Page 37 of To Dance with Death

“Touching,” he says. “But though Moranya has granted me power over this dominion, she has not allowed me to reunite loved ones. Souls must find their way back to one another themselves; such are the laws of this place. I cannot help you.”

“The codices state a soul’s lodgings.” She’s close now—far too close for his liking. “Permit me to stay and search for her here myself.”

“Then what? Will you stay here? Give up your mortal life and exist among the dead?” He shakes his head. For all he wouldn’t mind her company, he doesn’t think it right to condemn her to this fate so early on. “You will have an eternity here soon enough. I will return you to the mortal world. Finish out your life. It is likely shorter than you think.” With that, he reaches for her arm—

“I’ll dance for you,” she blurts out.

He freezes mid-swallow. Almost chokes. “Come again?”

“On the condition that you let me stay,” she says, that tantalizing hip jutting just so. “Each evening, I will dance for you.”

A dancer. Really? She’s a Fates-damned dancer. He can’t help the crawl of his gaze, the way he runs it over her slip of a frame. The divot of her waist. The curve of her thighs…His imagination swings into action—

He scrubs a hand over his face.No.

Maybe?

She misinterprets his silence. “I am offended at your skepticism, Sire.”

That glare could cut glass.

“You…don’t exactly seem light on your feet,” he says. He saw her attempt to run.

A flush paints her cheeks, flaring brighter. Is that a temper he detects? Oh,pleaselet it be a temper.

“The choice is yours,Sire.” That last word—she draws it out as if in mock salute. “Accept my offer or turn me away.” Idly, her fingers dip to her throat and down farther, to her tunic, but she drops her hand when she sees him looking.

“You have yet to see my parties. They would scandalize you.”

“Because you think I’m innocent?”

“Are you not?” he asks, folding his arms—irresistibly amused now.

“I don’t feel compelled to answer that, Sire. Are you rejecting my offer?”

“Many of my souls dance.”

“Not the way I do.”

His brows rise of their own accord. “How so?”

She folds her arms, mimicking his stance. “You’ll have to see for yourself.”

Fiery, haughty little thing. He drags a thumb across his chin. “They called you Vastianna. Back in Sadira’s palace. Yes?”

“They did.”

It doesn’t escape him that she evaded his questions about how she got in. This is likely still some ploy by his former friends, and yet his curiosity is insatiable now.

He narrows the final distance between them, so close she’s but a breath away. Admittedly, he hopes to unsettle her right back. Rouse her even more.

“All right, then, Vastianna,” he says finally. He stretches a finger out, trails it down the line of her delicate throat. “You will dance for me every night during my evening soirées until I tire of you. Inreturn, I will keep up your ruse of blending in. If the souls discover you are a mortal, it will cause quite the stir. Not to mention, they’ll likely find ways to torment you.”

She swallows beneath his touch. “And Moranya. Will she find out?”

“Should that happen, I would be the one to deal with that headache,” he says.

“You said she would turn me tosoulsludgeif she knew I was here.”