The crowd parted for him instinctively. No one told them to move. They simply did. There was something about him—something primal and dangerous—that made people step aside without thinking.
He stopped in front of me.
His golden eyes swept over me slowly, devouring every ridiculous inch of my fairy costume—the wings, the tiara, the glitter-covered wand.
Then his hand extended.
"May I have this dance?"
His voice was rough, low, barely controlled.
I placed my hand in his.
"You may."
The music shifted.
The bright and fast moving music slowed, faded into something I assumed was a waltz—strings and piano, romantic and sweeping.
Chet was manipulating us again. Like a puppet master pulling the strings of every marionette in the room.
It worked like a charm. The edge of chaos and danger melted away, replaced by romance. Whimsy. Egon pulled me into his arms immediately, one hand settling firmly at my waist while the other closed around mine.
The moment he touched me, the world steadied.
He felt like safety. Like home. Like something my heart had been searching for long before I knew he existed.
"You look like a dream," he murmured against my ear. His lips brushed my skin as he spoke.
I smiled. "You look like a Disney villain."
"What is a Disney?"
I laughed softly. "I'll explain later."
I moved closer without thinking, my body fitting naturally against his. The stupid wings shifted behind me, brushing his arm, but neither of us cared.
For a moment I forgot about everything.
The cameras.
The other contestants.
The ridiculous costumes and staged drama.
All of it faded away.
He smelled like cedar and smoke and something warm that belonged only to him. His heart beat steadily beneath my palm, strong and reassuring. The heat of his hand burned through the layers of tulle at my waist, sending tiny shivers across my skin.
I had danced with other males tonight.
Good males.
Kind males.
Males who might have been wonderful partners in another life.
But none of them were him.
