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“Eyes on me,” he’d said, like he needed the link between us to be strong–real–while so much around us seemed under threat of falling apart. The risk of someone walking by only made it more intense. Every thrust felt like a claim, like he was reminding both of us that even with the world falling apart around us, this still belonged to us.

When I came, my legs shook so badly he had to hold me upright, his chest pressed against my back as I trembled through the aftershocks that followed me the rest of the afternoon.

That’s how we existed, day in and day out, but there was something–someone–missing.

I still didn’t know where my husband was.

No one would tell me. Every time I asked, Graves gave me polite but firm deflections, reminding me that recovery takes time. I knew he was out of the hospital, but he had vanished behind walls I wasn’t allowed to pass through.

Every night, I lay in bed with Damon’s warm body pressed against mine, listening to Ares’ soft snores from across the room where he slept beside Hunter. I couldn’t help but wonder how long we could keep this up–three misfits playing royals while the enemy sniffed around the gates.

The studio is still buzzing with energy when Madame Duval calls my name at the end of rehearsal.

“Arianette,” she says, looking down at her notes. “I’ve been looking for the right dancer to fill the primary role in the spring performance, and I’ve chosen you.”

For a second, I just stand there, chest heaving from the final combination. Then the words sink in.

A primary role.

“Really?” I ask, unbelieving, my voice coming out higher than I intend.

Madame Duval gives me a rare, small smile. “You’ve improved over the last semester. The Rite of Spring isn’t a standard ballet. It requires an understanding of raw movements and a connection to nature.” She tilts her head. “It’s been a long time since a Baroness was in my class. You’ll be my Chosen One.”

“Thank you,” I tell her as a surge of pure joy explodes through me. “I won’t let you down.”

“I should expect not.” She turns and calls another student’s name–effectively dismissing me.

A bright, breathless laugh escapes my lips as I spin toward Hunter, who stands silently against the back wall like he always does–watchful.

I forget everything. The rules, the careful distance he’s been keeping, even the bruises still tender to the touch on my throat.

I run straight to him and jump.

Hunter catches me instinctively. His strong arms wrap around my waist as my legs lock around his hips. For one beautiful, weightless moment, it feels perfect. I bury my face in his neck, laughing with pure happiness.

“I got the primary role!” I whisper against his skin, squeezing him tighter.

Then reality crashes back in. Hunter stiffens beneath me. His arms lock, but not in the way I want. The joy I’m feeling twists into embarrassment as I realize what I’ve done. I pull back quickly, sliding down his body until my feet hit the floor. My cheeks burn.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer, stepping back and wrapping my arms around myself. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have–I forgot. I’m really sorry.”

Hunter stares down at me with those pale blue eyes, jaw tight, breathing a little harder than usual. His hands flex at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. The tattoos on his forearms shift with the tension. Symbols and letters and numbers that are as unreadable to me as the man in front of me.

“Nettie…” His voice is rough, strained. “It’s okay.”

But it isn’t. I can see the war happening behind his eyes–the hunger and the fear fighting each other. He takes one small step back, putting that careful distance between us again.

I swallow hard, the excitement from the solo dimming under the weight of the moment.

“I just… I got excited,” I whisper.

Hunter’s gaze softens, just a fraction. “I know. You should. It’s a big fucking deal.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, hands clenched, fighting the part of himself that almost reached for me.

And I stand here too, heart still racing, wondering how long we can keep dancing around each other before one of us finally breaks.

The truck rumbles smoothly down the long, winding road that stretches between campus and the House of Night. Golden afternoon light filters through the trees, casting shifting patterns across the dashboard. It’s just Hunter and me today. Damon had a lab he couldn’t miss, so Hunter offered to drive me home. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it’s… heightened. Like we’re both hyper-conscious of every breath, every small movement of being in an enclosed space together alone.

It doesn’t help that he smells so good and it reminds me of him being on top of me, cock thrusting in and out of my mouth. I’d been so full of him that night: taste, smell, feel. I know he’s upset about what happened, but being in a tight space like this only makes me aware of how much I want him.