She glanced down, staring at the puckered scars running down her forearms. She didn’t even bother to cover them up, but there was no doubt that she no longer felt beautiful the way she once did.
Dance used to make her feel beautiful, but something had changed.
She didn’t dance to soar, anymore. She danced because she was a scratched record on a turntable, stuck repeating herself over and over because there was nothing more to her than the things her father had raised her to be. She was just wobbling along, singing the same song, dancing the same dance, waiting for someone to lift the needle and shatter her for good.
“I like … what you see,” she managed. “I … wish it was true.”
“Hmm.” His finger suddenly appeared beneath her chin, lifting her face delicately until she was forced to meet his eyes again. “When is your next appointment with the bond specialist?”
“This afternoon. It’s usually on Thursdays, but—”
“The Day of Consolidation is tomorrow,” he finished for her. “And then we break for the summer. Is she going to come up with a plan for how to keep the bond stable over the summer break?”
Isobel nodded, forcing his finger to drop, but his eyes stayed fixed on hers, his stare narrowed and unblinking, his attention making the hairs along her arms stand on end.
“Good,” he grunted, straightening away from her. “You should ask to continue your sessions with her over the break. Phone or video meetings.”
She blinked at him, but he was already striding for the door.
13
Baby
“It still isn’t working,” Gabriel muttered, watching as her arms fell limp to her sides, the song over the speakers fading into silence before restarting. “Dance with Elijah.”
Elijah was sitting there quietly, considering her with that same hard stare that hadn’t shifted from his face since they had left the chapel an hour ago.
“Not this again.” She sighed, switching her attention back to Gabriel. “Professor Lye didn’t say it had to be a partner dance for the final assessment.”
“And yet the point of the assessment is to apply for his third-year class, which is a class specialising in partner work,” Gabriel returned. “Why don’t you give it a try? What’s the harm?”
She glanced between them, realising they both had that sharp, assessing stare. This was another special “Reed and Spade” test, but she didn’t feel like being assessed anymore. If they thought they saw something they didn’t like, then that ugliness was bound to grow in gruesome power the deeper they looked.
The truth wasn’t pretty.
The truth was so unsettling that she didn’t even want to admit it to herself.
She walked over to the door and flicked off the light, and then strode to the windows, drawing the heavy curtains until the room was doused in darkness. It had turned into a miserable day, so there wasn’t much light to sneak in around the fabric.
She felt better like this.
Like she was in one of Kalen’s climbing sessions. Terrified, but sure that she would never fall, because each time she had climbed with that blindfold stealing her vision over the past few weeks, he had guided her safely back to the ground. She had never stumbled.
And this way … the difference between her and Elijah wouldn’t be as glaring. There would be no witnesses to just how broken and scarred she looked beside someone like him. She walked back to the Alphas, finding them with ease since the blinking lights from the audio panels were right above them.
“Pick a song,” she muttered, snatching up her phone and thrusting it out to where Elijah and Gabriel still sat, unflinching, barely even showing a hint of curiosity over her strange actions.
Elijah leaned forward, scrolling through her phone for a moment, the light from her screen illuminating his perfect, impeccable features.
He tapped on something, and she tossed it back to the shelf, only catching a glimpse of a song called “Baby” before it started booming over the speakers. Elijah held out a hand to her, barely visible in the darkness, and she hesitated for a moment.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t dance with Elijah.
Maybe she should just …
He caught her hand, pulling her into his body with a tight yank, just as the first heavy thump of the song vibrated along the floor.
“Just let go,” he murmured, so softly she almost missed it. “Forget about how you look, how you feel. Just follow my lead for three minutes. You can do anything for three minutes.”
He moved her slowly, gripping her shoulders and twisting her torso, bending her back and then stroking up along her spine, drawing her up and into his body. He flicked up her arm and she turned to watch the shadowed limb drop back to her side, her instincts kicking in just in time to make sure the fall was graceful and weightless.
Even in the dark, she could see the hesitation in her movements.
He shifted his leg between hers, his foot brushing the inside of hers, making her step where he wanted her to step. At first, his movements were slow and deliberate, the pressure of his hands firm, but as she loosened up and followed the suggestion of his touches, he used less pressure, until even the slightest shift in his posture managed to move her one way or another. He guided her with his hands, his legs, his feet, his weight and size, bending her and twisting her until she felt like she was made of rippling silk. Her only purpose to decorate his body as he created slow, beautiful choreography seemingly on the spot.
She might have floated away if he wasn’t bending her over his thigh, his fingers trailing over the front of her shirt, skirting the bumps of the chain embedded into her skin.
For the briefest second, her doubts came crashing back.
Perfect, impeccable Elijah. And her. A Sigma with scars like ladders up her arms and a foreign chain hooked into her skin that could turn her into a monster at any second.
But then he was pulling her up and his knuckles brushed beneath her palms, her arms obeying the unspoken command to move into a new position, and she lost herself to the dance again, her focus narrowing on his cues, her attention straining in the dark to follow his lead.
It only took a quick flick of his wrist to send her into another dip, and this time she let her whole body unfurl, her arms stretching up above her head as he pressed her into the arc. The second the pressure of his fingers against her stomach eased, she pulled up, searching for his hands again, closing her eyes as he transitioned her into a series of crisscrossing, intertwining steps that had a huge smile breaking over her face as her heartbeat thudded, marvelling at how perfectly he managed to move them both.
He spun her, but it wasn’t a big flourish, only a chance for her to twirl back into his body like a magnet, his hands already raised to catch hers … except he didn’t catch her. He didn’t grab her. He didn’t grip her. He held out his hands and her fingers brushed lightly against his palms as he guided her.
He was conducting her.
She was the one who pressed closer, looking for his next leading touch, his next guiding step, moulding her body to his to try and anticipate him better until she could even feel the uneven breaths that rattled his chest.
His movements became more complicated, but her body only obeyed with more ease, allowing him to lift her, to toss her just enough that his grip was able to switch rapidly from her waist to her thighs. She tightened all her muscles to keep her balance as he spun her around, before he tossed her again, spinning her this time, catching her just as perfectly, his hands cinching her waist as her back landed against his chest.