The Last Warrior (Shifters Unbound #13) - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,30

draped the necklace across her chest, his fingers warm as he fastened the catch. He turned her around again, studying her with flattering intensity. “Perfect.”

Rhianne tried not to wilt in too much pleasure—at the gift, his touch, his admiring gaze. She kept her knees from bending and managed to thank him with dignity.

Ben waved her thanks aside and led her out. He snapped off the light and shut the door, locking it with a small key.

By the time they emerged it was fully dark, but the streets were bright, the city more alive than it had been during the day. Bands played on almost every corner, and flashing lights enticed attention. Rhianne glanced into one open door they passed to see a human woman in very little clothing dancing on a raised platform in the middle of the room. The patrons at tables were eating and drinking as though this was nothing extraordinary.

Ben caught her hand. “Not far now.”

Rhianne pulled her attention from the dancer and hurried beside him. “Are all human cities like this?”

Ben laughed. “No, sweetheart. New Orleans is unique. Probably a good thing.”

He guided her around a few more corners and halted before a brick building from which people spilled into the street. The large man at the door hailed them as they approached.

“Ben! How you doing? Thought you’d gone forever.” He caught Ben’s hand in a clasp and thumped his shoulder.

Ben returned the handgrip enthusiastically. “Work. You know how it is. Can you squeeze us in?”

“You? Of course. Come on in. Good evening, miss.” He gave Rhianne a cordial nod, his gaze swiveling back to Ben, brows rising.

Another person who assumed she and Ben were in a relationship. That should bother Rhianne, but for some reason, she didn’t mind.

Loud, thumping music met her ears as they stepped inside the building. The bass notes throbbed through her body, an entity of sound. She’d never heard the like.

Ben took her hand and steered her around tables to an empty one. A wave of his fingers brought a waitress to them, and a moments later, she cheerfully deliver two chilled bottles of ale.

“You want something else?” Ben asked Rhianne over the music. “Wine, whiskey, martini?”

Rhianne lifted the bottle. “Thank you, but no. I like the ale.” They sipped, Rhianne appreciating the cool liquid after their walk.

The music was compelling. Men and women gyrated with each other, but young women also danced together, and young men danced by themselves, showing off like cocks in a barnyard. Rhianne laughed as she watched them, her feet tapping. She loved to dance.

“Want to?” Ben gestured at the floor.

“Indeed.”

Rhianne rose eagerly, and soon they were in the midst of the bouncing, pulsating humans enjoying the hell out of the night.

Rhianne had no idea how humans danced. She had been trained in the stately art of grand pavanes and the brisker galliards, but she’d also learned folk dancing from the staff in her mother’s house when she’d been a girl. She and the staff had kept this a secret from Lady Aisling.

The music seemed to suit the folk dancing. There was no room for high kicks, but the beat was fast enough for jumping footwork and twirls. Ben wouldn’t know these dances, but in them, the man often acted as an anchor for the lady’s antics.

Rhianne began the so-familiar movements: heel and toe, rapid switch to the other foot, heel and toe, jump, her feet flashing as they crossed back and forth. Ben started to laugh.

He swung her around in a circle, then he began footwork that was just as boisterous and complex. The music wrapped Rhianne, filling her with its vibrations and repetitive sounds. It urged her to make the folk dance’s steps jerkier, integrating pauses and stops. The sapphire necklace bounced against her chest, glittering like stars under the club’s lights.

A young woman near her jumped and gyrated in a crazed way, her arms going in and out, her rhythm perfect. Rhianne imitated her, weaving the moves into the Tuil Erdannan dance.

Ben ceased being the easygoing, laidback man who’d wandered the streets with her today and transformed into a dancer. He rolled arms and shoulders, spun in place, and undulated like a snake. His moves were charged with sensuality, smoldering the air.

Rhianne’s heart beat faster, and not simply from the energetic dance. Ben kept his allure dampened, but all day Rhianne had felt a pull toward him. Had since he’d lifted her from the horrible cell.

Maybe she was becoming infatuated with him because