24. Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Three

T he only person loving the fact that I will be Prima Ballerina at the showcase is Meg. I have taken to late night practices, in a bid to keep busy, while she has taken to watching me through video call instead of studying.

"You need to extend your legs on the leap," her entire face fills the screen. I've propped my phone up on the piano so she can see the majority of the dance studio. Theo couldn't join me today, his musical talents were required at a bar mitzvah in the city. Letting my arms drop heavily from their poised position in front of me, I scowl at my best friend .

"You don't even know ballet."

"I know what looks good. You're leaping as if you're scared the ground might disappear beneath you. Let yourself feel the sensation of floating before you rush back down to earth." I snort a laugh.

"You're so full of shit. But fine." Running back the music in my head, I start the routine from midway through, drifting from one practiced plié into an arabesque. For now, I'm sticking to the solo numbers, not trusting myself to ask my partner Trey to join my late-night sessions. He's six-foot of lean muscle, blond swoopy hair, impeccable posture and gloriously gay. All the best men are, but I don't trust myself to let that hold me back. I'm strung so tight, if he were to lift me above his head right now, I'd most likely arch down to try and suffocate him. My foot wobbles and I trip out of my rigid stance, grabbing the rail to stop myself from crashing to the ground.

"Woah, where the fuck did your mind just go?" Meg's voice echoes, ringed with humor. She knows exactly where it went. Ever since I accepted Axel's invitation to the Fall Ball last week, and avoided the Shadowed Souls like the plague ever since, my dreams have been more than vivid. I wake horny, I attend classes horny, I dance horny. Then, I made the mistake of drinking too much wine alone last Friday and spilling every confused, cunning thought that popped into my brain.

"So," Meg continues while I roll my ankle. "Who was it this time?" I throw her my middle finger, half hobbling over to my phone. Only when she sees me wince does she grow serious. Her pale blue eyes widen and she nears the camera. "Wait, are you okay? Where are your compression socks?"

"I couldn't find them in my bags. I think I left them back at the manor." I huff, swiftly holding up my hand to cut off her next words. "And before you lecture me, I haven't had time to order more. AP classes are hard, you know."

"Bitch, I know. I'm taking three of them. Get yourself some damn socks." I wave her off, bending to rub my ankle when Meg's sharp intake of breath sounds through the speaker. I raise my brow in her direction but she's looking off into the distance. "Avery, is there someone else with you?" My heart skips a beat as I stand back at my full height.

"No," I mutter quietly. Shifting my body aside, I watch the reflection of the camera rather than turn around to face the truth myself. I don't see anything at first. A large room of mirrored walls and an empty dance space. Until there's the tiniest of shifts by the rear door leading to the dark corridors and dressing rooms. I feel the blood drain from my face at the same time my hand lashes out, grabs my phone and runs like my ass is on fire. I don't pause to grab my bag and shoes, I don't dare breathe in case it slows me down. Throwing the main exit open, I slam into a tall body. Hands grab me, tearing a scream from my throat .

"Avery? Hey, what's wrong?" Theo gives me a small shake, his messy hair shadowed by streetlamps. My brain works a mile a minute to comprehend what's happening.

"I th...I thought you were," I fight to form a sentence. "Not here. You're not supposed to be here." Realizing he's still holding me, I wrench myself backwards.

"My gig was canceled so I came to see if you wanted to practice some more."

"Practice what?!" Meg screams through the phone in my hand. "Practice how blue Avery can turn if you strangle her?!" Theo's brows furrow, his mouth open but I still take a step away from him. Clinging my phone to my heaving chest, I sidestep around him.

"Avery?" Theo calls after me. "Shall I walk you back?" His desperation to stay close pushes my speed walk into a full-out run. My ankle screams in protest but I don't hold back, keeping Meg on call until I feel I'm a safe enough distance away. I slump behind a tree, my lungs crying out for a break.

"That was weird," I gasp, dropping my head back. Meg grunts in agreement.

"I was seconds from calling the cops. Are you nearly back at your dorm?" Peering at my screen, I bite down on my bottom lip. The outline of my face is dimmed, only reflected by the light of the window in front of me. "Oh shit, Avery. Where the fuck are you?"

"I went on autopilot," I hiss, shrinking down into a ball. "I didn't want to go back to the dorm, Theo might drop by to check I'm there. I'll be fine, trust me." Meg tumbles into a rant about me being untrustworthy right now as I pepper the air with kisses and whisper I love her, before ending the call.

Shoving the phone into my cleavage, I grab the rope ladder and climb the side of the trunk, shimmying along the thick branch Dax once shoved me onto. Reaching for the window, I find it unlocked and sigh in relief. Thankfully, my leotard and tutu allow me to climb inside with all of the finesse of a large feline. Music blares through the house, all of the lights on downstairs. I remain glued to the wall furthest from the railing, creeping past doorways. My hand wraps around a handle and I slip inside without incident, until a pair of chocolate brown eyes land on me.

Huxley stills mid-step, exiting his bathroom. Water drips down his body, from his long wavy hair, down his abs, to the towel held lazily over his dick. Either side, his thighs are thick and firm. The skull planted there, dripping in ink and shadow, seems to scream directly at me.

"Um, hey." I clear my throat, standing straight instead of creeping around like a hunchback. "Can I stay with you tonight?" His face doesn't shift, a long pause causing doubt to fester. Huxley's eyes track my skin-tight pink leotard and settle on my ballet shoes. They're ruined, caked in dirt. Now I'm staring at them too, the bruising around my ankle is starting to deepen, drawing all of my attention to the throbbing pain surrounding it.

"This is becoming quite the habit." Huxley's mouth turns down, but it's not my presence he's frowning at. Winding the towel around his waist and tucking it in place, his strides close the gap between us. Sweeping me off my feet, Huxley holds me close and carries me into the bathroom. I'm dropped onto the counter while he draws a bath.

As he tips bubbles into the swirling water, I watch the tattoo on his back shift in time with the corded muscle underneath. An angel sits central, her dress tattered and head turned downwards. In her hands, a sword lays horizontally, highlighted from the jeweled hilt to glint in all the right places. Her wings are the true masterpiece, sprouting from her back to cover the rest of his. The feathers, black with white tips, are spread wide and etched in such fine detail, I'm convinced I'd feel their softness if I were to reach out and stroke them. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I slip from the countertop. Tentatively brushing my fingertips over Huxley's shoulder blade, he stills.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Little Swan."

"Why not?" I breathe, continuing my exploration. He shudders .

"Because I can't be the first one to fuck you." Spinning, Huxley grabs my ass and hikes me up the length of his body. My thighs rest on his hip bones, our lips almost touching. "I've spoken with the others and we've come to an agreement. There are many things we're willing to sin for, but taking your virginity isn't one of them." My lips pop open, my cheeks flushing.

"What happened to seeking you out if I needed to cum?" I repeat back his words from the ballet studio. His resulting smirk is so cocky, I blush further.

"Is that why you sought me out?" I bite my bottom lip, preferring that reason to the truth. My pianist freaked me out and I ran a mile on a twisted ankle. Huxley takes my silence as an invitation to ravage my mouth, his tongue consuming my argument. His touch sets me on fire, his taste pushing me over the edge of inhibitions. Huxley may have made his agreement, but I've done no such thing.

My fingers sink into his wet hair, pulling him flush against my chest. The lycra of my leotard rubs in all the right places, tightening alongside my core. My nipples press into the fabric, brushing over Huxley's firm chest. He holds me as if I weigh nothing, his hands splayed over my ass and fingers tantalizingly close to my pussy. I roll my hips, hoping to shift his touch closer. In return, his dick tents the towel separating us and Huxley groans into my mouth .

"You're going to be the death of me," he mutters, sinking his face into my neck. Placing me on the edge of the tub, Huxley helps to strip me with the care and desire that contradicts his earlier statement. In the depths of his chocolate eyes, I reckon he is willing to sin for me. Once I'm bared, naked and openly wanting, Huxley lifts me into the bathtub. The water is delightfully warm and smells like him, apple perfuming the air. "Take your time," Huxley presses a kiss to my forehead. I try to reach for him but he's too quick.

"Where are you going?" I whimper like a desperate fool. Whatever happened to avoiding the guys and ignoring my libido just crashed and burned. Huxley palms himself through the towel.

"I'm going to beat my dick into a gym-sock so I don't explode all over you in your sleep tonight." Oh right, the pact against screwing me into next week. Just fucking perfect.

"And who said romance is dead?" I sigh. Once he's fallen asleep, I'll have to hunt for the pink vibrator he is yet to return and do the job myself. Huxley pauses in the doorway, his face growing stoic.

"Do you want me to romance you, Little Swan?" He stares at me so intently, I'm glad half of my face is covered by bubbles. The flush coating my cheeks underneath is something fierce, thanks to the sudden change of atmosphere. I can deal with sexual tension - it's practically second nature to me at this point - but romance? That's another ball game entirely.

The door across the other side opens, Dax stalling mid-step into the room. His blue eyes travel from me in the bathtub, my clothes on the floor, to Huxley turning away whilst squeezing his towel-covered cock. I expect him to do the same, but the longer he stands there, the more I sink into the bubbles.

The others, aside from Wyatt obviously, possess that wild streak which makes me want to tiptoe the edge alongside them. But Dax can't be painted with the same brush. He's sweet, attentive. He meets me for coffee during our breaks, arranges my highlighters so they don't roll onto the floor, duplicates his notes when I miss class. I find myself second guessing laying naked in his tub, worried about changing his impression of me. The silence isn't helping either.

"Vampires, bikers or stalkers?" he finally says after an age. My eyes widen blankly.

"Are we playing fuck, marry, kill while I'm in the bath?" Dax's brow tilts and the ghost of a smirk kisses his full lips.

"No. I'm going to read to you while you're in the tub. Pick your poison." Shifting to lean against the doorframe, the strong set of his jaw becomes more pronounced as he produces a full smile. If I weren't already in water, I'd have melted. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I decide to test Dax's resolve.

"Fae," I raise my chin. He nods and retreats into his room without a trace of hesitation. Just how many romance books does he have in his arsenal?