“Why shouldn’t I call you ‘pet’?” Erik inquires.
“Not everyone is tolerant of all romantic relationships,” I tell him. “Especially in the South or the Midwest, in some of these small towns and rural communities, it can be dangerous for people like us.”
“People like us?” He flashes me a devastating grin. “There are no people like us. Let anyone try to deride or harm you. It will be the last word they speak, the last act they perform. There are ghosts in this place, too, spirits on whom I can call.”
“While that’s all very fucking hot, you really need to keep yourvoice down.” I squeeze his arm briefly as we enter the big barn.
He scoffs a little, but he doesn’t keep talking about his godly powers—mostly because Christine captures him immediately and begins teaching him the basic steps of a line dance.
“They have an area for beginners, see?” She points. “We’ll start over there.”
He’s a natural dancer, becauseof coursehe is. With a nearly infinite intellect and a perfect body to match, how could he not be? The woman supervising the beginner’s area seems astonished at how quickly he progresses. And that’s how, not ten minutes after our arrival, Erik and Christine and I leave our hats on a table and take places on the main floor to dance Big & Rich’s “Fake ID.”
I can barely keep my mind on the steps half the time, because Christine is in her element. I’ve seen her moves onstage forSidewinder; I know her sweet spot is somewhere between hip-hop and country with a dash of lyrical. But I couldn’t have predicted the level of energy she’s bringing to the floor today. Maybe it has something to do with all the orgasms we gave her—or the blood she drank from both of us—but she’s dancing with a gleeful frenzy that makes me laugh aloud. Her hips swivel with a fluid grace I could never match. Her waist writhes and her spine curves like she’s got no bones at all. She makes it look deceptively easy, but I’m already sweating, and I know just how much taut muscle it takes to move one’s body so perfectly at that speed.
She’s fucking amazing.
And then I look past her to Erik.
He dances with a furious power and a wicked freedom that make my heartbeat kick up even higher. His boots slam on the floor in perfect rhythm with hers. There are flames in his eyes and knives in his smile. His body swerves with virile ferocity I’ve never seen in a human being, and in that moment, I decide I need him in myshow. I need him onstage, opposite Christine, in the role of the love interest. Hell, with their level of talent and chemistry,Sidewinderwill be headed to Broadway in no time flat.
Their energy drives me, hauls me into the same hectic storm, and I dance harder than I ever have in my life. It’s violence, it’s wild joy, it’s freedom—it’s brutal on the body, but it feels almost as good as sex.
During the slower section, Erik and I move in on Christine, rolling our hips toward her in sync while she dances. We’re riding the line of inappropriate, so after a few beats, I pull back, and Erik follows my lead. Still, even though we keep it PG the rest of the time, I’m pretty sure anyone watching can tell that we’re both into Christine and that she welcomes our attention.
We dance through Belles’s “I Hate Trucks” and Miranda Lambert’s “Ain’t in Kansas Anymore,” and then I stagger off the floor, soaked and panting. I collapse into a chair at the table where we left our hats. Maybe I should spend more time working out and less time writing songs.
“Need a drink,” I gasp out when the other two approach, and Christine hurries off to get me one. “So how’d it feel?” I ask Erik as he sits opposite me.
He smiles, the new scars across his right cheek pulling tight. “It felt like rebirth.”
“Feels like death to me,” I groan, and he laughs. His laugh, like his voice, is musical, beautiful. I crave the sound almost as much as I’m craving a glass of water right at this moment.
Christine returns with a couple waters and a couple beers. “Wasn’t sure which kind of drink you wanted.” She sets them on the table, then perches her butt on Erik’s knee. His look of pleased astonishment is so cute, I can’t help grinning as I open one of the water bottles.
A bulky shadow falls over our table, and I look up to see the sametwo guys who frowned at us in the booth earlier.
“Hey there, sugar. You wanna dance?” the bearded one says to Christine.
She lifts an eyebrow. “No, thanks. I’m here with someone—some people…” She blushes, looking disconcerted.
It doesn’t bother me that she’s a little flustered. After all, it’s the first time she’s had to explain our connection aloud to strangers.
“She’s here with us,” I clarify.
“But you and this guy are together, right?” says the bearded man to me. “So she’s free to have a little fun on her own.”
Christine has regained her composure, and she says firmly, “I’m here with both of them.”
“You’re shittin’ me,” says the man, and his friend whistles. “You’re here with him?” He points to me, and Christine nods. “And withhim?” He points to Erik, and Christine nods again.
“You seem capable of grasping simple facts,” Erik says to the man, his voice a purring threat. “How delightful. Perhaps now you will take your unwanted attentions elsewhere and leave us in peace.”
“Yeah…” The man scratches the back of his head. “See, y’all don’t seem to realize that this ain’t no place to show off your lifestyle. This is a family event. I’m sure you can understand why it’s best if you move along.”
“We’re not showing off anything,” Christine says. “And you don’t run the event, so I don’t think you have the authority to kick us out.”
“I know the guy who runs it,” replies the bearded man. “Y’all need to get gone, and I’m asking nicely. If you won’t listen, Burt and I will go talk to some people who can make you move on.”
