend,” I say curtly. “Hewasa friend. He spends time with the other resident performers at the Vulture’s Prose.”
“Just a friend?
I know I shouldn’t elaborate on my history with Martin, but Starshine seems to be loosening my tongue. Or perhaps it’s gratitude for Dorian’s intervention. “He’s a former lover, but I never liked him the way he wanted me to. He’s not my type. And now I don’t like him at all.”
Amusement flickers in his eyes. “Not your type? What is your type then?”
He probably expects me to flatter him, and I should. If I were smarter, I’d take this opportunity to get back on his good side, to convince him I’m competing for his hand with my whole heart. I look away from him and answer only with a shrug.
“Come on,” he says, his serious façade crumbling more and more around him, revealing another layer of an easy manner I never knew existed. “Tell me. Think of this as one of our rendezvous for the competition. If you were wily enough to steal an extra date with me, you might as well take advantage of it.”
My mouth falls open as I return my gaze to his, indignation rolling through my core…only to find that crooked smile of his playing over his lips.
Holy shells. Did he just…playfully tease me?
It’s enough to lower my defenses as well, so much so that I find myself speaking the truth. “I like men with a little extra blubber.”
He laughs. “Blubber?”
“Why is that funny? I’ll have you know I find blubber very attractive. I was praised for being a particularly rotund seal pup, and I’m proud of that.”
His grin grows wider. “I’ve just never heard someone use that term before. Since you’re a selkie temptress, it makes sense you’d use the word blubber. And that you’d find it so cute.”
“Oh,” I say, ignoring his use of the wordtemptress. For the first time, it doesn’t sound like an insult coming from his lips. “I forget blubber is more of a sea fae asset.”
“What else do you find attractive?”
“Humor. Kindness.” The next word comes unbidden. “Muscles. I…I find muscles very attractive too.” Damn it, why did I just say that? Stupid Starshine.
He quirks a brow. “Is that so?”
My cheeks burn, and I quickly seek to shift our conversation anywhere but around muscles. “What do you like in a mate?”
He opens his mouth but stops himself. Slowly, the mirth fades from his eyes and his expression turns stony again. He clears his throat. “I seek a bride with goodness, chastity, and a deep reverence for the Almighty, someone who will want to stand at my side as a demonstration of His greatness.”
I frown. The line sounds cold and rehearsed. I nibble my lip, certain I shouldn’t say anything. And yet…that damn Starshine urges my mouth to move before I can stop myself.
“Is that really what you like in a mate, or is that what you want said in the broadsheets?”
He narrows his eyes, and I fear I should have swallowed my words after all. Then his composure loosens and he releases a heavy sigh. His playful smile returns. “We are pretending to be on an official date, aren’t we?”
“You said it, not me. And I certainly wasn’t planning to go on record about how much I love blubber and muscles, so your answer should be candid as well.”
He releases my waist and turns me in another circle before bringing me right back into his arms. This time, my chest brushes his, sending a roiling heat low in my belly. “I want a woman who is…honest.”
That’s not me. Not when it comes to him, at least.
