The table rattled as my leg accidentally hit it. I flinched at the jarring clinks of dishes more than from the slight ache blooming in my knee.
“It’s okay.” I scraped the hem of the tablecloth, the imperfections in the seam snagging on my nail. “You can go enjoy yourself with Zion. I’ll wait here.”
I could swear the gloom the bonfires were fighting exploded in Gedeon’s eyes.
“I will say this once more, Kali. And keep in mind that I do not usually repeat myself, yet I’m willing to do it for you.” He offered me his hand again. The glow from the burning sources illuminated the tattoo climbing up his wrist, the branches and trunks weaving around his limb. A tiny silhouette of a bird sat perched atop the abstract forest, its beak closed as it gazed into the horizon. “Dance with me.”
I searched for a reason to say no. To keep the distance I wished to close. To collect myself and sort out the maze in my mind, the mist trapping my soul, the emotions so volatile I couldn’t pinpoint the start point to unravel them and recognize what I was actually feeling.
Toying with the waistline of my pants, the six buttons in place of a zipper about to pop off from the million snacks I’d devoured, I admired how Conall’s partners and their friends swayed with the music.
For one night, everyone had put their differences aside and stood together like the walls of buildings framing the square. The curving railings on the balconies seemed to be forged from iron, the exterior recently painted in light shades. The simplicity disarmed any alarms of potential danger arising from how exposed the space was.
Zion clutched the backrest of my seat. “Pretty birdie.” He toyed with the neckline of my black t-shirt, the clothing he’d packed with the goal of provoking Gedeon. “Our strawberry awaits us.”
Gedeon tugged his white t-shirt, the material taut around his chest and biceps, the clothing obviously a size too small. Somehow, I guessed Zion had purposefully ensured it.
But Gedeon hadn’t complained once. He’d worn the t-shirt and explained the meaning of the phraseZion’s and Kali’s Strawberryto anyone who inquired, his voice stern and not accepting any derision someone might have been inclined to exude.
The seam of the tablecloth I was set on destroying gave way, and my nail slipped into the little pocket the folded linen had formed. “I don’t know how.”
“You have danced before, right?” Damia asked, waving Conall goodbye as he pushed off the table and sauntered to his partners huddling around a bonfire.
I ripped a short thread out, widening the gap in the hem. The sand-hued string floated to the ground as I confessed, “No.”
Education in Ilasall’s schools consisted of the best ways to serve the city, not how to loosen up. And the restaurants? The bars? A green wristband had to dangle on your wrist to grant you access. If you wore a black band, you could take your chances in the underground places, but you had to be ready to say goodbye to your body there. It was all about trading, and often, not the willing kind.
“That changes now.” Gedeon seized my wrist andtugged.
I stumbled as he yanked me out of the chair. My shoes slipped in the puddle of apple juice—I’d managed to spill a pitcher half an hour earlier.
Catching my waist, Zion hoisted me upright. His hold lingered while I tried to match Gedeon’s long strides, aiming for the dance floor.
“Gedeon, you can’t just?—”
He stopped, and I crashed into him. The muscles honed from years of actual battles met me like a block of cement, and I bounced off him. Training for the last half a year had strengthened my core, but my balance flew out the window any time I was near these two.
“Yes, I can.” His jaw verged on creaking from how hard he clenched it. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” The strength in his grip on my wrist ebbed, and his thumb brushed over my skin, the contact so gentle I ceased wrenching free. “Can we—” He sighed. “Can we forget about things for one evening? That’s all I ask. One evening. Dance with me. Please.”
I wracked my brain for a past instance of him stammering. Genuinely asking. Pleading.
That desperation persuaded me to nod, and he…lit up.
I couldn’t cease staring at him while he navigated us through the flock of people dressed in pinks, purples, greens, and yellows, the fabrics as bright as their laughter.
“Put your arms here.” Gedeon guided them to rest around his neck, his own gliding to the small of my back. The possessive splay of his hands warmed my belly, and a flush crept up my cheeks. “Now move with me.”
Clamping down on the rising need to jump and hook my legs around his waist, to grind against him, I puffed out, “You can’t teach me to dance when you’re terrible at it yourself.”
“I’m terrible?” His chuckle permeated the stuffy air from the herd of sweaty bodies swaying together, and the thunderous sound locked me to him. “Then be terrible with me.”
With me.
I swallowed.
“Not a chance.” Zion tugged on my hips, wrenching me out of Gedeon’s embrace. Spinning us around, he plastered himself to my front, precisely how Gedeon had done. “He can follow me while Iactuallyteach you how to dance.”
A snicker tumbled out of me at Gedeon’s grunt, but not a second passed before he glued himself to Zion’s back and left a trail of kisses—no,nips—up his neck, one every three drumbeats.
