AU for _deadlydance_, set immediately after "The Price"

[birthrightgreen]

She wasn't nervous. She had nothing to be nervous about. It wasn't like it was a romantic evening. They'd just worked so hard on the case, working to catch the rabid witch who'd been slaughtering innocent males. And they had, with Jaenelle's help. Now Jaenelle and Daemon were back on their honeymoon and she...

She was here in Amdarh, back how she had been, nursing the bruises Falonar had left. So, why, exactly was she changing her dress? The one she had on was perfectly acceptable. She was going out dancing with a friend. She could use a friend right now. What she couldn't use was a male thinking he was just going to sweep in and carry her off.

Not that he was probably thinking that, but she was suspicious.

He was a male, and years of seeing them abused by her own sex still hadn't made her trust them as a gender. Then again, she didn't trust most people.

With a growl at herself, she finally settled on a black dress with enough slink to impress and a enough swirl to make a statement on the dance floor, no matter how elegant and formal. Hair pinned half up, the rest left down. If people stared at her ears, so be it.

She was ready. It was going to be fun. She kept repeating that. Fun. With a friend.

Just a friend. He wasn't expecting anything. He wouldn't be that foolish.

She just wished she knew what he wanted.

Comments

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"For a change of pace," Rainier echoed, signaling the orchestra's conductor. His extended presence at the dance hall over the part years guaranteed he could dictate the entire evening's program instead if he was so inclined.

Instead, he chose a single dance.

Daemon may own a few of the Court Dances.

But the tango was his.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She gasped slightly, just the smallest intake of breath as she moved into his arms. The frame they made, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him.

A tilt of her chin, half-challenging. It was a seductive dance, breathtaking if performed properly.

But it was neither gentle, nor friendly.

It was her favorite.

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It was not a subtle dance.

Instead, it was a study in contrast. A soft his of breath, the rough pull of bodies against one another. Only to seperate again. And although he had seen, and danced it otherwise? It was a dance that spoke to the complementary diffrences between female and male.

This was not just a dance.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

It had to be timed perfectly to work, the pushes, the pulls, turns that could so easily become slaps if not stopped, violence simmering underneath the grace.

It was a perfect allegory for the Blood.

She let him lead, but she fought for control, keeping space, then letting him pull her against him, eyes not leaving his for a moment.

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Rainier pulled Surreal against him from shoulder to knee as one hand stroked the length of her arm in a lingering caress.

And then on the next push, it changed. For a brief moment he yielded, giving her the opportunity to take point, and control of him.

He watched her. Waited for what Surreal would do.

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Her fingers tightened on his slightly for balance as she stepped over, weaving between his legs, back and forth, hips twisting.

She brushed against him with a slight smile.

One foot slid up his leg, hooking around his waist as she leaned in.

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For once Rainier was still, his breath a thin hiss between clenched teeth. And perfectly willing to let Surreal take the lead again in the future.

In the future.

Pressed together once more, and then apart, there was a dip that brought her dangerously close to the floor.

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Her hand tightened on his shoulder, sliding around to the back of his neck, fingers resting against skin as she let him dip her back. She went with the movement.

A momentary surrender.

Breath catching, she was there, suspended until he pulled her back up.

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He held her.

The music held for him.

And slowly, inch by inch, Rainier pulled Surreal back into both his arms.

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She stilled when she was standing, one hand still on his neck, the other in his hand. She'd had misconceptions since watching his dance with Daemon.

They'd slid away a bit over the past couple of weeks. After learning what else he instructed young males with.

They'd never be lovers. Her body was mocking her calm certaintly of the afternoon, tension coiling through her stomach, poised, just. Waiting.

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With one foot Rainier traced a circle on the floor. Then another step, and another circle. The tango would fail so miserabley between two partners because it demanded that two bodies act as one.

And yet still remain individual. The push and pull had to remain. It was where the dance was born. Surreal, so far, had matched him step for step. Gentled by a slow in the tempo, Rainier forced hhis blood to cool as his arms encircled Surreal.

It was a gentle embrace. There was space.

The knowledge that she could pull free at anytime, sent through touch. Not mind or words.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

The space gave her room to breathe. A blink to reorient, frame firming again, that little defiant lift of her chin.

The hand on his neck slid back to his shoulder, a lingering touch that reestablished the boundaries. Palm to shoulder. She didn't pull away, but the tension back in her arms kept him at a distance.

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With a smile Rainier freed one hand and tucked it under Surreal's chin, lifting the tilt of it that much higher.

He liked it even more than her laugh.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

Her eyes widened in surprise at the touch, then narrowed slightly, searching his eyes for any sign that he was mocking her.

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His smile held, an easy pleasure there.

The dance was over, too.

"Would you like some air," he offered. "Something to drink?"

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

"A drink would be...lovely, and some air," she said with a smile, letting suspicions ease back.

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Summoning two glasses of wine, Rainier took hold of them both, and allowed himself the pleasure of handing Surreal her glass personally, before leading her out onto a small terrace.

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She called her wrap in, sliding it around her shoulders when they stepped outside. "Thank you." She sipped at the wine, taking his arm again, looking out over the city below.

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Rainier almost pointed out that he would have gotten it for her, and happily. But a woman who tilts her chin like that didn't need his assistance with such things. All the time.

Perhaps just every other one?

He could wait until he was needed, he decided. Perhaps as soon as for a second glass of wine.

"You are welcome."

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

"I'm having a good time," she told him with a smile, glancing up at him. "Far better than the quiet evening I'd envisione."

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Rainier took a small sip of his own wine, thoughtful.

"I thought I was not interupting any plans?"

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She chuckled. "No plans, sugar. Just me and a hot bath and bed for a week. This is better."

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"An entire week?" There was a sliver of concern in his voice. "Are you that drained?

[birthrightgreen.livejournal.com]

She started to snarl, checked the urge. She hadn't meant to exhibit a weakness.

"Just a thought, sugar." She sipped her wine, eyeing him over the rim. "I don't think I'd be keeping up with you on that dancfloor if I was drained."

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Rainier made a decided effort to let the moment pass, and accepted her compliment of sorts.

"I haven't danced like that in a long while."