words, sometimes? Don’t you ever feel so full with emotions that no words would do? None seem good enough. That’s when dancing becomes a necessity for me.”
“When I’m full of emotion?” He arched an eyebrow ridge, a corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. There was a genuine desire to understand behind his amused expression, though.
So, I continued.
“Yeah, like...” I searched for words to describe that mix of longing and energy that grew and bubbled, threatening to explode if I didn’t move—the need to dance. “I believe it’s in everyone, the desire for another form of self-expression. Everyone has something that brings them happiness while they’re doing it. It doesn’t need to be dancing, of course. It could be any form of art—music, painting, singing—or crafts, creating something with your hands—carving, sewing, knitting.”
“You think everyone has that?”
“Sure. Sports could be that, too, for some. Any physical activity.”
“Like fighting?”
I bit my lip. The type of fighting that took place on the Dark Anomaly, I suspected, was not what one would call “relaxing and revitalizing.”
“Do you feel satisfied after a fight?” I asked.
“If I win. Which I always do.” He gave me a cocky grin.
I thought back to the fighting he’d done in the mess hall the night of my performance. He threw punches and maimed people with a sole purpose of allowing us to get away, not because he enjoyed it.
He couldn’t be talking about that.
“Do you have some kind of sparring here?” I clarified. “When you fight without the intent of seriously hurting your opponent?”
“There are one-on-one fights organized, nightly. There is always plenty of intent to hurt, but seriously harming each other is not allowed during those fights. Vrateus has strict rules against intentionally inflicting serious injuries.” His face lit up with a wide smile. “It’s still fun, though.”
“Well, I guess fighting without injury could be seen as a form of couple dancing,” I mused. “One person attacks, another parries. One leads, another follows.”
He tilted his head, as if considering something.
“Sex then could be viewed as a dance, too,” he said, unexpectedly.
“Um...”
How exactly did it come to talking about sex?
“One partner attacks,” he explained, “the other submits.”
I felt I owed it to every woman who might have sex with him one day to correct him on that one. Then, I winced at the thought of Wyck with another woman. It was not a pleasant one, and I chased it away like an annoying fly.
“The goal of having sex, other than for procreation, is the pleasure of both partners,” I said to him, “which means it shouldn’t be approached like a fight, where there could only be one winner.”
“Why not?” He slid his gaze to my lips as I spoke, and I found myself staring at his mouth, too. “Doesn’t one person lead and another follow in both cases? Isn’t there also some power involved?”
I forced myself to look up from his sensual lips and into his eyes. “Power? Are you talking about something like the power of passion?” I muttered.
His eyes lit up, making me warm inside.
“You see,” I cleared my throat, dropping my gaze into my lap, “unlike a fight, there are no losers in good sex. If it’s done right, both partners end up winning. That’s what so great about it.”
“Women also experience pleasure.” It wasn’t a question. His statement sounded as though female pleasure was not an entirely new concept to him.
“Yes.” I glanced up again. “Women do experience pleasure, Wyck. With the right partner, the sex is like a most wonderful dance, with a beautiful finale for both the man and the woman.”
He licked his lips, his eyes on me, and I followed his tongue with my gaze.
If I kissed that full bottom lip of his, would his taste have the same flavor as his scent?
The thought was sudden and wrong.
I’d been spending so much time with Wyck, hoping to eventually convince him to assist me in getting off the Anomaly, not to be seduced into daydreaming about the taste of his kiss. The way he was looking at me right now—the glowing gold of his eyes making my insides melt like warm butter—didn’t help, either.
“So many wonderful things have happened since your arrival,” he said softly.
Had anything wonderful ever happened on the Dark Anomaly? For me, it had been nothing but fighting off various aliens and a constant struggle for survival.
That would be Wyck’s regular life, I imagined—both rough and monotonous. For him, my arrival here had brought some changes to that life,