Chapter 44

"Gods, Jess, you've danced the wind out of me!"

Fern and Toren and Jorah and I collapsed down onto a nearby bench after dancing through one long, rambling song that seemed to bleed into another, then another. We were all sucking in breaths and… smiling, which felt good, so very good. So when Jorah's thigh pressed into mine as he sat close, his arm going behind me to clasp the back of the bench, I leaned into it. I wanted more: more of that pleasure, more of that lightness that seemed to flare brighter when the big wolf shifter stared down at me. His lips twitched into a slow smile, as if he sensed everything I was feeling.

Princess Jessalyn wouldn't have met his gaze boldly. She wouldn't have smiled right back. She wouldn't have leaned in closer, just to watch the sparks of interest catch fire in his eyes, but right now, I was Jess and that alternative identity allowed me to do things I normally wouldn't.

"I thought wolf shifter males were known for their stamina," I said with a smirk just as his faded.

"They are." His lips twitched, wanting to smile as he bent closer but failing to. He seemed far too intent on tracing the shape of my mouth with his eyes to do so. Just as he moved further in and started to broach my personal space, a deafening crash pulled the attention of all four of us behind us.

A wooden chair had been reduced to kindling, the shattered remains littering the ground where it'd been thrown. Arik, Roan, and Silas all gripped Creed's shirt as he stood there, chest heaving, staring at us, but just as I was feeling a pang of guilt, Fern shook her head at me.

"Ignore him," she advised, though many others weren't. Older members of the community had stepped between me and my guard, talking fast but firmly to the male as he stared past them at me. "My brother has forgotten the ways of our ancestors. It comes from forming a pack with humans." Her nose wrinkled. "Hopefully, they're better where you come from, Jess, but Kheanian humans are terrible creatures. Arrogant and filled with overweening pride, yet fragile as small children."

"But…"

As I stared at the shards of wood, my first impulse was to feel responsible for the chair's destruction, then I abruptly shoved that thought away.

"The elders will see to him," Fern assured me.

"You needn't worry about some male that can't even control himself," Jorah said, smiling when my attention returned to him. "A beautiful woman like you deserves a male that knows exactly what he's doing. One that can hold himself back until just the right moment…"

My heart had already been beating fast in my ears, but the thunder of it seemed to deepen as I stared into Jorah's eyes. He didn't explicitly say what he meant, but I was willing to bet we both had the same mental image. Of the two of us in a bed, the beautifully decorated leathers he was wearing tossed to the side before his fingers went to the buttons at the neck of my dress. The fabric would caress my skin as it fell away, only to be replaced by his hands. And that image raised so many questions.

Would it feel as good as the red-hazed moments I'd shared with my guards? Was it the drug that had set alight the fire in my blood, or was I capable of feeling the same with any man? These were important questions that I suddenly felt needed to be answered, but before I could reply, some angry shouts marked the moment when Arik and his pack were escorted from the dining hall.

The expressions on their faces were stark. Even at a distance, I could see Arik's hard look. His blue eyes sparkled like chips of ice, though they seemed twice as cold. Then there was the grim line of his mouth, growing thinner by the minute, but when they were told to go, they went, allowing me to dismiss them from my attention and return it to eyes the colour of the forest. Jorah smirked when he saw he had my focus again.

"I think first you need to show me you can keep up with me."

I stood up and grabbed a tankard of watered wine that had been poured for me, drinking deeply from the cup, then setting it down before rejoining the throng. People didn't seem to be slowing down for a second, and the musicians still played furiously, laughing at having everyone in the hall up and dancing. I actually didn't care too much if the male joined me. My hands went to my skirts, hiking them up disgracefully and then swirling into the mass. People danced away to let me in deeper, though a shout from Jorah let me know I had someone on my tail.

Which had me looking over my shoulder and grinning as I moved further into the crowd.

But I discovered the error of my ways as I found myself stumbling into an open space in the middle, people all around shouting and whooping the minute I regained my balance, with Jorah joining me moments later.

"We have a challenger!"

The fiddle player shouted this out as all the other musicians stopped playing.

"A challenger…?" I said.

"Hang on, hang on!" Fern appeared by my shoulder. "Jess is an outlander. She doesn't understand our ways."

"Oh, I don't know." Jorah looked me up and down. "The way she was moving before made it seemed like she's learned that devilry you single women use on the dance floor real well."

"A challenge! A challenge!" the crowd shouted. Men, women, even children, seemed to think that something was afoot.

"What the hell is a challenge?" I hissed at Fern, wondering what I'd gotten myself into this time.

"Single men and women can put themselves forward, or step into the ring as a couple to show their prowess at dancing."

"Prowess?" I stared into her eyes. "What prowess? I've barely learned the steps you use here."

"There are no steps to learn." She smiled as she stared into my eyes, willing me to understand. "That's not what we do. I know human women of noble birth are forced to attend classes like they're at school, learn dances like we might dates and events of history, but that's not what this is." She grinned as she looked over at Jorah, who had turned to the crowd, stirring them up with his words and gestures. "It's a form of flirting."

"Flirting!" My eyes whipped around the crowd. "Should you be encouraging me to flirt with a man who isn't your brother?"

"My brother doesn't own you." Her smile faded and something far more real rose in its place. "Just because he claims you're his fated mate means nothing until you feel it too. And Jorah…" She nodded in his direction. "He's a good sort. Unless one of the girls here is lying, his fated mate lives somewhere else because he hasn't set his cap for anyone. He's a safe bet if you want to just have some fun."

"Some fun…"

Why was that such a foreign concept? Why did I long for it and fear it in the same breath? I glanced back at Jorah, and it was his expression that sealed his fate. He glowed with a kind of golden brilliance in the lamp lights, that arrogant twist of his lips triggering quite a different response in me.

"So I must challenge him?" I asked. "How?"

She chuckled as her friends clustered closer.

"The woman sets the tone," one said.

"Perform a little dance that will blow his mind and have his wick stiffening," said another.

"Get him dancing to your tune," Fern added with a nod. "That's how it works here, what my brother has forgotten. Women decide whether to accept a bond, not the males. And if he needs a reminder…"

But I didn't see Creed right now. Jorahs arms crossed his chest, his eyebrow cocking in pure insolence as he regarded me steadily. Gods, I was sure I knew how this worked now. The music picked up again as my hands went to my hips, my body jerking in one direction then another, marking the beat of the drum, but it was the way that arrogance faded, replaced by something far hungrier, that spurred me on.

I strode forward, my legs following the curling trill of the penny whistle, but right as he went to meet me, I spun around and stalked away. My hips twitched, an exaggerated version of a woman's swaying walk, and by the shouts of the crowd, Jorah followed my every movement. Before I could get far, a hand slapped down on my arm.

I was spun around again just as he had done so often tonight, but it felt different this time. The crowd was a roaring, laughing blur as I was brought decisively back into his orbit. Right when he thought he had me in hand, I twisted free of his grip. For a second, I just sucked in a breath, my chest heaving as the need to run rode me, but the deepest part of me would never allow me to turn tail like that. I danced back as my eyes narrowed, clearly showing that I would neither play along nor be let myself be led. Good natured abuse and catcalls landed on Jorah's shoulders, which he bore with a smile. He shrugged and then held out a hand, making clear that he was offering now, not trying to take.

It wasn't hard to see another in his place. No make that four others. To see blue eyes or amber, hazel or green, staring into mine as the offer was made. But they hadn't asked, hadn't offered, and that was likely the larger part of why I accepted Jorah's hand now. The crowd cheered as my palm slapped against his, his fingers closing around mine like a steel trap as he brought me closer.

Because I'd made the decision about where I wanted to be, the press of his body, the sway of it against mine, was a good thing rather than an imposition. This time when we moved, we did so together. Was it still a challenge? If it was, I wondered who had won and who had lost. I didn't know, nor did I care. In Jorah's arms I was comfortable, relaxed even… I let out a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of my soul right before he sent me spinning out again, though not too far. I had his hand to cling to as I felt the dizzying sensation of the whole world swirling around me, but he was there anchoring me.

Finally, he spun me back and the crowd roared as my hands slapped down on his leather breastplate, but it was all just background noise as I stared into Jorah's eyes. Those hazel depths looked as if they possessed a world of mischief, and part of me wanted to find out why. The fiddler seemed to think whatever challenge I'd posed was resolved and called for others to step forward as Jorah pulled me with him out of the crowd.

"That was great fun," he said, not letting go of me for a second. "But Mother Marian made clear to all of us that we mustn't allow you to tire yourself out."

"Too late," I gasped, feeling the throb in my head for the first time.

"Well, then I'll need to escort you home, if that's all right with you?"

Choices, more choices, each one far more seductive than anything else he could've told me.

"I'd appreciate that, Master Jorah," I said, placing my hand on his muscular forearm.