Blaze stands, holding a hand out to me. “Dance with me?”

“Oh, I’m good,” I reply, self-conscious on so many levels. 

“Come on, Princess. One dance. It’ll be fun, and it might distract you from worrying.”

I scan the dance floor, cataloging every couple who sways and undulates to the beat. No one’s openly fucking, which is reassuring, so I put my hand in his and let Blaze pull me into the fray. 

He spins me before pulling me flush against his body, his large hand splayed across my back, the other holding mine. We sway with the music, our cheeks centimeters away from touching, the heat of our bodies mingling. When his neck skims the column of my throat, a shiver skitters down my spine, leaving little sparks of electricity in its wake. A deep sense of rightness floods my body, and I melt into him. It’s instinctual, primal, and being in his arms wipes away all rational thought. 

Neither of us speak, too caught up in the music and how our bodies react to one another. Every time Blaze touches me or moves his hand, energy and magic tingle across my skin. The sensation is heady, and I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. 

His initial touch may be the spark that kindles something in me, but every subsequent caress stokes it. Soon I’m fighting the urge to push this man into a private room and do bad things to him. 

I’ve got two fateds making their way to me right now, and here I am fantasizing about fucking a mage I’ve only known a few hours. 

The only thing that keeps me from pushing out of Blaze’s arms is the expression of confusion he can’t hide. I don’t think this is some seduction game he plays with women on the regular, and the curious looks of his friend Parker back up my suspicions. 

There are dozens of couples dancing around us, but we might as well be enclosed in a bubble. Every time someone gets close, they let out a yelp of discomfort and move back. It’s gotta be Blaze’s doing, but I’m not convinced it’s purposeful. 

When the song switches to something slow and driving, my body responds in kind, grinding against Blaze like we’re the only two in the room. He watches me with a heady mixture of fascination and hunger. More pleasurable currents of electricity dance up my stomach and back when he slides his palms under the hem of my shirt and skims them along my skin. 

Blaze leans down until our noses are touching, his lips tantalizingly close. “What are you doing to me?”