Page 86 of Unravelled
Tharion looked away, distracted by something across the room. But when his eyes returned to hers, they held a trace of reluctant agreement. A slight nod confirmed his acceptance.
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As Mira and Tharion approached the dance floor, she felt the familiar pulse of music, soft, sweeping notes that filled the air. She extended her hand to him. He took it without words, his grip warm but unsteady. For a moment, they simply stood there, an uncomfortable stillness settling over them. Then, Tharion led her into the waltz.
Their feet found the rhythm together, moving in practiced arcs. The music swelled around them, creating a quiet sanctuary despite the crowded floor. But Tharion, ever the picture of control, missed a beat. The smooth, confident rhythm of his dancing gave way to faltering steps, as if his body had forgotten. Mira adjusted instinctively, matching his hesitations as best she could. Still, she felt the struggle in him with every shift, every stumble.
His gaze wandered, out of focus, scanning the crowd around them. Each flicker of attention that left her tightened the knot forming in her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above the music. “For storming off. I shouldn’t have.”
Tharion didn’t respond. His grip didn’t tighten. His eyes didn’t flick to hers. Mira kept her gaze on his shoulder, pretending it didn’t hurt. “I think I made the wrong choice before” she said quietly, more to herself now than to him. “I want to help. You. Ren. All of it. I just… I need you to let me.”
His hand tightened around hers, but only for a brief moment before once again his gaze slipped away, his shoulders tense. They collided with another dancing couple. The graceful movement of their steps shifted abruptly as skirts and trousers brushed against each other. Mira’s eyes widened in surprise, and she instinctively pulled back a step.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her voice soft with genuine regret. But the couple they had disturbed barely glanced their way, lost in their own dance. Their smiles and quiet laughter dismissing the interruption as nothing more than a fleeting misstep in the night.
Mira turned to Tharion, her brows knitting with concern. “Are you okay?” He didn’t respond. His gaze was somewhere far off, trapped behind his own storm-clouded eyes. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his sleeve. “Tharion? Are you okay?”
His head snapped toward her, the sharpness in his expression catching her off guard. “He’s blinded to what this is doing to him”. He bit out, the words raw and unpolished, scraping against the air between them.
Mira blinked “Tharion…”
Before she could say more, his hand found hers again, rough yet deliberate, pulling her back into the waltz. The music swelled around them. His steps were precise, a little too fast. He spun her, the world blurring around her in a sweep of soft lights and murmured laughter. His fingers slipped away, the ghost of his touch vanishing as he melted into the crowd.
Mira stumbled, unmoored, the room a sea of whirling couples and shifting shadows. Strong arms around her waist caught her. Ren’s face came into focus, his expression a raw canvas of yearning. His arms tightened around her, not just to steady her but to claim. Without a word, he pulled her into another waltz, their bodies finding the rhythm. They moved together, as if by memory.
His breath ghosted over her temple as he leaned down, his lips brushing the air just above her ear. She felt him inhale, the warmth of his breath threading through the strands of her hair.
"Mira..." he murmured, her name slipping from his lips like a secret.
Her pulse quickened, the sound of her name on his tongue both an anchor and a current, pulling her towards Ren. Her breath hitched, heat flashing through her like wildfire. For one suspended second, the world narrowed to the space between them. Just them.
Clarity struck her, hard and unforgiving. Mira shoved him back, the movement sharp and sudden, instinct more than thought. The force of it surprised them both. His hand shot out, fingers curling around her arm, firm but not painful. His expression flashed with confusion and desperation, but before either of them could speak, a voice boomed over the music.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lord Asric’s voice rang out from the front of the hall.
The hum of conversation died down, every gaze redirected. Mira’s eyes snapped to the dais, the gilded platform where Asric stood. Ren didn’t let go. He moved behind her, pulling her back against his chest. His arm slid around her waist, the warmth of his palm flattening against her. His other hand rose, gentle but unyielding, fingers brushing against the curve of her hip. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath hot against the skin of her neck.
Her body betrayed her, a shiver running through her despite the layers of silk and lace between them. She liked the way his presence enveloped her. The intensity of his hold of her, how her body seemed to mold against his as if they were carved from the same stone. It felt dangerous and familiar all at once.
Asric spread his arms wide, grinning. “You all know I have never been one for bonding, but pleasure? Secrets? Now I do appreciate.” Soft laughter rippled through the crowd, goblets raised in amusement.
Ren exhaled against her neck, his lips brushing skin. Mira’s breath came in shallow pulls, her fingers curling around Ren's arm.
Asric continued “And tonight, I have procured something very...special.” Lord Asric's voice unfurled through the hall, smooth as velvet and just as dark. As his arm swept in a grand gesture, hundreds of small, light with a pop, glimmering flames lined the walls, their light waltzing with the shadows.
Mira didn't recognise the scent. Spiced, warm and heady. It curled around her senses, a whisper of something forbidden. She inhaled again, and the scent deepened, unfurling in her mind like smoke. It was like desire made tangible, soft and consuming.
Asric's gaze landed on directly on her and Ren as he announced “Emberbane Candles, for your enjoyment and your deniability."
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Her stomach dropped. Mira had heard of these before. Candles not merely for ambiance, but alchemical wonders designed to erode the edges of control. The smoke was slow burning, threading through the senses, lowering inhibitions, peeling back layers of propriety, and leaving nothing but raw, unvarnished truth.
Ren groaned softly against her ear, his lips brushing her skin. It was rough, a rasp that slid through her like silk over a blade. Mira’s breath hitched, the realization crashing into her with brutal clarity. The fluttering in her chest, the warmth of Ren’s arms around her, the pulse of need that hummed beneath her skin.It was undeniably her desire intensified, drawn out by the Emberbane’s pull. Yet unmistakably her own.
Each inhale of the spiced, sweet air chipped away at her restraint, fanning the embers of her desire into a flame. Her gaze darted around the hall. What had been a refined, elegant gathering was rapidly descending into chaos and debauchery. People whispered secrets between touches, fingers slipping beneath the folds of skirts, hands tracing skin in darkened corners. Eyes half-lidded, mouths parted, movements fluid and languid as if the entire room were submerged in warm water.
