Page 34 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

Draven raises both eyebrows in surprise.

“I don’t know how to dance,” I repeat, futilely trying to pull against Draven’s grip while he continues moving us farther out onto the dance floor. “I don’t know what to do.”

He might be used to attending fancy balls in the Ice Palace with the empress and emperor and all of his powerful friends, but I have never been in a situation where ballroom dancing was even remotely relevant. I’ve been gutting fish and trying to start a rebellion all my life, for Mabona’s sake!

My stomach lurches as Draven at last pulls us to a halt and spins me around so that I’m facing him. I look up, expecting to see a cruel smirk on his face, and wait for his mocking words.

To my surprise, none of it comes.

“That’s alright,” he says. And though there is a small and highly amused smile on his mouth, there is nothing mocking about it. “I do. So all you need to do is to follow my lead.”

A jolt shoots through me as he suddenly places a hand on my waist and pulls me closer. While my brain is trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts that flashed through it, Draven moves one of my hands to his shoulder and then takes the other in his free one. And then he starts us into the dance. I can’t even hear the music we’re dancing to because my heart is beating so loudly.

“Consider this practice,” Draven says.

His voice cuts through the noise in my brain, and I finally manage to compose myself. The rest of the room comes back into focus. Thousands of candles burn in the glittering chandeliers, the light sparkling against the shimmering walls and the vaulted ceiling. The shifters in the corner are playing their instruments, creating music that is somehow both dramatic and heart-wrenching at the same time. And other dragon shifters, who are wearing clothes in the color of their respective clans, are swirling across the shining floor alongside us.

I meet Draven’s eyes. The light from the candles makes it look like the gold in his eyes is coated with smoldering fire. The sight is so intense that I almost forget that he spoke earlier.

With enormous effort, I manage to get my mind back on track.

“Practice for what?” I reply.

A smirk curves his lips. “Obeying my commands without question.”

I draw my eyebrows down in a scowl. Shooting him a look full of challenge, I try to pull back and stop moving in the direction he is taking me.

However, the moment I stop following his lead, I stumble in the wrong direction and almost crash into another dancing couple. The two people, who look to be from the Blue Dragon Clan, glare at me.

Draven uses that moment to pull me back to him. Since I wasn’t ready for it, I slam right into his firm chest. I swear I can practically feel the sharp ridges of his abs even through our clothes. My cheeks flush a little, and I quickly put some distance between us again.

With that smirk still on his face, Draven tightens his grip on my waist and then moves us into the dance again. And since I really don’t know how to dance, I’m forced to admit that I have to follow his lead right now if I don’t want to make a fool of myself.

“See?” Draven says, amusement lacing his tone. “Great practice.”

“Mabona’s tits, you’re such an asshole,” I mutter.

“Yes, I am.” He fixes me with a pointed look. “However, very few people dare to say that to my face.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

“You expected me not to be?”

Remaining silent for a few seconds, I study him while we continue dancing. He keeps his eyes locked firmly on mine, but still never misses a single step.

“I’m not sure what I expected you to be,” I answer at last.

He seems almost surprised by the honesty. Holding my gaze, he looks at me as if he’s trying to read answers in my soul. Or maybe to make me read answers in his.

My heart clenches, and everything suddenly feels too intense. Toointimate.

I quickly break eye contact and instead busy myself with looking anywhere but his face. My gaze drops down his body.And I blink in surprise, noticing for the first time what he’s actually wearing.

Ever since he ambushed me in the corridor earlier, I’ve been too preoccupied with everything else. His intense eyes. The knife he held to my throat. The very likely possibility that I was going to make a fool of myself on the dance floor. The feeling of his hand on my waist. All of it has taken up so much of my attention that I haven’t even noticed what he’s wearing. But now that I have, I can’t stop staring at it.

For the first time ever, he’s not wearing that black dragon scale armor. Instead, he is dressed in some kind of black formal wear.

I stare at his clothes, my mouth slightly open, before shifting my stunned gaze back up to his face. “What the hell are you wearing?”

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