Joren’s grin spread as the music reached him. “Well,” he said, already moving, “that settles the rest of the evening.”
Calder shook his head, amused. “You say that every time.”
“And I’m always right,” Joren said, clearly pleased with himself.
Warmth rushed out to meet us, along with the sound and motion and the press of bodies moving without apology. The tavern was full but not crowded. Tables were pushed close, people standing where chairs had been abandoned earlier in the night. Someone laughed loudly near the bar. Someone else clapped in time with the music.
Maren didn’t hesitate. She caught my hand and pulled me forward, already laughing as threaded through the room.
“Come on,” she said. “Before they start betting on how long it’ll take you to dance.”
“I wasn’t planning to…”
Too late.
The space near the musicians had opened naturally, bodies shifting to make room. Maren spun once, skirts flaring, and dragged me with her, laughter bubbling up before I could think better of it.
The music took hold.
At first, I moved carefully. Conscious of where my feet landed, of who was nearby. Then Maren laughed again, bright and unrestrained, and something loosened inside me. The rhythm found me. The beat settled into my bones.
I laughed too.
Around us the night carried on. Voices rose. Glasses clinked. Someone shouted encouragement to no one in particular. The world narrowed to motion and sound and the feel of the floor beneath my feet.
When I glanced back toward the bar, Atlas was watching.
He hadn’t joined us, standing where the light was lower. He had one arm rested against the counter. His attention was fixed on me with an expression I felt rather than saw. The heat was still there, the hunger still banked. But now it was threaded with something softer.
Approval.
Maren caught my gaze and followed it, then laughed. “He’ll crave,” she said. “They always do.”
“I’m not waiting,” I said breathless and smiling, and turned back into the music. And for the first time, I danced without thinking about what came next.
The music surged and the circle widened as others joined. Joren was the first, clapping in time and spinning through with a grin that dared anyone to keep up. Fenix followed with less enthusiasm but better rhythm, earning a sharp laugh from Calder when he misstepped and recovered without missing a beat.
Kade hovered near the edge at first, watching with the faintest smile. Until someone tugged him forward and he gave in with a resigned shake of his head and a laugh.
Maren danced like she belonged everywhere at once, weaving through the space with easy confidence. At one point she brushed past me, breathless and grinning. “See,” she said. “Told you.”
The air was warmer now, the floor vibrating beneath my feet as the drum found a deeper rhythm. I turned, laughing and nearly collided with Joren as he swept past.
“Careful,” he said. “I bruise easily.”
“That’s a lie,” I shot back with a smile.
“Rude,” he replied, already gone.
And then the space shifted. Hands fell away. The music slowed, the fiddle dipping into something smoother. When I turned again Atlas was there.
“May I?” he asked.
“Yes,”
His hand found mine, war and steady. The other settling at my waist with careful restraint. We moved together without thinking, the rhythm slower, grounded, intimate.
The world narrowed again, but differently this time. His gaze never left mine. The hunger no longer banked but held carefully in check and threaded with something that felt like reverence.
