Shalador's Lady

into brainless puppies, forgetting most of what they had learned so they ended up bouncing along with the older boys. And more than a few of them stopped dancing altogether to wave at their mothers, which caused tangles as the boys still dancing tried to move around unplanned obstacles.
    Despite Shira’s earlier assurance that drummers dropped out of the music, Cassidy felt embarrassed that she’d lost the rhythm after so many weeks of practice. Then the Boys’ Dance gave way to the Youths’ Dance, and Reyhana lost all ability to drum because she was laughing so hard at Janos’s antics. Hearing other bursts of laughter followed by a stumble in the beat, Cassidy suddenly understood that perfection wasn’t expected during this joyous celebration. So she watched Janos and laughed with Reyhana.
    He performed the steps exactly as he should, but Cassidy learned a great deal about attitude. Most of the young men who were within a year or two of making the Offering and being considered adults were fiercely serious as they performed the dance. Janos gave the steps a lightheartedness, making fun of himself and the others who were on the cusp of manhood.
    Cassidy felt more than heard Shira’s sigh of relief and understood the feeling even while she laughed. Janos knew there were lines he couldn’t cross, and he’d done what he could to keep himself—and Reyhana—from temptation.
    The Youths stepped out of the circle as they brought over the last group of dancers. The adult men walked in a quiet circle as all but the lead drummer once again went silent.
    “Well done, Janos,” Cassidy said. Then she noticed Reyhana vanishing her drum and stool. “Aren’t you staying to see the last dance?”
    The two youngsters gave her startled looks.
    “No, Lady,” Janos finally said. “We’re meeting some friends at The Lady’s Pleasure. Then we’ll go back to my grandfather’s house for the night.”
    *Don’t ask,* Shira said as she vanished her smaller drum and called in the large drum, settling it between her thighs.
    One by one the drummers joined the lead drummer, and The Dance once more filled with sound.
    Noticing how many people were leaving, Cassidy leaned toward Shira. “Why aren’t they staying?”
    “The Fire Dance isn’t for children.” Shira began drumming.

    Gray circled with the rest of the men, letting their bodies shield him from Cassie’s view.
    His life, his dreams . . . everything came down to this dance.
    Ranon was on his left, but on his right, the side closest to the fire . . . a shadow. Primal. Lethal. Seductive.
    You ran from me once, something whispered. I can’t give you now what was lost then. But I can give you the rest if you’re ready to accept it. Will you run from me again? Or will you embrace the fire?
    Who are you?
    You know.
    A brush of heat against his right arm. A shivery awareness of what he still could claim for himself.
    The man. The Warlord Prince.
    Yes, I know who you are, Gray thought. You are Jared Blaed.
    Will you run from me again?
    Gray caught a glimpse of Cassie’s fiery hair and felt a hunger for more than sex—and knew how to get everything he wanted.
    No, I won’t run from you again. This time, I’ll take everything you can give me.

    Cassidy didn’t catch the signal, but moments after the last child left the park, the dance began.
    Clothes vanished with the first thumped step, and looking at a circle of men who wore nothing but their Jewels and their pride, she understood why the Fire Dance wasn’t witnessed by children.
    Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful!
    Shadows and fire. Hard bodies glistening with sweat as they performed that hot, grinding dance.
    She caught sight of Ranon and almost slid off her stool. Then she glanced at Shira and saw the same fierce glitter in those dark eyes. The Black Widow no longer played the drum as music. The beat, the sound, became a challenge, female to male, and every move and thrust of the dance was Ranon’s answer to that challenge.
    Then she looked at the man dancing next to Ranon, looked into a familiar face that held the glittering green eyes of a stranger.
    A dangerous stranger.
    “Gray,” she whispered.

    As he performed each turn and thrust of the dance, the shadow clung like a second skin—primal, lethal, seductive. Then it became his skin, filling him with a wild heat.
    And then, as he looked into Cassie’s eyes, it became him.

    Ranon and Gray moved on with the other dancers,