Page 59 of Soulbound

And he knew in that moment a part of him longed for something more between them.

More than sex. More than longing. Forever, perhaps, if he could dare believe it.

Music whispered against their skin. Sebastian swept her in a slow circle, taking the lead firmly. Cleo's steps were hesitant, as if she wasn't entirely certain what she was doing, but she gave herself into his hands, and somehow it was as if they'd been dancing together for years. Her trust in him echoed his in her. He'd never felt this way before.

How long since he'd looked at someone and known they would never betray him? How many years had passed since that first crippling betrayal from his mother turned his world to a landscape of enemies?

Being free of the sclavus collar had felt like he could breathe for the first time in years, but it wasn't until this moment he realized he hadn't truly been living. He'd merely been putting one wary step in front of the other, trying to work out this new world he'd been thrust into, and keeping the one anchor point he had at arm's length.

Until now.

The heat of her body drew him like a moth to flame as he swirled her in a graceful pirouette. Cleo shot him a delighted smile, her entire face lighting up as they came back together, a breathless laugh escaping her lips.

Not for her a lifetime of wariness. She embraced each moment as if it might be her last, or as if she'd never been burned, when he knew she had. Her bravery made his throat feel dry. In so many ways, she was stronger than he, for she too bore the brunt of years of neglect, and yet she was the one flourishing, when he was barely holding his head above the floodwaters.

And somehow, simply having her in his arms felt like the world opened up before him. An endless proposition of hope, if he only dared take it.

Each step felt effortless, as if he'd been born to do this. Or perhaps, been born for her arms.

What was he doing?

Creating dreams....

But were they her dreams? Or his?

"You dance very well," Cleo whispered, as if she didn't want to break the spell between them.

Her words were like a dash of icy water to his face. His grip on her tightened. "Morgana insisted I learn. My body was always a weapon for her to use, to entice her allies with."

Sympathy flooded through him along the bond they shared. He closed his eyes, feeling the press of her in his arms.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Perhaps it was time to let go of the past?

"I'm not," he admitted, slowly opening his eyes. Cleo's heart-shaped face sprang into being; the center of his world. "For then I wouldn't be here. With you. I wouldn't be able to do this—"

He sent her whirling beneath his arm. Once. Twice. A breathless dervish that swam back into his arms, her skirts wrapping around her legs. A gasp of shocked delight escaped her, lantern light gleaming on the gilded curls that tumbled down her back.

Sebastian smiled. "Nor this."

And he bent her back over his arm, her body wilting like a lily, and his lips devastatingly close to the smooth skin rising from her bodice.

Cleo laughed, trying to return to her upright position, but something in him couldn't step back. Her hands slid up his collar, and then their faces were but an inch apart, and he tugged her tightly against his chest as he slowly drew her upright.

The thrill of her heartbeat seemed to pound in time with his. The music in the distance softened. Or perhaps he was no longer focusing on it, lost in the allure of her rosy lips.

He hadn't dared kiss her since that night at Malachi Gray's.

And the urge to do so was suddenly ferocious.

Cleo's laughter died, her breath catching as if she felt it too.

And Sebastian eddied to a gentle halt, both arms around her waist. The waltz played on in the distance, but he was breathless with wanting her, and intoxicated by the scent of the roses she'd found for him.

"Was your first dance to your liking?" He needed to know.

"It was better than I ever expected."