Page 42 of The Midnight Frequency

I didn’t see the annoyance or horror I was used to seeing from a man when I was having an emotional reaction to something. All I saw in Silas’s face was understanding.

“How is that song lost?” I asked as I blotted at the tear that slipped past my lashes.

“It seems as though nothing is truly lost. I’m only angry I never thought to look for a warlock to unearth it for me before. Now, I remember it well enough to play it.”

“You play the cello?”

“Not yet.”

A little laugh escaped me at that as I passed his handkerchief back. “Is it strange?”

“Is what strange?”

“Knowing you always have time. To read all the books. To hear all the music. To experience all the things. And, yeah, learn to play cello?”

“It was for a while. You become accustomed to anything if given enough time.”

“Um, so… why was Maggs crying?” Tess asked.

She’d appeared out of nowhere, suddenly standing between Silas and me as if ready to act as a demonic shield if she didn’t get the answer she wanted.

“It’s nothing,” I insisted.

“Granted, I’ve caught you crying over surprise puppy presents at Christmas. But if those are sad tears, I swear on the fire in my veins that I will—”

“The magic in here let me hear a very beautiful piece of music,” I cut her off.

“What? That’s it? Music? I left that hot lion shifter for… music?”

With a shake of her head, she wandered off again.

I took another sip of my drink as my music shifted, seeming to sense a deeper internal wish. For something slow and sensual. A song meant for bodies pressed close, for whispered secrets, and shared desires.

“Do you dance?” I asked.

Then there was a hand in front of me, making me jerk back.

My gaze flicked up to his, finding an expectant look in his eye.

“When I come from, when a lady asks you to dance, you dance.”

Okay.

He was totally right; there were definitely some things from the old days that beat modern customs.

I put down my drink and placed my hand in his and let him lead me out to the dance floor.

“What’s that smile for?” Silas asked as he turned me to face him.

“I was just thinking how common it was for men from your time to dance, but how rare it is now.”

“Your suitors haven’t taken you dancing?” he asked as his hand went to my hip.

It took actual effort not to swoon at the touch as his palm slid around my lower back, then traced slightly up my spine until he found the place he was seeking.

“I think the only time I slow danced with a guy was in school when they forced us to take dancing lessons for gym class.”

“That’s a shame.”