“Like this?” she asked, mirroring my stance with her arms extended, her palms facing upward.
“Almost.” I stepped behind her, adjusting the angle of her elbows. “Your arms should form perfect crescents, like the phases of the moon.”
She adjusted, and I noticed how the sunlight caught her hair, turning the strands to inky jewels.
I cleared my throat and stepped back. “Better. When the music begins, you’ll turn clockwise while I turn counterclockwise. Three steps, then we face each other again.”
She followed my instructions, her movements hesitant at first but growing more confident with each attempt.
“They’ll expect me to fail, won’t they?” she asked as we practiced a turn for the fifth time.
“They’re counting on it. The Shadow Rite is typically performed only by vampire couples who have had specific training. No one outside my people has performed it in living memory.”
A spark lit her eyes, the same one I’d seen when she faced down the blood magic sigil. “Then I’ll practice until it’s so smooth, I can do it as well as a vampire.”
My smile rose. “That’s my stubborn witch.”
Her eyebrows lifted at the possessive phrasing, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she asked, “What comes after the turn?”
“We approach each other.” I demonstrated the steps, moving toward her with measured strides. “Right foot crossing over left, then left over right, then right forward.”
She copied the movements, eliminating the distance between us until we stood close together.
“And then?” Her voice had softened, and her eyes were fixed on mine.
“Then we circle.” I placed one hand lightly at the back of her waist, taking her right hand with my left. “Like this.”
I guided her into the circular pattern, our bodies moving in tandem around an invisible center point. Her hand felt small in mine, but there was strength in her grip.
“This part represents the first tentative connection,” I said. “The beginning of two paths merging into one.”
Cyrene’s gaze remained on mine as we moved, her pupils dilating. “And this is just the beginning?”
“The dance grows more complex as it progresses, symbolizing the deepening of the bond.”
We continued through the afternoon, working through each phase of the dance as the sun tracked across the sky. Cyrene learned quickly, her natural grace compensating for her lack of experience. By the time the light had turned golden with the approaching sunset, she had mastered the first part of the routine.
“You’re a natural,” I said as we paused to catch our breath.
She laughed, the sound bright in the quiet room. “Liar. But I appreciate the encouragement.”
“I’m serious.” I watched as she pushed a strand of hair from her flushed face. “Most take weeks to learn what you’ve accomplished in hours.”
“You’re an excellent teacher.” She smiled up at me, and something in my chest tightened at the genuine warmth in her expression.
“Ready to continue?” I asked, eager to be moving again, to have the excuse to touch her.
She nodded, taking her position across from me. “What comes next?”
“The most challenging part.” I demonstrated a complex series of steps that involved weaving around each other, our hands brushing but never fully connecting. “This represents the dance of courtship. Approaching and retreating, testing boundaries.”
Her brow tightened as she attempted to follow the pattern. On her third try, she stumbled, bumping into me. My arms went around her, steadying her.
“Sorry,” she muttered, her hands splayed against my chest.
I didn’t release her immediately. “Everyone stumbles.”
She looked up at me, her face a short distance away. “Even you?”
