Page 18 of Run, Starlight (The Royal Ballet Presents #3)

MARCELLA

There’s electricity in the air as we wait backstage for the signal.

The prima ballerina cracks her neck, releasing tension.

She’s not alone here. A monster of a man is beside her.

He’s covered in tattoos with a mean face to anyone who looks her way.

I heard her calling him Diego, which is the name around her neck.

That’s all they talk about, even with the imminent show about to open.

Instead of stretching, they are whispering between themselves, going up on their pointe shoes, trying to get a good look at the couple.

My legs tremble when I think of my stalker and the way he fucked me against the wall.

I was never taken like that before, but I can’t say I don’t like it.

I came so hard, and even now I see the stars behind my eyelids.

The prima ballerina’s man is as tall as my stalker but not as strong.

He’s leaner, his eyes alert and watching everyone’s moves.

My stalker looks like a tank. He’s pure muscle and bigger than anyone I’ve ever seen.

Enzo too. Actually, it’s funny I’m involved with them both when they are easily the biggest men I have ever seen. I wonder if Enzo is big everywhere too.

God, what happened to me?

I lost my virginity when I was still at school, with a guy I liked a little.

I was deep into my grief, but the therapist told me I should do more stuff like a regular teenager.

Prom, sleepovers, boyfriend. I took her advice as if it was a checklist waiting to be miraculously cured once everything was done.

I had sex with him to see if it was going to fix the black hole left in my soul, and it wasn’t a surprise when it didn’t.

Enzo going down on me was the first time I wanted to be intimate with someone, expecting just pleasure.

I didn’t want him to fix me. I didn’t think it was the normal thing to do.

The same happened with my stalker. He walked to my room, and if anything, the right thing to do would be to run away, not have sex with him. But I did, and it was addictive.

The lights flicker three times, letting us know it’s time to go.

I move with the other dancers, avoiding Connor like the plague.

When I arrive at the stage, I assume my position below the soft light.

The silence before the music starts and the curtains open will always be my favorite.

Anticipation runs free through all of us.

That’s something unique I share with every dancer here.

Even the ones I don’t like, even the ones who hate my guts.

We all share this moment and the same goal.

The music starts, my heart speeds, and the heavy red curtains open, triggering their applause. I take a fortifying breath, and I dance with all my soul.

The first act is soft and melodic. It relies on skill and grace.

I love how fast paced and demanding the second act is, but some moments right now are the ones that will forever be in my heart.

The movement makes me feel like I’m floating.

I let myself be soft with a smile on my face.

Dancing is freedom, is being who you have to be at that moment without any fear.

I push myself to perfection even when I’m in the last row of dancers.

It doesn’t matter that I’m not front and center.

I have to be good for me, and not anyone else.

But right as the thought crosses my mind, I feel the weight of a stare, and it’s not the crowd in front of us.

To my right, waiting by the third curtain, is Enzo.

He looks at me in awe, nothing but pride coming from him, and my belly explodes with butterflies.

I dance for him, showing off at every movement, and when the music stops, I practically run to his arms.

“What are you doing here?” I ask breathlessly.

“I had to watch you dance. It was incredible, principessa.” His eyes dart between mine, and I want to kiss him, but I feel shy as the dancers make their way around us to walk backstage.

How does he even have permission to be here? My mouth opens to ask him more questions, but his gaze moves from me to something over my shoulder. I turn around to see what the problem is, but I don’t see anything but the prima ballerina at the other side of the stage.

“Come with me.” He pulls my arm.

I giggle. “I have to get ready for the second act!”

He comes closer to whisper in my ear, “I need to be between your legs. It won’t take long.”

His voice is low and seductive, and I’m wet just thinking about it. I don’t know if he means he wants to eat me out again or fuck me, but if I’m honest, I want both. I want everything.

I let him guide me away. He’s fast, and I have to jog beside him to make it. I guess we are in a hurry. He leads me to a door at the back of the theater, and ushers me to a black car. I take the passenger seat, and he starts driving.

“I don’t want anyone to see us.”

I want to tell him we can’t go far because I don’t have much time, but before the words make it out of my mouth, his hand dives between my legs, under the tulle, pushing the leotard to the side.

“You’re soaked, Marcella,” he breathes out.

I bob my head up and down, unable to speak when he starts fucking me with two fingers.

All my worries disappear from my head. I don’t care about the second act anymore, or the cars passing through.

I throw my head back and hold one hand to the door and the other to my seat.

My hips start moving, helping him and asking for more.

“You’re so beautiful. So perfect. Look at you squeezing my fingers. I need to put another one in. You need to take me, and this is not enough.”

I whimper when he adds the third finger, the heel of his hand pressing over my clit and my pleasure climbs at the same rate as my moans.

I’m loud today, freer than before. I don’t tell Enzo that having sex with my stalker last night made me feel a little more liberated.

I don’t tell him that his fingers sting a little after taking a man that size.

“You’re so greedy today, aren’t you? I wonder why.”

“I want to come,” I say out loud things I never dreamed to say to anyone, yet they come out so easily around him.

“And you’re going to come so pretty, principessa. Around my fingers, my tongue and cock. I’m going to take you and use you every single day for the rest of your life. I’m never going to get tired of coming between those thighs.”

He’s faster, harder, and his words work wonders on me. I’m worried about the forever between us, but I don’t have time to answer. He drives one-handed, sending me glances so hot I’m ready to come over and over again.

“We are almost there. You need to be faster.”

There? Where are we going? Maybe we’re back at the theater, or maybe he just wanted to drive around so people didn’t notice the car parked with a screaming ballerina inside.

Very little makes sense in my head right now.

All I want is to come for him, to take the other things he promised me.

He presses over my clit and it’s finally too much.

I come hard, my eyes squeezing close and a curse flying through my lips.

My toes try to curl, but I'm still wearing my pointes. I’m in full costume, and now that I came, reality sets in.

He parks the car, removing his fingers from my pussy with a sound so depraved I blush.

Lasciviously, he dips the fingers into his mouth and groans, making me sweat in desire all over again.

“You’re too good for me.” I can’t stop the shy smile. “Let’s go.”

I expect to look through the window and find the theater, but it’s a warehouse. I turn around, trying to see what else is out there, but it looks pretty remote. When Enzo circles the car and opens the passenger door, I feel my panic set in.

“What are we doing here? Where are we?”

He lowers to the ground, eyes incredibly dark on me. “I have to show you something important. Can you trust me?”

He offers his hand and I take it, without thinking straight. I don’t know if I trust him, he helped me through a panic attack, but I don’t think that’s enough to establish any kind of relationship. But he smiles at our joined hands, and I forget to be smart .

It’s a warm night, but it feels wrong to be dressed like this anywhere that isn’t the stage.

I ruin my pointes as I crush the gravel beneath my feet, but I follow Enzo wordlessly.

The warehouse looks rusty and abandoned.

I wouldn’t look at it twice if I were passing by; it’s one of those features every big city has, and we barely ever wonder about.

The oversized door stands open, which is more foreboding than a lock.

Enzo leads the way, and I follow him into a massive machining warehouse.

What’s left of the equipment is long abandoned, picked over, rusted, and wasting away.

I gulp when the smell hits me, too pungent to be ignored.

Chemicals fill the air, like someone desperately trying to bleach it clean, but under all that, I can smell layers of decay and rot.

I bring my hand to my nose to stop the assault to my senses.

Enzo looks back at me with an assured smile, unbothered by it at all.

He leads me down a long hallway that reminds me of this horror video game Fabrizio played.

At the end, we find an elevator, we ignore that in favor of the terrifyingly rickety stairs.

The creak as we step up and the sound terrifies me nearly as much as the dark used to.

Enzo notices and he places a hand over my shoulders, his thumb caresses my skin, settling my heart for a minute.

“Nothing bad will ever happen to you,” he says. “Not when you have me. Remember when I told you to be the predator? That wouldn’t fear the darkness if you were?”

I nod, and he takes my chin between his fingers, planting a kiss on my lips. It’s the first time we kissed, and I wish it wasn’t here. It wasn’t this fast.

“Be the predator,” he whispers before we climb the rest of the stairs.

Enzo leads me to a room at the back of the building, where the smell is even stronger and I cough. He squeezes my hand, reassuring me but my head is a mess.

“Enzo…” I say quietly. “We have to go back to the theater.”

We stop in front of a door, he holds my cheeks with both hands and kisses me again.

“You will dance again.”

I don’t have time to ask him what that means before he pushes the door open revealing what is waiting for me.

A man dressed in all dark clothing with tattoos down to his knuckles is standing by a sink, washing his hands of blood. It’s dark and he takes time with the soap, trying to remove the stain off his nails. I gasp, and he looks our way, his face transforming when he looks at me.

It’s him. My stalker.

Enzo pulls me closer, but I step away, too confused to follow him this time.

“Enzo… what did you do?” my stalker says with so much disappointment in his tone.

Beside him is a table with a body stretched over it.

His face is irreconcilable, changed forever by a bullet.

I fall to my knees, the memories, the smell, everything hitting me at once.

When I close my eyes, Fabrizio smiles at me for the last time before putting a bullet in his head and looking exactly like this body.

I hear my own screaming, and I feel arms around me. It’s Enzo.

“Calm down, principessa. Breathe. Embrace the darkness.”

I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I can’t open my eyes because the body will be there, waiting for my reaction. I hear a commotion, steps coming my way. A hand touches me, and I know it’s my stalker.

“Marcella, breathe. Breathe with me. ”

It hurts to follow his instructions and I shake my head. “Why? Why?”

Fat hot tears roll down my eyes and ruin my stage makeup. My knees scrape over the rough floor of the warehouse but I’m far from caring now.

“Why did you bring her here?” my stalker asks, still holding me.

“Because she belongs here. With us.” Enzo replies in a tone I never heard from him.

“There’s a way to do this, Enzo. This wasn’t it.”

“I heard you, Lucky.” Enzo spats. “Protect her from the darkness? She’s darkness like us.”

“She’s innocent!” my stalker screams. “She doesn’t belong here.”

“She belongs to me.” Enzo settles. “And wherever I go, she goes. Now and forever.”

I look from my stalker to Enzo, both of them breathing hard, angry with one another. I’m dizzy, confused, the questions pile over my tongue and begging me to spill them all but my heart is hammering inside my chest and my vision is blurred.

Maybe Enzo is right, because after this, darkness takes me.