Darling - K. Ancrum Page 0,60

bones instead of blasting her ear drums.

Fyodor gazed down at Wendy.

Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed for a while, turning it around for her to see, because it was entirely too loud to talk.

You deserve at least one dance.

Wendy looked up to check the mezzanine, to see if Peter was watching them angrily, but Fyodor gently turned her chin back to him.

The music was a punchy rap song, more pop than gritty poetry. The people next to them were jumping up and down with the beat. The strobes enhanced the angles of Fyodor’s face, burning an afterglow behind his silhouette as he towered over her.

Fyodor reached out, but paused and jerked his chin at her as if to ask permission. Wendy answered his nod and allowed him to gently take both of her hands and place them on his shoulders. Then he reached a large solid arm behind her back and began to sway her gently to the beat. With a disorienting thrill, Wendy realized they were slow dancing.

Fyodor kept his right hand on the dip of her spine, not taking advantage even when she stumbled; she wasn’t used to moving this way. His left hand was tucked behind his back with almost military formality. Wendy couldn’t help but watch their feet, focusing on not stepping on his shoes. She realized with flustered hysteria that Minsu had been lying about Fyodor dancing like a scarecrow in a wind tunnel. He had been lying a lot. Fyodor was graceful and so skilled that he managed to find the slower beat in the music, turning them both effortlessly as if this was a ballroom and not a warehouse rave at all.

Fyodor stepped closer, until Wendy could feel the heat of his body, and it was nothing like being close to Peter. Fyodor smelled alive: a little like cigarettes, a little like the pomade he had in his blond hair, a little like deodorant, and a little like the metallic tang of panic-sweat that forms on people who have been on edge for entirely too long. No heady flowers, no smoke that reminded her of a house fire, no magic and starlight, just a flesh and blood kid, who moved her out of the way of a flailing dancer—bringing his left hand up fast to block Wendy from getting smacked in the back of the head.

Fyodor flicked his eyes over at the guy who clearly had too much to drink and grinned as if to say, At least he’s having a good time. He began to drop his arm to tuck it behind his back again, but Wendy caught his hand on the way down and threaded her fingers between his. Fyodor’s eyebrows knit in apprehension but smoothed as Wendy moved more confidently now. He squeezed her fingers and shifted into a middle-school-slow-dance style of rocking back and forth. He grinned.

Wendy took the bait, scowling as he dumbed down his waltz style for her. Fyodor grinned wider at Wendy’s pettiness, and for some reason seeing the imperfection of his gaping, childish smile and the shadow of a pimple on his forehead filled Wendy’s chest with warmth.

Fyodor lifted their conjoined hands and gave her shoulder a nudge. Wendy spun without thinking, and Fyodor caught her with ease, swinging her back into the gentle rhythm. A few of the people nearest them moved away to give them room, with confused and interested glances.

Fyodor chanced a look up at the mezzanine, and Wendy followed his gaze. Peter and Curly were looking down at them, and the expression on Peter’s face was what Wendy could only describe as gently furious. Fyodor stepped back from Wendy. The sudden gap left her cold as air rushed in between them.

Fyodor spun them twice and then finished with his back to Peter, blocking Wendy from Peter’s prying gaze.

It will be okay, Fyodor mouthed over the music, nodding resolutely.

It will be okay, he repeated, then he cupped Wendy’s cheek in his large palm and pressed their foreheads together. They weren’t dancing anymore, just standing still in the middle of the dance floor.

Wendy arched up closer and closed her eyes.

Her heart tripped over itself as she stood in the circle of Fyodor’s arms, with the bridge of his nose just grazing hers. She leaned up even closer for a kiss, but Fyodor pulled back.

He shook his head and pulled out his phone again at Wendy’s crestfallen expression.

you have been through too much tonight. It would be taking advantage

Then