Mireille waved Ronin off, plucking up her goblet and gulping her wine. So much better than the vinegary swill they offered at The Other Place.
Ronin tossed his fork down, then stood and held out his hand.
She cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Dance with me,” he said, voice tight.
“I don’t dance anymore. Only when lives are at stake.”
Ronin wiggled his fingers. “Livesareat stake. We could die tomorrow.” He sent a shit-eating grin toward the Koenig. “And figured I’d stake my claim to keep that mouth-breather away from you.”
Mireille huffed out a laugh, but didn’t rise.
“Come on, Valette,” Ronin coaxed. “One dance won’t kill you. I’ve never shown youmymoves.” Mireille gave him an incredulous look and he rolled his eyes. “Never shown you my moves with apartner. That silly number in the woods doesn’t count.”
Mireille snickered, remembering Ronin botching those ballet steps to save her from Julius Kosera. The memory softened her.
High Gods, what she wouldn’t give to go back to that time.
She didn’t care about the sex.
Liar, her wolf purred.
Okay, fine, ithadbeen mind-melting. The kind of sex that ruined her for anyone else.
But more than anything, Mireille wanted herfriendback.
So she let him pull her from her seat. Let him lead her onto the dance floor. Let him envelope her hand in one of his massive, tattooed mitts as he placed the other at the small of her back. He pulled her into him, crushing her bodice against his chest.
His iced pine and citrus scent washed over her, and her eyes welled up.
This was a terrible idea.
She stared at his plush mouth as he twirled her across the floor. She wanted to kiss him so badly, she could barely breathe. But was terrified of his rejection.
Sure, they’d fondled each other, fucked each other. But kissing was… Well, it was too intimate. Something they’d likely never do again. She bit her lip to stall her tears.
Ronin placed a knuckle under her chin and tilted her face up. “Hey.Hey. What’s this all about? Am I that terrible of a dancer?”
She garbled out a wet laugh. “You’re fine.”
He smirked. “Glowing praise.”
“I…” She didn’t even know how to start this conversation. Didn’t even know what she wanted to say. Her soft question barely parted her lips. “Do you still hate me?”
Ronin tucked her head against his chest, blowing out a long sigh that stirred her hair. “I never hated you. Though I had every reason to.”
“Haveevery reason to,” she murmured against his solid warmth. "Ronin, I’m so sorry about what I said about Selene. I didn’t mean any of it, I?—”
“Shhh,” he soothed, running a hand down her hair. “Creator, I’m so sick of it.”
“Sick of what?” She nuzzled into him. Savoring any contact she could get before he tired of holding her.
“I’m sick of trying to convince myself that we meant nothing to each other. I just…” He sucked in a shuddering breath, squeezing her closer. “I don’t know where to go from here.”
A tear stole down Mireille’s cheek, wetting his tunic. “What if we leave the past where it belongs—the badandthe good—and start over?” She gathered her courage, then pulled back to look at him, heartened by the affection in his eye. “If we survive tomorrow, can we do that? Just start over?”
He released her and held out a hand. “Hi. Ronin Matakos. Pleasure to meet you.”
