Page 32 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
Kestra had barely described Feral. She certainly hadn’t mentioned the strange, compelling magnetism of his presence.
“Dance?” Mai said, breathless. “I—yes. Honored. I’m—it would be a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is mine, I promise you.” Feral caught her hand and led her toward the center of the room, where couples were bowing and swaying, undulating and gliding through the slow, sinuous moves of a dance. Now and then all of them would stop and freeze, perfectly posed, for a second or two, before they began moving again.
“I don’t know this dance,” Mai whispered.
“I’ll guide you. Trust me.” Feral’s scarred mouth twisted in a smile, and she saw that one of his eyeteeth was a slightly different color—a replacement, maybe, for one he had lost. Flay always said that most ships’ captains lost something during their voyages.
“Palm to palm with me,” Feral said, pressing his hands to hers. “Arch and sway, duck under my arm—just so. Now your hands above your head, like this—and freeze.”
They both paused. Mai’s arm was entwined with Feral’s, her body hovering close to his massive chest. She lifted her lashes to find him looking down at her from his own locked position.
“This dance is about suspended desire,” he said, low and rough, as the movement began again. “The nearness of two bodies that long to touch, but are forbidden from doing so—at least for a moment.”
During that frozen moment Mai had felt vaguely awkward, but there had been no suspension of desire. She shrugged, and Feral’s eyes narrowed. Perhaps he was used to women reacting to him immediately.
“Tell me about your work,” he said. “You’re designing a new hand for my limbless froglet of a brother?”
Mai frowned at the disrespect for Flay, but she supposed it was normal for older brothers to say such things. “Yes, I’m working on a few different designs. But I lack the supplies and the technical expertise to craft the parts myself. I plan to spend most of my time in Stragnoag at the university, studying in the library and hopefully using some of the laboratories and workshops.”
“Ah yes. My father funds the university. It’s a pet project of my mother’s—or it was, once.”
“And where is your mother? I haven’t seen her.”
“She’ll be along later. Always late to these things.” Feral’s harsh features took on a harder cast for instant, but the expression was gone so quickly Mai thought she might have imagined it. “What sort of supplies and assistance do you need?” he asked. “I can ensure that you receive it.”
“Do you mean that?” Mai’s heart leaped. Flay had promised to send a letter with her, so she could hand it in at the university and be granted full access to everything she desired; but so far, no letter was forthcoming. Having the additional backing of his powerful older brother couldn’t hurt. She didn’t have to approve of Feral to take advantage of his position and its perks.
Of all the things she most longed for, knowledge was paramount. There was nothing too precious to be sacrificed for its gain.
“I have influence I’d be happy to exert on your behalf.” Feral whirled her around before they posed again. This time their bodies were aligned even more closely. With the difference in their heights, his hips were on a level with her waist, and his huge bicep was a breath away from her lips. She could smell his warm skin—a spicy fragrance with a dark twist she couldn’t identify. Probably a bottle of scent he’d picked up during his travels.
Perhaps it was the conversation, his interest in her work, his promise of help and influence—but she felt her limbs softening, her mind going watery. A trickle of excitement raced through her belly and chest, and she felt the faintest quiver of sensation between her legs.
This was the feeling Kestra had mentioned. Lust—or love? Sexual attraction, at the very least. And forFeral, of all people.
Mai wanted to flee before the feeling got any worse. She stepped back, but her legs wobbled. Feral caught her in both his massive hands, steadying her.
“The dancing can be—intense,” he murmured, with a slow smile.
Mai felt as though moths had been trapped in her veins, under her ribcage, and were fluttering there, whispering wicked secrets. Lazily Feral swept his broad hands upward along her arms, his hooded gaze trapping hers.
The delicate tickling sensation between her legs intensified.
She could not pull away. Perhaps shewasthe moth, and he the flame.
“I think you need a drink,” Feral crooned, one hand sliding down the length of her arm, all the way to her wrist, and then her fingers. “Come with me, little scientist.”
Feral drew her toward a row of servants standing along the wall of the ballroom. Not servants, she realized, as she inspected them more closely. They were slaves, scantily clad in white strips of cloth, their bodies every shade from pearly white to bronze to deep umber. Some were male, others female, and some she couldn’t be sure. All were beautiful, their faces and bodies gleaming with paint and oil. They stood motionless as statues, holding trays of drinks and platters of refreshments.
Feral took two cups from one of the trays and handed one to Mai.
“I don’t drink often,” she said, peering at the ruby liquid.
“But you cannot refuse this,” he said. “I chose this wine myself—brought it here from a faraway land bursting with the most luscious fruits and the most crisp, delicious grapes. Have a taste.”
He took a sip and mouthed the swallow of wine while Mai drank cautiously from her cup. The liquid was rich, with a sharp initial bite and deep flavors rolling over her tongue.
