Shifter's Dance (6 page)

“Mine,” he whispered into her ear, driving his body
into hers in deep, hard thrusts that brought her back to the edge
as he hit some sweet, perfect spot high inside of her.

“Please…God, Stephen, again.” She groaned against
his chest and his lips seized hers, absorbing her shout. When he
pulled his head back into his own wordless shout, she quaked and
arched, taking him into her heart as surely as she took him into
her body.

* * * *

“Brown,” she said decisively as he came back from
the bathroom where he’d started the shower. He gathered her in his
arms and carried her to the shower, setting her down on steady
feet, marveling at how her well-trained muscles instantly
stabilized her.

“What about brown?” he murmured, pulling her against
his body and under the spray, watching as she turned her face into
it and soaked her hair.

“Favorite color. Or, it is now. Since I can’t see
any of them anymore, it might as well be.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the color of your hair, and your eyes,
and this beard, and you make me feel so good.” She tweaked at the
hairs on his chin, making him chuckle. She stood on tip-toes,
kissing him gently.

“Mine is green,” he confessed. “Winter is harsh,
where I live, but when spring comes, everything is green and it’s
so damned beautiful.”

“I bet.” She sighed, reaching for the soap. Romy
rolled it between her hands, that delicate jasmine scent
surrounding them. Setting the soap down, she stroked the lather
over the hair on his chest. Stephen’s nipples swelled and puckered
as her fingertips brushed over them, and he responded immediately,
growing hard again.

“Already?” she teased, reaching down to grasp his
cock between her slippery hands.

“With you, I’ll always be ready.”

“Mmm. There is definitely something to be said for
hot vacation sex and a guy with a quick recovery time.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the stomach.
Hot vacation sex?
Like hell. She was his mate.

He shook his head, pushing her hands away from him.
He hadn’t told her yet. He hadn’t told her anything, and as long as
they were naked together, he wouldn’t be able to.

“Romy, I’m sorry. I promised I’d stay, but before we
do this again, we really, really need to talk, so I need to get out
of here.”

The soap would itch as it dried, but he didn’t care.
He stumbled out of the shower, pulling a towel around him. He dried
his legs and chest and threw on his clothes, rushing for the
door.

In the hallway, he pushed the button for the
elevator, but nothing happened. He pushed a few times, just needing
to get the hell away, but again, nothing happened.

Swearing under his breath, he reached for his pocket
to call the front desk before he realized he’d left his phone in
his room once he’d realized he didn’t have signal anywhere on the
island.

“Stephen?” Romy came out into the hallway wrapped
only in a towel. Dripping wet and the sweetest temptation he’d ever
seen.

“
Fuck.”
His head sank back against the wall,
his hands buried in his hair. “Just leave me be, Romy.”

“Come back inside. We’ll talk.” She held the door
open.

“I can’t, not now, I’m sorry. If I go in there with
you, and I touch you, I’ll lose my head—both heads—again and then
we’re right back where we started.”

“I don’t think that’s such a bad place to be.
Please, let’s not do this out in the hallway. Come inside.”

“No!” He roared the word.

Another door opened and a couple walked out into the
hallway, giving them a strange look. The woman pressed the elevator
button, and of course, for
her,
it worked. When the elevator
door opened, he followed them on board.

“We’ll talk later, Romy,” he told her as the doors
slid shut, blocking out his view of her beautiful face and the
stunned expression on it.

Stephen had no idea where to go. He rode the
elevator down to the lobby, confused and aching to take it right
back upstairs to his mate.

“It won’t work for you.” Myron called from the
entryway when he paced back toward the elevator. “It only goes to
the third floor, and
you
don’t need to be anywhere near the
third floor right now.”

“Fine.” He bit off a growl. She was just trying to
help. He knew she was a card reader. A useful skill at times, but
all the card readers he’d ever met were puffed up with their own
sense of righteousness. He paused, knowing any moment she’d tell
him what to do next. With those cards spread out in front of her,
she could hardly stop herself.
And here it comes:

“The cards say you need to go for a swim. Have you
been to the lake yet?”

“Why would I go there?” he snarled, turning on
her.

“Don’t growl at me, Bonsaint.” She raised an eyebrow
at him. “Go on, go cool off.”

Stephen shoved his way past the front door, running
smack into Cemil, the younger Rowan brother.

“Stephen?” Cemil steadied him with a hand on each
shoulder. Stephen saw the moment the empath realized what was going
on, and brushed Cemil’s hands away.

“Don’t touch me. I don’t want you in my head.”

“You know, the longer you wait to tell her, the
harder it will be for her to accept you.” Cemil’s usually gentle
voice had an edge to it. “She’s not as fragile as you believe.”

“Butt out, Rowan.” He growled again as he walked
away, heading south toward the lake.

When he got there, he stripped down quickly, moving
toward the water. It was too warm to truly be comfortable for him
in his animal form, but he didn’t care. He let loose the bear
within, felt the familiar stretch and ache, and then dove. The
water was amazing, rushing around him as he went as deep as
possible before he needed to surface for air.

When he did surface, he lay back, letting the water
pool under his spine, floating. He would tell her, tonight, after
dinner. Cemil was right; the longer Stephen kept the secret, the
harder it would be for Romy to accept. But he wouldn’t ask her to
complete the bonding until he was absolutely certain she would be
safe with him. This trip had been necessary, but coming here may
have blown his cover. Not a big deal if it was just him and his
brothers—they could defend themselves. But to bring a fragile human
mate into the mix was untenable.

He heard a splash behind him, turned and saw Rekkus
and his mate at the shoreline.
Damn it.

“Hey, Stephen!” Dana called out. “I’m teaching yoga
for Trixie again tonight, you should join us. Romy will be
there.”

He took one big paw and sent a splash of water her
way. She laughed and splashed back, a tiny human splash, before
Rekkus tugged her away, leaving him to his solitary swim.

* * * *

Stunned.

It was the only word Romy could settle on for the
way Stephen had left her, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. The
emotions that had been playing tug of war in her head the past few
days had finally exploded and she was stunned. She mulled over the
episode in the shower as she brushed the tangles out of her
still-wet hair.

What kind of secret could Stephen possibly have that
was such a big deal? They’d covered any health issues like
responsible partners, beyond that, she didn’t really care. Unless
he was married or something. She paused her brushing.
Married?
No, he didn’t seem the type to screw around on a
wife. If she were honest with herself, she’d have to admit that her
feelings for Stephen were growing far beyond
hot vacation
sex.
Was that what had sent him scurrying from her room? Was he
as confused by the growing affection between them as she was? That
had to be it. He had to know she didn’t have any expectations once
they left the Wiccan Haus. They were both adults, it was fun; they
could go their separate ways when it was over.

The moment she thought the words, she felt a stab of
nausea, but she pushed it away. It was anxiety, the same anxiety
that had been haunting her since she was blinded. It would get
better over time, right?

She finished brushing, and braided her hair into a
quick plait, wrapping it around itself and sticking pins in it to
hold it in place. As she felt around the edges for any stray hairs,
she realized she’d worn her hair in a bun nearly every day of her
life. Maybe it was time to let go.

She slipped the pins from her hair, shaking it loose
from the braid. It felt strange, tickling the backs of her
shoulders, but good too: a prickly sensuality she’d never indulged.
She left it free as she made her way to the elevator.

In the lobby, she turned toward the sound of Myron’s
cards slapping.

“Hi, Myron,” she ventured.

“Good morning, Romy.”
Slap, slap, slap.
“Your
hair looks nice.”

“Thanks.” She touched the length hanging around her
shoulders self-consciously. “I’m feeling restless. Can you
recommend a class?”

“Trixie is doing meditation out on the lawn…”
Slap, slap, slap.
“But that’s not what you need. The yoga
studio is empty.”

“I’m taking yoga tonight with Dana.”

“I know.”
Slap.

It was sort of infuriating, the way the other woman
was dragging it out of her, but then she realized that Myron wasn’t
suggesting yoga at all.

“How big is the studio?”

The empty studio was perfect. After fetching her
battered old “for luck” pointe shoes from her room, Romy made her
way to the yoga studio, feeling along the walls to get an idea of
its size. Big enough. And there was a stereo in one corner with an
iPod jack. Even better.

Bless you, Myron.

Romy took her time warming up, using the stereo
cabinet as a make-shift barre. When sweat dripped freely from her
forehead and her limbs were loose, she slipped her feet into the
shoes, tying the ribbons at her ankles, and turned on the
music.

She let the feel of the music move through her,
taking small steps at first, finding her bearings after eight weeks
without dancing. Soon, she was attacking each step, throwing
herself into each movement with a desperate precision.

It felt good.
A fierce joy swept through her,
and she wanted to share it. She thought of giant, gentle Stephen
and the dance grew more sensual. What would it be like to dance
with a man like him? Her movements slowed, a few steps forward…a
teasing pirouette…and then she could feel his huge hands on her
waist as she leapt into the air. The fantasy built upon itself,
echoing until she could feel a new dance in her blood. Smiling, she
moved to the stereo and started the song anew.

* * * *

Stephen heard the noise in the yoga studio as he
walked by, paused in the doorway and the sight took his breath
away.

Romy was alone in the studio, dancing, or something
like it. Her hair hung in long, loose waves around her shoulders,
swaying with her steps. A pair of tattered shoes on her feet, she
moved in tiny steps across the floor, paused a moment, and then
dropped down off her toes. She paced back to where she had started,
and then moved again. When she reached the center of the room, she
stretched out like an exquisite waterfowl, arms and one leg
reaching. She circled her leg back and her chest plunged toward the
floor. He lurched forward, reaching for her, believing that she was
falling, but she righted herself, scratched her back absently, and
started the whole process over.

He watched as she made her way through the same
steps, over and over, before moving on to another sequence, giving
it the exact same meticulous attention. Every once in a while,
she’d start the music over, and move through the whole series.
There were certain points where her movements would look like a
miniature of the step she wanted to take: she wouldn’t stretch her
arms all the way out, wouldn’t step all the way onto her toes, like
she was holding back.

“Why do you hesitate?” he finally asked.

She startled, dropping off her toes.
Damn.
He
hadn’t meant to scare her.

“Stephen?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Come here, I could use your help.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry for this morning.”

“You aren’t married, are you?”

He damn near choked at that. “No, definitely
not.”

“Okay, then we can talk about that later. Come here,
please.” A grin flashed on her face as she beckoned him forward.
Her scent hit him at the moment she reached for his hand and the
wildness crept back into him. The animal inside him pushed to
complete the bond.
Not married—but I want to be, lover.

“This jump is typically assisted by a partner—I take
three steps—” she moved back across the room and demonstrated “—and
when I reach here, your hands come around my waist, like this.” His
breathing grew shallow as she placed his hands on either side of
her waist. “And I jump. You lift at the same time, so I can go
higher and hold the position longer, and then you set me down.”

“I’ve never done this before.” He shook his head. “I
don’t want to drop you.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve been dropped tons of
times.”

Anger flooded him, that her dance partners could
have been so careless that they’d dropped her.

“Hey, it happens. It’s okay, really. A few bruises
never hurt anyone. Besides, I trust you.”

“You do?” How could she trust him, when he was
keeping such a huge secret from her?

“Yeah.” Her grin was stunning as she reached down
and squeezed the hand that was still on her waist.

“Then let’s do it.”

The first time, he almost did drop her, but she
laughed it off.

“See? You’re a natural. Again.”

He lost track of how many “agains” there were, but
there were enough that he suspected his arms might be sore the next
day. It was worth it, though, to see her face light up every time
she threw her arms back and soared in his hands.