Page 31 of Princess Claimed

A waiter appears on the other side of our table. “We have finished dinner service, but I can arrange meals for your party.”

Blade, Flame and Crusher glance toward me, clearly leaving me to answer.

“No need,” I tell the waiter. “We dined before we arrived.” It seems like something a human would say in this situation, and I certainly don’t want to raise suspicions that we’re anything but human.

Phil makes a noise behind me, and I turn. “Did you want to eat, Phil?”

“You call the shots, princess.” His gaze hits mine like a punch to my gut.

I turn away. Phil hates me so much. At first, Phil confused me, but no mystery remains. He detests me. The only mystery is: why do I care?

Blade tips his head toward the dance floor. It’s filling with couples, all moving to a bouncy song I don’t recognize, although it’s clear that most patrons do.

“Want to dance?” Blade asks.

“I don’t know how to dance like that.” As a girl, I was trained in all the styles popular with the European aristocracy, but no one here is dancing in the manner I learned. In recent years at the vampiric palace, many danced in a similar fashion to what I’m seeing here, but while I attended many balls and parties there, I rarely danced. My time was typically filled with formally greeting vampires visiting at court.

“Don’t be shy, darling,” Flame says from the other side of me. “That kind of dancing?” He nods toward the dance floor. “Not much to it. Just let your body move with the music.” His grin flutters inside me, and my body imagines moving alongside Flame’s—but not necessarily to music.

“Let’s all go.” Blade stands, holding his hand out for me.

“Perfect.” Flame jumps up. Moving behind my chair he leans over to whisper next to my ear. “Don’t deny us, darling. You’re the one who wanted a night on the town.”

My grin takes over my entire body, and Flame pulls out my chair as I rise. He’s right. We came here to have fun.

Crusher rises too. “While you dance,” he says, “I’ll get us some drinks.” He turns toward Phil. “Are you going to dance too?”

Phil makes a sound I wish I had a word to describe. His half-laugh, half-grunt is much better than the one that’s fifty percent grunt and one hundred percent malice.

Crusher heads toward a bar at the side of the room, while Blade, Flame and I walk to the dance floor. Phil stays where he is, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s blocking the path between our table and the one behind it, but no one dares ask him to move. Other patrons go around the long way to avoid passing anywhere near the huge man.

Phil’s being rude, but I won’t let his behavior take away from my fun.

The moment we’re on the dance floor, Flame starts to move his feet and hips. His entire body flows fluidly, in a way that makes it clear this is not his first time dancing in this style. I concentrate on the music, trying to catch its rhythm as the strong bass pounds inside me.

I’m glowing inside, admiring Flame’s unbridled abandon and obvious joy. Blade starts to dance too. Less vigorously than Flame, and yet my tall, black lover seems even more skilled in this style of dance. My entire body tingles as Blade’s hips shift and grind in opposition to his upper body. He’s so uninhibited.

“There you go,” Blade says with a grin, and I realize I started moving without even thinking about it. Turning toward one of them, then the other, I let my body choose its movements. Dancing in this manner feels great, so freeing, and far more natural than I could have imagined.

“This is way more fun than a Viennese Waltz.” I recall a dance I enjoyed as a child. “Even more fun than a Mazurka.”

“If you’d like,” Flame takes my hand, “I can spin you around like a Viennese Waltz.”

Taking my hands, Flame turns us to the right, and we spin in a circle. My chiffon skirt flies up around me, creating a fresh breeze on my legs—and between them. I resist the urge to break our hand hold to check that my skirts aren’t flying too high. There are too many layers of chiffon for that, and I’m not sure I care.

From behind, hands land on my waist, stopping the spin. “My turn.”

Flame grins as he releases my hands, and Blade turns my body toward his.

Leaving his hands on my waist, Blade spins me too, then he lifts me, continuing to turn us around, even as I’m raised above his head, my skirt pooling over his chest.

When Blade sets me down, I’m back with Flame, and the two men pass me back and forth between them, as I twirl like I did as a very young girl. I can’t remember when I last felt so happy, so free.

The music changes to something with a slower, deeper, more sensual beat. I stop twirling.

Flame moves behind me, as Blade takes my hands and lifts them between us. He sways our joined arms in time to the music as Flame’s hands slide around my waist and his body moves closer to mine, pressing against me and moving us in tandem.

My heart swells with happiness. When I asked for a night out, I imagined going for a walk through a park, a city street, simply somewhere above ground. This party has exceeded my expectations and the warmth and sexual energy surrounding me, pouring into me, makes me feel like Blade, Flame and I are the only people in the room, on the planet.

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