“I’m all right. It’s just that they were all staring.” She looked at him hopefully, searching his chiseled features for any sign of understanding. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
From his quizzical look, he didn’t. “It is natural that they stare. I am a sea dragon. Dry-landers cannot help but marvel at my presence.” His matter-of-fact tone made the words a simple statement of truth rather than a boast.
Neridia wrapped her arms around herself, hunching her shoulders in the habitual, futile attempt to make herself look smaller. “Well, I hate it.”
His oceanic eyes darkened. “I am sorry. Yet again, I am the cause of your distress. It was I that attracted the unwanted scrutiny.” He sighed, looking away from her. “Even after nearly two years on land, I still cannot fit in.”
She peeked up at him, drawn to that strong, noble profile with a hunger that scared her. It was more than just appreciation for his physical looks. Something about him, some vital essence, pulled her to him as if she was caught in a riptide.
This is ridiculous, she tried to tell herself. I know practically nothing about this man, and everything I do know just highlights that we have nothing in common. For pity’s sake, every word out of his mouth makes it clear that we’re from completely different worlds!
And yet, and yet…
“I will never fit in here.” His voice was so soft she could barely hear him over the sound of the band striking up a sprightly tune. He was still looking away. “I must go.”
“Must you?” She felt as if she balanced on the edge of a cliff, looking down into a gleaming, beckoning sea; a reckless inner voice whispering jump, jump even as common sense held her back.
He met her eyes again at last, and the naked longing in his took her breath away as surely as water closing over her head.
“I should,” he whispered.
Th
ey stared at each other, yearning, yet separated by a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.
Out of the corner of her eye, Neridia noticed an elegant, middle-aged woman with ebony-black skin staring in their direction as she whirled past. Abruptly, she broke away from the other dancers, striding with firm steps straight toward them.
“Rose,” her abandoned partner called, a note of warning in his voice.
The woman took no notice of him. She had the wisest eyes Neridia had ever seen, calm and kind in her soft face. Neridia found herself unable to resist as the woman took hold of her left wrist in one hand, and John’s in the other.
A shock went through Neridia as the woman closed John’s calloused fingers over hers, and she felt his swift, sharp intake of breath. Without pausing, the woman moved the two of them into a ballroom hold, as briskly as if positioning a couple of mannequins.
“There,” the woman said, stepping back and surveying her handiwork with satisfaction. “That’s better.”
Without another word, she went back to her previous partner, grabbing his hands. The two were quickly swept up again in the swift, energetic dance circle.
Her hand clasped in his, and his broad shoulder under her palm…it was like an electrical circuit had been completed. Neridia found that she couldn’t let go again. She didn’t want to let go again. Not ever again.
His long fingers tightened on her waist fractionally. She could feel the strength in his grip, and how carefully he controlled it, and how his hand trembled as he pulled her closer. She could feel the heat radiating from him, warming her to the core. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, perfectly echoing her own.
“What are we doing?” he whispered, his breath soft against her ear.
“I think we’re dancing.” Neridia wasn’t quite sure when they had started, but they were definitely swaying gently, in such perfect unison that it wasn’t clear who was leading and who was following.
She felt more than heard the noise he made, a deep rumble of longing that vibrated in her own chest. “When a sea dragon meets his mate, they dance. Circling ever closer, twining together, in the heart of the sea.”
They were spinning now, circling around a point between their two bodies. “Like this?”
“Like this.”
Neridia closed her eyes, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. She felt weightless, his strong hands bearing her up as if she floated on the surface of the ocean, gently rocked by the waves.
“Neridia,“ he murmured, his musical voice turning her name into a melody of longing edged with discordant pain. “We must-“
“Shh.” She tightened her fingers on his. “Let me pretend to be a sea dragon, just for one dance. Just while the music still plays.”
All the breath sighed out of him, ruffling her hair. “Just one dance,” he agreed, softly.