She is, but she’s lost too much weight.
Yes, but she’s happy. Truly happy, not thinking about being sick, just enjoying the moment, and fuck, she’s beautiful in her joy. It’s infectious.
Zander said nothing, but he stopped mentally drafting the conversation he wanted to have with her about not overdoing it.
Zander forced himself to stop watching her and engage with the guests and flock members. He circulated around the tables, accepting compliments on the event, discussing the aurora’s unusual intensity, making small talk about feeding frenzies and other upcoming events. But his attention kept drifting back to the dance floor.
Emerald with Felix again, their movements easy and familiar.
Emerald with Toby, who moved stiffly but gamely, making her laugh.
Emerald with Spencer, and there was something different in how they moved together. Spencer’s hand on her waist, her palm against his chest or on his shoulder. Not sexual, exactly, but intimate. Connected.
And then the music shifted.
The driving beat faded, replaced by something slower. Sweeter. The opening notes of a classic love song drifted through the ballroom — gentle piano with soft strings. “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” The kind of song that made couples gravitate toward each other.
Zander didn’t hesitate. He crossed the floor with purpose, weaving through the paired-off dancers until he found her.
Emmy was catching her breath when she felt him approach. She wasn’t used to being winded and it annoyed her, but she was fine. A little tired, but not exhausted.
She’d sensed Zander watching her dance a good part of the night, as if his gaze had been a physical touch at times.
And now he was standing in front of her, a wall of power and intention. Vampire, power, andZander.
“Dance with me.” Not a question. His voice was low, meant only for her despite the crowd around them.
Emmy’s gaze met his, and she found herself caught by those impossibly blue eyes reflecting the aurora overhead, colors shifting across his face in waves of green and pink.
She wanted to say something clever to lighten the moment, but nothing came to mind, so she stepped into his arms.
His hand settled at the small of her back, and her palm found his shoulder — solid muscle beneath expensive fabric. It feltright. Like pieces sliding into place.
They moved together, and Emmy stopped thinking, let the song wrap softly around them. Other couples swayed nearby, but they all faded into peripheral awareness.
There was only Zander.
His thumb traced small circles against her spine, sending shivers through the thin fabric of her gown. She was hyperaware of every point of contact — his chest close enough to brush hers, the strength in the arm around her waist.
“You’re overdoing it,” he said, his voice soft, without censure. Observation tinged with concern.
“I’m fine.” The denial was automatic.
“Emerald.” Her name was both a reprimand and a caress.
She tilted her head back to look at him, and his expression stole her breath. He wasn’t hiding anymore. Wasn’t pretending. The careful control he’d maintained for months had cracked, and she could see everything — want, concern, and raw affection.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, softer this time. “I’m not at one hundred percent, but even at sixty percent, I can handle some dancing and socializing.”
His hand tightened fractionally at her back. “You have always been a stubborn, strongheaded genius.”
“Would you have me any other way?”
“I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.” His thumb traced her jaw and his eyes darkened. “Not one damned thing.”
The words hung between them, and then Zander’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
Emmy’s heart stuttered.
