“I didn’t know they were together,” Rom says.
I laugh and shake my head. “They’re on again, off again. She claims the wizard hasn’t lost all of his magic in the bedroom.”
Rom grins. “Are you still angry with her?”
“Yep.”
“Then I am, too.”
The song ends, and another begins, the music swelling and leaping through the air like invisible faeries.
“Do you know this reel?” I ask Rom.
He releases me to snatch two cups from a passing server’s tray. He hands one to me. It’s spiced and warmed mead, and I savor a big gulp. Rom seems to be downing his in one go.
I touch his arm. “Are you nervous? We don’t have to dance.”
“I am a bit, yes,” he says. “But we will dance, may the Dark Mountain save you. I haven’t danced a reel since I was a youngling.”
“This one is easy. See how they simply go one foot in front and then the other? After that, they’lljust face outward and do the same. Once the music shifts, the circles messily break into two smaller rings, and everyone generally just acts ridiculous. Nothing fancy here in Leafshire Cove.”
“I suppose it’s time to get this party going then,” he says, handing his cup to another server.
This server is a tall, muscular faerie I’ve seen working at the art house now and then. I pass my cup on to the faeries as well and hold a hand out to Rom. He unties his cloak.
“You’re ready to show off, huh?” I grin up at him.
His jaw tenses, but he attempts a smile. “I’m not, but now is as good a time as any. Are you ready for the attention?”
“I am.” I take a slow breath to try to calm my racing heart.
He slips his hood off, and his black horns seem to drink in the light from the moon and the lanterns. His earrings—the ring near the tip of his pointed ear and the larger loop near the bottom—wink light back at me. And then he is draping his cloak over one of the many chairs lined up…
He stands, gives me a smile that makes my body melt, and he expands his wings a fraction. Breathtaking. He is a myth come to life, full of banked power, tall as hell, and sexier than anyone I’ve everlaid my eyes on. He takes my hand. Sparks of heat travel from his fingers into mine, and I take a steadying breath, walking toward the dancing. I keep my cloak on because the night is too chilly for me; I’m no gargoyle.
We spin into the first circle and stand side by side to join in on the steps. Tully catches my eye across the ring. I hadn’t realized she was right here. She blinks dramatically at Rom and acts like she’s drooling as her black-booted feet move in quick rhythm. I chuckle and focus on Rom.
He glances at what the others are doing now and mimics them by pulling me close. He smells so good—all mysterious spices and the sky after a rainstorm. His wings flare slightly, blocking us from prying eyes on one side. His grip on my fingers is firm but gentle, and his other hand slides around my waist, his talons pressing lightly into the small of my back. I swallow as warmth builds between my thighs. His eyes are half-lidded, and he grins down at me, a dimple on his cheek.
I want him to kiss me even though we are basically in front of the entire town. I find I don’t care what they think right now. My affection for Rom makes anything else seem unimportant.
He spins me under one arm, his talons grazingalong my hips and the tops of my buttocks. Shivers gallop down my legs. His eyes glow with what I think might be approval.
“You are just so very lovely, Laini,” he says in a quiet growl that has my toes curling. “Like a flower.”
“Thank you.” My voice is stupidly breathy for just a dance.
His wings stretch to cover us a little more, although I know he can see over them easily. Both his hands come to rest on my hips, and he dances close. I smooth my palms down his flat stomach, savoring the feel of his muscles and the way his waist narrows. He makes a little humming sound and eases his head closer to mine. He sets his lips on my ear, and I shiver with the way his warm breath dusts down my neck. My core throbs with want.
“Have I ever told you that your scent reminds me of early summer roses? I adore that scent.”
Happiness takes flight in my heart, and I feel giddy, lightheaded with the possibility of us. “Probably just my soap.”
“Whatever it is, it’s entrancing.”
I can’t stop smiling as he whirls me away in the way all the couples are doing. We link arms with the others and step forward and back, then side to side with alternating right and left feetleading. Most everyone is laughing and conversing, but others stare at Rom and whisper as they dance. The greengrocer’s wife is goggling at his wings. Greta, the butcher’s nearly grown daughter, is practically drooling over Rom, her green goblin cheeks turning dark pink. The whispering and gawking make the dancing less smooth, folk tripping occasionally as they go off the beat of the music.
The song ends, and everyone crowds around Rom.
