Page 2 of Twilight Echoes (A New Dawn #7)

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D arrell Hughes sat in the back of the auditorium. A vision of loveliness promenaded across the stage in a pair of nude tights, pink pointe shoes with matching leg warmers, and a white leotard with spaghetti straps crisscrossing in the back. He’d been waiting a lifetime to claim his mate, and Lady Avery Windsor wasn’t just any mate.

She’d been visiting him in his dreams for as long as he could remember. Not only was she beautiful with her long light-brown hair, dazzling blue eyes, and legs that reached for the sky. But she had a style and grace. She was poised beyond her years. Whenever she gave an interview—whether it be as a ballerina or as a member of the royal witch family—she did so with a dose of humility that always humbled him.

And she was kind and genuine. Always giving back to the community.

It was difficult for him to believe that the universe had chosen someone of her caliber to be his mate.

He winced as she favored her right knee, doing a basic grand pas de chat. Most people wouldn’t notice the slight deflection, but his seasoned eye had seen more than one ballerina a performance away from the end.

Not to mention the ache that twisted in his joints. If he hadn’t been dealing with this slow, debilitating pain for the last couple of years, he might believe he was suffering from sympathy pains.

But this was something more.

He’d seen a doctor years before the startling discovery with his pack, and they had no answers. They couldn’t see anything wrong with him, but it was one of the many reasons he’d switched from dancer to choreographer.

And, of course, there was the witch doctor.

That had been interesting—and devastating—all in one session.

Tucking his hair behind his ears, he shifted in his seat. He’d imprinted on her when she’d been only five years old. He’d been eleven and her partner for the audition that would change her life. She’d been so much younger than everyone else in her class, but she’d been a natural and all the girls resented her talent, something he understood.

Leaving his mark on her and then having to walk away had been one of the most challenging things he’d ever done. But he’d been a child. He hadn’t even come of age. Yet he’d felt the connection to her heart as if they were beating as one. And now, seeing her again, it wouldn’t take much for them to mate.

An intense gaze.

A tender embrace.

A passionate kiss.

However, he wanted to find a way to slow down that process. He needed to figure out what was wrong with him and deal with that before she connected to him in a way that bound them together forever.

She did a few turns and a leap.

He was mesmerized by her grace and beauty. Everything about her made him want to jump on that stage and declare his affection.

But that would have to wait.

She had a real knack for picking up the steps with perfect technique and very little correction. He knew back then, as did everyone, that she would be a principal dancer.

He’d landed his first significant role as one of the youngest prodigies in a local ballet shortly after their dance, but he’d left his heart with Avery the day he walked out of the studio.

Yanking his wallet from his back pocket, he pulled out the picture of him and Avery that her technique teacher had taken that fateful year.

He knew Avery would be the love of his life, but he needed her father to save him and his pack from whatever curse or spell had caused his father’s sudden death and what would undoubtedly be his demise.

Holding his breath, he blinked a few times. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. His family needed him to find the source of the illness that threatened to wipe out every male in his pack.

“Stop the music,” he said as he stood and made his way down the aisle, gently placing the image back where it belonged. The cast of dancers came to a slow halt. They exchanged confused glances as they stepped to the side.

All except Avery.

She stood at the center with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. A piece of auburn hair fell from her bun. She pursed her lips and blew it to the side. “I’m sorry. May I ask, who are you?” She held a hand over her squinted eyes from the lights shining down in her face.

Talk about a loaded question. “Darrell, the new choreographer,” he said, contemplating his next move. The call had come three weeks ago, asking him to take over, and he’d jumped at the chance. He loved being behind the scenes. Not that he didn’t love dancing, because he lived for it. Only he preferred to see his visions come to life. There was no bigger rush than to sit back and watch the movement of bodies across the stage while music echoed off the walls, telling a story that broke your heart into a million pieces.

However, he’d taken the job because Avery was the principal ballerina.

The time had come to meet his mate.

And stop the curse, if that was even possible.

“Darrell? As in Darrell Hughes?” one of the dancers asked with such excitement it made his cheeks flush. In all the years he’d been on the stage, he never understood why anyone made a fuss of him.

Whispers erupted from everyone in the background.

He ignored them. “Where’s Olivia?”

Avery opened her mouth, but the sound of hard pointe shoes flattened on the stage filled the air.

“I’m right here,” a young girl said, skidding to a stop next to Avery. “Oh my God. It’s such an honor to meet you.” She waved her hand in front of her face and batted her long lashes.

“I want you to try part of this number from the double cabriole to the relevé in fifth,” Darrell said.

“Excuse me?” Avery shifted her weight to her stronger leg. “I don’t mean to question you right out of the gate. I really don’t. But we’ve only got five more days before we perform live. I need the practice.”

“So does your understudy. Just in case.” He arched a brow. “And I’d like a minute to talk with you.”

“May I ask about what?” She shot her hip to the side, planting her hand firmly on her tiny waist.

Always so polite in front of the other dancers. God, how he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

There was a time and place for everything, and this was not that time or place. Besides, mating could happen anywhere. All she needed to do was accept him and choose to stand with him and they would forever be part of each other. “Places everyone,” he said, eyeing her bandaged knee. The right sported a thin layer of tape, as did her ankle. She wouldn’t be able to wear those during performances. “Join me in the audience.”

“All right.” Avery ducked backstage for a second and returned with a towel. As she took the steps into the audience, she dabbed her forehead.

Olivia, an eighteen-year-old with a lot of talent but in desperate need of a bit of maturity and a little more dedication, would soon be taking over as principal dancer. A fact that Avery had to know was inevitable.

Better to leave gracefully versus being pushed out.

He sat ten rows back and watched as Olivia began the piece, impressed by her excitement.

But she was no Avery.

“We were not told we’d have a new choreographer, much less the great Darrell Hughes.” Avery settled herself in a seat two over from his, her towel draped over the back of her neck. “What happened to Brandon?”

Darrell had asked the ballet company's board not to tell the dancers about his arrival, which meant no one knew Brandon had cancer—not yet anyway, but that wasn’t his story to tell. “He’s coming in at the end of rehearsal today to talk to everyone.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Avery said, glancing between the young ballerina on the stage and him. “And neither does you pulling me from rehearsal. I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of turn, but Olivia does one run-through a day, not random stuff in the middle.”

“Things will be done differently with me in charge, and I hope, being principal, you’ll help with the transition.”

“Is that why you brought me down here?”

He couldn’t come right out and tell her she was his fated mate. That would be insanity. A trip down memory lane would be a good start as long as it didn’t push her into accepting him as her mate.

He handed her the image of them dancing, wishing he had more than one snapshot. They had performed flawlessly in front of her class. The other students he’d done the same routine with didn’t have that special something that she had.

Still had.

“Oh my God,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning upward, lighting up the room. “I can’t believe you kept that, much less even remember me.” She blinked, her thick eyelashes fluttering over her light-cobalt eyes. Tiny specks of fairy dust flickered from her lashes.

She waved her hand as if she were swatting a fly.

He had no idea she was a fairy. He filed that information in the back of his brain.

“You remember our dance?” he asked as his heart swelled with pride. Now that they were adults, the attraction kicked in as if he were a horny teenager. But he was a man, and he could control his animal instincts.

He hoped.

“Like it was yesterday.” She turned her attention to him. “But I’m surprised you do. I was five years old. I was just a little girl. A baby. And you were already headed off for greatness.”

“So were you.” He winked. It was impossible for him not to flirt with this vision of beauty.

His mate.

The creature he was destined to be with for all eternity.

If he lived long enough to enjoy the concept.

“I’m stunned.” She smiled, staring at the image. “You left the studio shortly after that, but I watched your career as both a dancer and a choreographer. You made me believe I’d be a star.”

“I always knew you would be,” he said, biting back a smile. He’d never wanted to be in the spotlight, but he was smart enough to know that if he wanted to make it as a choreographer, he needed to spend a few years onstage.

Avery enjoyed the spotlight, so hanging up the pointe shoes would be a major adjustment, but she could do other kinds of performances that would keep her passion for the art stronger than ever.

“Dancing with you that day sealed my fate. I remember feeling like I was floating on air. But you made all the girls look as good.”

His breath hitched. Could she possibly know? He didn’t see how unless maybe she sensed something, but there was no way she could possibly feel the deep connection he had.

Not yet anyway.

But she will, and he prayed he wouldn’t have to break her heart by dying.

More fairy dust flowed from her fingers. She wiggled them, as if to call the stuff back to her body.

He stared at it. Back then, fairies were a mere myth.

Interesting.

“No. You were something special. It was a privilege for me to be paired with you that day.” He leaned closer. “It was you who made me look good.”

“I thought I loved to dance before that day, but when the music stopped and you left, I knew I was meant to be a ballerina.” Her enthusiasm coated the sound of her voice like warm butter melting in all the nooks and crannies of an English muffin.

“I’ve enjoyed watching your career. You are so incredibly talented,” he admitted, stretching his arm over the back of one of the chairs between them, wishing she were closer. “And I do look forward to working with you.”

“Why do I sense a but coming?” When she handed him the picture back, he took advantage of the opportunity to touch her soft, velvety skin.

The fairy dust circled his wrist and settled into his pores. It eased the pain in his joints, making him feel young and vibrant again.

He’d yearned for this moment for so many years.

If she sensed it, perhaps she already knew. But he wasn’t sure he could take that risk. Not sitting in the audience during rehearsal. He held her hand, fanning his thumb over her soft skin, staring into her orbs of desire.

It was rare that imprinting happened before a wolf came of age. When it did happen, it was usually because it meant something important. Or the universe just knew. Whatever the case, imprinting was only part of the process. She needed to accept him. Which meant she needed to claim him in her own way. From there, mating could either be instant or a dance that took a little time. He wanted time. But that was for selfish reasons.

His pack was dying.

He was dying.

She fanned her hand across her face. It was as if she were trying to hide the fact she was emitting fairy dust.

That was cute.

“I see the bandages, and I noticed you favoring your one leg.” He tapped her knee.

“It’s nothing more than overuse. I’m simply taking precautions.” She rubbed her thigh. “I don’t like taking any medications, and I certainly don’t use witchcraft to deal with these kinds of ailments. I’ll be ready. You can count on me.”

“I don’t doubt that. Or your ability and talent, but you’re not getting any younger.” He squeezed her shoulder.

She jerked her head. “Are you suggesting I’m old?”

“No.” He chuckled. “But we all know the career span of a principal dancer is short. Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do next?” He waved his hand toward the stage as his dancers moved with the music, and her understudy fumbled through the choreography. “You can’t do that forever. You may have one or two more years before your age starts to become a factor. Take it from me, going out when you’re on top is best. Having a plan is even better.”

Avery stared at the stage. Her gaze followed Olivia. “She’s good. She has talent. Her technique isn’t the worst, but it needs honing. She’s certainly eager to please you. But she lacks refinement. She’s often sloppy during rehearsal.”

“Because she’s your understudy.” Darrell tapped Avery’s knee. “When was the last time you were in that position?”

“I was sixteen and Gwen was…” Avery’s words trailed off.

“Gwen was twenty-six. She was struggling with an injury from the year before and even if she didn’t have that bad ankle, she should have retired. You came in after she fell and took her place. Gwen never returned. She felt disgraced and the worst part is she never had a plan for herself moving forward. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

“I’m not injured,” Avery said softly.

“I didn’t say you were. And you’re still at the top of your game. You know it. Everyone else on that stage knows it too, including Olivia. Why would she need to prove herself to anyone when she has no chance? She’s wondering if her career is over before it started.” Darrell arched a brow.

“Are you suggesting I step down simply to give her a shot?”

“Good Lord, no. At least not for the duration of this year’s ballet.” He lowered his chin. “Have you ever considered being a choreographer?”

“I teach some classes at the old studio,” she admitted. “I enjoy working with young students. And yes, that thought has crossed my mind. But this conversation is a few years too premature.”

“It’s never too early to start planning for your future.” The music faded. He stood, taking her hand. “I’d like for you to spend more time working with Olivia.”

“That’s not my responsibility. Or my job. Much less my role.”

“Maybe not.” He tugged her toward the stage. “But this ballet is now under my guidance, and I expect you to put in a few hours with her every day. I want you to help her become a better dancer.”

Avery stopped dead in her tracks, turned, and glared. “So she can replace me?”

“No one can replace you, Avery. You’ve been the principal dancer for this ballet for over seven years. And you will remain so for the rest of this show. If you choose, next year even. But after that, we both know your days are numbered and frankly, so are Olivia’s. Every ballerina has to face that fact.” He glanced at his watch. “We have one more hour left. I’m going to ask that you take Olivia into the small room and go over the solo parts with her. She’s sloppy. And I think if you spend time with her, it will only help you.”

“All right.” Avery let out a long breath. “I will do as you ask.”

“After rehearsal, could you meet me in the choreographer’s office? I have something of a personal matter I need to discuss with you.”

“Sure.” She raced back onstage and looped her arm over Olivia’s shoulders.

Darrell smiled. His mate was something special. Now all he had to do was not die.