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Ronin maneuvered them through the crowded space. Smoke curled in the air, sticking in Naia’s hair as they traveled through layers of the herbal, woody scent.

The closer Ronin brought her to the stage, the more rambunctious those around them became. Strangers bumped into her from the side, from behind, twirling their arms, smiles leaping over their faces, each dancing to the catchy rhythm of the song.

Ronin lightly tugged her forward on her feet, pulling her in front of him and spinning her in a circle. She caught a brief glimpse of a genuine smile on his face—displaying his teeth, plumping his cheeks, and squishing his eyes. The sight made her insides pulse, as if she’d swallowed a flicker of candlelight.

He released her hand, and the current of people carried her. Her body moved with memory, falling into sync with the music. Laughter bubbled out of her as she shook her hips and swayed her arms.

If things ended terribly, this moment would have made it all worth it.

Naia wasn’t sure how long she danced. When the band transitioned into another song, she was compelled to seek Ronin out.

He stood off to the side of the dance floor, arms crossed, content watching her from afar.

She squeezed through the bodies to get to him.

“Come on!” She tugged on his sleeve, laughing when he stared at her with his usual easy-going expression, making no move to follow her. If only he knew how easily she could beat his stubborn strength and yank him out onto the floor with her. “Please?”

“Naia, I hate dancing,” he stated in a deadpan tone.

A tremor quivered through her chest hearing him call her by her name.

She feigned sulking, jutting out her bottom lip. “Come on. One dance.”

A long second passed and the stern set of his lips loosened.

He rolled his eyes. “Fucking fine, but just one.”

She gave a victorious squeal and hauled him out onto the floor.

When Ronin had asked what her favorite type of music was, she’d thought of the time she’d listened to music on a radio back when they were first invented. Vex had brought one from the Mortal Land, and she’d found him, alone, listening to it in the garden.

It was a testament to how far she’d come. Once crouching in the bushes to hear the music playing from the distance, to spinning around with the sound flooding her ears. It was a dream come true to have someone to share such a sentimental moment with.

Ronin twirled her around in circles, tripping over her feet. Deep-bellied laughter spewed out of her as she took the lead and guided him on how to twist his hips.

The deep bloom of the trombone, the smooth heartbeat of the percussion, reverberated in her blood.

Forever a small, glistening moment.

11

THE BLOOD HERETICS

“This is our pilsner.” Violet tapped on the laminated cover above the lever with her pink polished fingernail. “It’s the most common, especially around brunch, because it’s light.”

Naia slid the brewery’s glass underneath the spout. Hesitantly, she gripped the wooden lever. “And you pull this down to fill it?”

Violet gave her a broad smile and an affirmative head nod. “Yep! You’ve got it.”

The brewery was hardly busy on a Monday, which was the sole reason Naia conjured up enough courage to step out of her comfort zone and volunteer to help when she’d arrived in the early dawn hours with Ronin.

His excuse was meetings. He was sluggish and barely awake the entire drive as he chugged his coffee. It did not go unnoticed to her how he became livelier after the caffeine entered his bloodstream, asking her if she slept well, or if she had a good time at the jazz bar he’d taken her to.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the night as she worked behind the counter with Violet. The dancing, the music, how freeing it felt to move her body. It had been such a fun night that Naia had forgotten about the potential threats of Marina and Solaris finding her. Even worse, her primary task at locating Finnian had gone mute.

Ronin’s hands on her waist had consumed her thoughts, the hem of her tank top riding up and his fingers twitching against her skin. The flush of his cheeks as she guided him on how to dance, and the begrudging expression he wore when she laughed at him for stepping on her toes.

Ronin Kahale was clumsy, and she enjoyed every second of seeing that side of?—