He held out his hand, palm up in request, never breaking eye contact as he waited. She studied him for a long moment before reaching out to take it. Slowly.
Gentle pressure on her hand had her rising, coming toward him. He didn't immediately back away to lead her where he wanted. Instead, he stayed still, pulling her into his space, even with him. Seconds passed as he fell into her eyes, giving her time to step away. The hunter within him roared in victory when she didn’t.
“My lady,” he said quietly. “You're not dancing, but you want to.”
“I…” She hesitated, but desire sparked in her eyes, even stronger than before. He was right. She very much wanted to dance. With him.
“Let me.” Keeping hold of her right hand, his left settled on her lower back so he could turn and propel her in front of him toward the dance floor.
She went, leading them to a shadowed corner of the floor, drawing them into the privacy and intimacy the darkness offered. He approved. She turned back toward him, hesitating just slightly as she put her hand on his shoulder. The surprised stares of those around them supported his perception that her choice to dance with him was significantly unusual.
“Let me,” he said again, his words melting into her hair as he pulled her close, his breath brushing her ear.
The music was different than what he was used to, more lyrical, but the underlying rhythm was thankfully close to something he knew. The couples they’d passed on the floor were mixed, with either partner leading, so he did what came naturally and stepped into her space to begin the dance. He moved confidently, leading her in the steps he had learned as a youth. She responded well, not fighting with him to lead the steps.
The snug fit of her dress accentuated her lithe curves, hinting at a dancer’s body. He appreciated that her heeled boots were worn, not for show, allowing her to be sure of her steps as she moved with him. He wanted to talk to her, ask her questions, but was enjoying just holding her, absorbing her presence.
A quiet battle raged inside him. He fought to let his instincts rule while his mind posed a threatening question—did the woman in his arms have magic?
Golden light spilled from the strings above, making her glow. She was vivid. Tonight, the hunter led, taking over his decision making, and he didn’t care to know the answer.
“You're not from here,” she stated in a non-challenging way that he liked. Most of the women he knew were Eldrin and more docile, unlike here in Calderre, where women reigned over the realm.
“No, I'm not.”
“Mmm. But you are a man of purpose. What brings you here?”
Something stirred inside him, urging him to glance down to confirm that no joining bracelet from a mate adorned her wrist. Satisfaction sparked a flame to glow in his chest at the sight of her bare arm.
Shaking off the odd sensation, he refocused on the reason for his rushed journey into a place that scared him. “I'm looking for information that could help me rescue someone in trouble.”
“Someone you care for?”
Everything pointed toward her providing a compassionate ear, yet emotion tightened his chest and held him mute.
Her hand shifted, fingers brushing lightly over his arm. “Tell me.” She mimicked his commanding tone from earlier, her gaze meeting his with clear intensity.
A hint of a smile ghosted his lips. He liked that she commanded instead of asked, gentle authority in her tone. But it was authority nonetheless.
He was surprised by how much he wanted to share with her. For the sake of engaging emotionally and sharing this burden with someone, not simply to gather necessary intel. The desire burned through the restraints locking the words away.
“Yes. Someone I care for very much. My soul-daughter, Brenna. A ten-year-old girl. My little ball of sunshine. But she’s… trapped and in danger. Taken from her home by those that mean her harm.”
A troubled expression crossed her features, marring the sweetness that had been there a moment ago. He watched her closely for a reaction, but nothing gave away her thoughts except a deliberate and controlled breath.
A deep, primal instinct drove him to pull her in closer. His few extra inches of height gave him the option of tucking her head under his, onto his chest, or leaning down to intimately speak into her ear. He chose the latter, almost kissing her hair as he did so.
Her citrusy scent enveloped him, filling him with her presence and sending a light wave of peacefulness through him. It was the first moment of calm he’d had in weeks, and he soaked up everything she had to give him like it was the first ray of sun after a dark, cold winter.
“How awful. You’re trying to free her from this… situation?” She emphasized the last word, making him wonder what her mind had imagined.
“Yes. She’s being held captive somewhere. I intend to bring her home, but I require assistance.” He decided to press a little further. “I’m looking for information. Some specialized resources, if anyone is willing.”
Holding her so close meant he couldn’t see her expression, but he felt a very slight, very telling tension run through her. Someone less attuned would have missed it.
“Do you know where she was taken?”
“No. I was able to follow their trail for quite a ways until it disappeared altogether. Not a single trace. I find that rather hard to believe. Don’t you?” He loosened his hold, putting a slight distance between them without letting go so that he could see her expression.
