“Dancing is the vertical expression of a horizontal desire.”
Lars reached for the door marked HEADMISTRESS. “Ready?”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Eight
Demon slipped farther into the shadows at the base of the stairwell. Allie’s ballet class had just completed their warm-up at the barre. He’d come to watch. Seraph wouldn’t have cared if the girl was happy or not, but her “fathers” cared very much. In fact, Seraph wasn’t even aware Demon had enrolled Allie in a school that catered to dance as well as academics. Seraph hadn’t specified where he was to enroll her—just that he was to do it. Since Malachi was still supposed to be ignorant of Allie’s location, Demon considered it his responsibility to see how Allie was settling into her new school.
Demon gazed at the matronly woman wearing a long black practice skirt over her matching leotard. The teacher paused beside a student, gently placing her second and third fingers beneath the girl’s chin and lifting it to the correct angle.
He could see Allie watching from the corner of her eye. For a thirteen-year-old, she was surprisingly adept at absorbing what she saw. She adjusted the angle of her own chin to match that of the other girl’s. The teacher passed, giving her a warm word of encouragement. When Allie’s full lips tilted just so, Demon felt his heart contract with a wave of fierce emotion.
She wasn’t his blood. She was Malachi’s. But Allie was as much Demon’s daughter as she was his partner’s. He’d been there when she was born, cared for her throughout her life, and made her happiness his full-time occupation.
Allie looked far more like Malachi than she did Seraph. She was tall for her age with a long, lean frame given to sleek muscle. Her full mouth and high cheekbones reminded Demon of Malachi’s, as did her mischievous gray eyes. Keeping the three of them together was the most important thing on Demon’s list. No matter the cost.
* * * *
“I’m sorry, did you just offer me a teaching position?” Selena tried not to gawk but found it almost impossible in light of the circumstances.
Ms. Warren, the headmistress, smiled as if she had total confidence in Selena’s abilities. “Normally there is a bit more of a process, but your sister-in-law, Talia, taught here for more than a decade. I also spoke with Madame Brussard when I stepped out a moment ago, and she speaks of your talent in glowing terms.”
“I started with her when I was three.” Selena swallowed, her throat dry and scratchy. “I’ve never taught a class though.”
“Madame assured me you were always very good with the younger girls when you were prepping for productions.” The earnest expression on the woman’s face nearly convinced Selena. “That is the way in which most of us learn to teach. We don’t set out to do it. It is simply an extension of the learning process.”
Selena gazed around the simple office with its pale yellow walls. It reminded her of the tiny office Madame had kept in the back of her studio—half-toppled towers of instrument cases, a discarded pair of toe shoes, and walls hung with faded posters from productions long over. The pleasing scent of mint emanated from the candy dish on the corner of Ms. Warren’s desk.
Lars helped himself to the candy. “So if my cousin takes the position, does that come with an option to board?”
“That’s actually one of my reasons for offering it.” Ms. Warren glanced over the application Selena had hastily filled out. “You’ll receive further training, room and board, and a small salary. We don’t generally offer a boarding option to students at your level unless they come on staff. Most are preparing to join professional companies at your age.”
Yes, because they’re not stuck following the society princess career track.
“What about it, Se?” Lars nudged her in the ribs. “It’s worth a look around, don’t you think?”
It would be nice to be out from under her family’s thumb, unless… “What sorts of expectations come with the room and board?”
Ms. Warren pursed her lips, and Selena tried to decide if she was hiding a smile or a frown. “Our teachers share RA responsibilities. You will be on duty two nights a week. The other five are purely your prerogative, though we do ask that you comport yourself in a way that doesn’t reflect badly on the school.”
So no bringing random hookups back to the dorm.
She thought of Malachi’s slate-gray gaze. “Recklessness doesn’t equal independence.” His words made something deep inside her clench as though she was desperate for an anchor in a storm. Somehow, she didn’t think random hookups were going to cut it anymore.
Selena offered Ms. Warren what she hoped was a warm smile. “I think I would like to look around, if that’s all right.”
“Since you’ve brought your things with you, why don’t you change and get a feel for the studio down the hall. Class is nearly over, and I’m certain Madame Denis would be happy to give you a quick evaluation. Besides, it’s always better to stretch while you think.”
The desire to loosen her limbs and sink into the repetitive sequence of ballet positions that had been part of her routine since early childhood was a strong motivator. “I think that would be a good idea.”
When the headmistress smiled, Selena realized the woman had known exactly how to swing Selena in the desired direction.
* * * *
Demon couldn’t have said what it was that drew his attention so forcefully away from Allie’s class. One minute he was watching the budding teen as she lined up with others waiting their turn to practice grand jetés on the dance floor beneath their teacher’s watchful gaze. The next he felt as if he’d been zapped by a violent magnetic field. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and his hands clenched involuntarily at his sides.
He tilted his chin, his hair sliding away from his face and giving him a better view of the three people meandering down the hall in his direction. The headmistress was familiar. He liked her well enough—much better than the woman who’d held that title at Allie’s last school.
An unfamiliar man with broad shoulders accompanied Ms. Warren. He moved as if he knew how to handle himself. Demon wondered if the studied air of nonchalance really fooled those around him. Everything from the leonine way he walked to his hooded perusal of his surroundings suggested his tailored slacks and jacket hid more than the average businessman.
Demon was about to chock his over-the-top reaction up to the man until he focused on the blonde nymph pacing beside the headmistress. Without thought, Demon reached up and pushed his hair fully out of his face to get a better look.
Beautiful didn’t cover it. She was stunning. Her pale pink leotard and footless tights lovingly cupped her svelte dancer’s body. The short wraparound practice skirt only emphasized the narrow flare of her hips and the round globes of her ass. She carried a black tote slung over one shoulder, and bit her lip as she gazed into the classroom to watch the dancers. The sight of her even white teeth gripping the full ripeness of that lip sent a jolt of shocking lust to Demon’s groin.
Her companion nudged her gently, a gesture that suggested long familiarity without a hint of sexual interest. “What do you think, Selena?”
Demon didn’t believe in coincidences. The world didn’t work that way. Like almost every other child in Canton Province, he’d been raised in a Buddhist household. He held a firm belief that events happened in a concise fashion as dictated by the universe in general and karma in particular. Fate had put the three of them in the street that night. It had brought her back to the club. And it had somehow placed him at the school in this moment. What remained to be discovered was why.
Selena moved so close to the window she could have pressed her nose against the glass. “They remind me of myself.”
The wistfulness in her voice tugged at his protective instincts. He could easily see her snagging Malachi’s attention with the aura of repressed desire she wore like a cloak. The Dominant in Demon immediately sensed the submissive streak in this woman.
He stepped out of the s
hadows, wondering if she would recognize him from that night or sense him for what he was and what he would become to her.
“Mr. Yen, I didn’t see you there.” Ms. Warren offered him a smile. “Allie looks as if she’s settling into her class quite well.”
“Yes. She seems happy.”
SELENA HAD TO fight the urge to clamp her legs together when the stranger spoke. Arousal curled around her nerves and made her hot and wet without knowing the reason why. The only one who’d ever drawn such a visceral reaction from her gut was Malachi. Had her little adventure at Triptych unlocked some weird sixth sense she’d been unaware of until that moment?
Ms. Warren was trying to introduce them. “Mr. Yen is the coguardian of one of the students in this class. Ms. Aasen is going to be teaching dance for us while she continues her own training.”
This guy’s presence was reducing Selena’s intellect to that of an idiot’s. The headmistress would definitely rethink her decision to add Selena to the staff if she could barely babble a greeting. Scraping together what was left of her composure, Selena sucked in a deep breath and gave Mr. Yen her brightest smile. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Malachi was handsome the way she’d always thought a Greek god would be. Mr. Yen was another kind altogether. He exuded dangerous like his own personal brand of pheromone. She’d never been attracted to an Asian guy in her life, but she’d never met anyone like him. He was only an inch or two taller than she was. His faded jeans and blue T-shirt hugged his spare frame, and his bare forearms were ripped with the kind of muscle that came from hours spent on physical pursuits.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone bone-dry. She lifted her gaze to his face and was trapped by the beauty of his impossibly black eyes. Thick, silky hair hung in his face, and she had to forcibly restrain herself from reaching out to push it back. Remnants of the night Jackson had threatened her drifted through her mind. She’d had only the barest impression of dark hair and unfathomable black eyes.
No way. It’s not possible.
Still, Mr. Yen had a powerful aura. What would it be like to have the right to touch this man? To stroke his golden skin and run her fingers through the fall of hair before pressing her mouth against his full lips?
He took her hand and gently rubbed her palm. “A pleasure to meet you, Selena.”
Her knees sagged, and she struggled to remain upright. His satin baritone was the perfect counterpoint to the memory of Malachi’s bass tones that still whispered in her mind. A strange instinct made her want to kneel before this man. Doing so would’ve been as natural as the hedonistic experience she’d had with Malachi and the flogger.
Lars stuck his hand out to draw Mr. Yen’s attention away from her. “I’m sorry. What was your name?”
“Yaojing Yen.” Deftly avoiding the handshake, he executed a perfect bow.
Lars returned the gesture, looking oddly comfortable doing so. “Have we met?”
Yen eyed Lars from behind his protective curtain of hair. “I don’t believe so.”
“Sorry, when you called my cousin by her first name, I naturally assumed we’d previously met.” Lars’s voice was missing his usual nonchalant tone.
Yen didn’t respond, gazing at Selena as if he expected her to say something. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him about the night in the alley. She wanted so badly to know if he was the mysterious other hero, but that would mean explaining to Lars what had happened. She was saved from further explanation when the classroom door burst open, spilling girls into the wide hallway.
“Hello, Ms. Warren!” Several greeted the headmistress as they chattered their way toward the exit. She was swept into a conversation by several eager dancers talking so exuberantly that Selena could barely keep up.
“If you would like to go on in and start stretching, I’d be happy to send Madame to you shortly for a quick evaluation.” The harried headmistress gave Selena a smile before allowing herself to be dragged away.
“Dee! You’re here!”
Selena didn’t know what she’d been expecting when Ms. Warren had said Yen was the coguardian of one of the students. It wasn’t the slim girl with a sprinkling of freckles across her olive complexion and the silky dark hair pulled into a snug bun. Of course, being a father didn’t necessarily mean you had to contribute to the gene pool.
The girl flung herself at Yen, and he caught her, giving her a quick hug. “I told you I would stop by to check on you. Here I am.”
“Did you see my turnout? It’s better now, isn’t it? And my jumps were like, super high!” She slipped to the ground, hauling up on the strap of her tote to keep it slung over her narrow shoulder. One of her pink Converse sneakers was untied. In her pink leotard, practice skirt, and leg warmers, she could have been a dark-headed version of Selena at that age. Not that time had diminished Selena’s penchant for pink.
“Alisa, this is Selena Aasen,” Yen said calmly. “She’s going to teach here at the school.”
Until that moment Selena hadn’t been one hundred percent certain she’d take the job. She wasn’t teacher material. She’d been a spoiled princess who’d grown into an even more spoiled adult. Where was the role model in that?
Then Alisa gazed up at her with a pair of slate-gray eyes that looked so incredibly familiar Selena felt as if she’d do anything to spend more time with this kid. Even if it meant maxing out her patience and teaching little girls how to pin their buns and turn out their toes.
“Do you know what level you’re teaching?” Alisa asked eagerly.
Selena shook her head. “I don’t. Have you guys auditioned for the holiday production yet?”
“I just started here.” Alisa looked truly bummed. “My old school was doing Coppélia. I auditioned for Swanhilda, but I wound up in the corps. I think we’re doing The Nutcracker here.”
Selena sympathized with the girl’s pain. It sucked to get passed over for a role even when you were likely just a little young for it. “Which do you like better?”
“The Nutcracker. We didn’t have enough people to do a big production like that at Sutton Prep.” Alisa couldn’t hide the excitement in those gray eyes even though she was trying to suppress it.
“Don’t tell me you’re a Sugar Plum Fairy groupie,” Selena teased.
“Actually, I’m hoping to at least make Clara’s part or maybe one of her friends. I’ve only been on pointe since last year.” Alisa adjusted her bag and leaned closer. “I really want to dance in the flower corps. I’d rather dance the Dewdrop solo than the Sugar Plum Fairy.”
Never had Selena felt such a gulf between the woman she was now and the girl she’d been five years before. If only she could get that time back. She struggled to keep her expression of polite interest. “It is a beautiful part.”
Alisa cocked her head to one side like a little bird. “Did you ever dance that part?”
“I did. Two years in a row, actually.” The kid was far too perceptive for Selena’s piece of mind.
Lars frowned. “I remember that. Wasn’t that when—”
“Yes. My last production, when we performed with the Boston Ballet at the Opera House.” Selena flung that little tidbit out there to keep Lars from finishing his thought.
Of course he’d remember the night her mother had very publicly separated from husband number four. The two of them had brought the house down with their spectacular shouting match during intermission. Sometimes Selena wondered if her mother would have been so rude to the director of the Boston Ballet if she’d been happily ensconced in her marital love bubble. He’d offered Selena a spot in his company and a chance to dance in Europe that Annaline Aasen had turned down flat on her daughter’s behalf.
Yen’s gently chiding voice interrupted their exchange. “Don’t you have classes this afternoon, Allie?”
Alisa clasped her hands together in a true display of teenage dramatics. “It’s just study hall. Can’t you sign me out for the rest of the day? Puhlease, Dee? Pretty, pretty, pretty p
lease with lots of rice pudding on top?” Alisa swung back around to Selena. “That’s as close to sugar as he ever eats. Rice this and rice that.”
Selena couldn’t help but warm up to Alisa. “I like rice.”
“Yeah, but I bet you eat other stuff too.”
“I’m pretty sure he does too. You don’t grow up to look like him without a little protein in your diet.”
“So are you saying Dee is hot?” Alisa’s eyes sparkled with a hint of the devil. “Because I’m pretty sure he’s single.”
It was innocent fun from a teenager. There was no reason for Selena to feel like she’d been stripped naked. Chills danced up and down her spine, and butterflies bounced madly around her stomach. No matter what she said, she’d make a complete ass out of herself.
Just admit it. You want to see if this guy can make you come as hard and fast as Malachi did the other night.
Her brain took the next step and imagined both of them—Malachi’s bold-as-brass sex-god skill and the seductive subtlety of the strange Mr. Yen. Two men who possessed completely different vibes. How was that not the best of both worlds?
Chapter Nine
Demon took pity on Selena and tapped Allie’s shoulder to gain her attention. “Let’s leave the Aasens to finish their tour. I’ll sign you out for the afternoon, and we can work on acquiring that long list of items you desperately need for your dorm.”
“Can it involve fro-yo?” Allie nudged his shoulder.
He could make grown men piss their pants, but he consistently failed at negotiating with this scrap of femininity. She had gone from being a chubby-cheeked toddler in ruffled dresses to a girl on the cusp of becoming a bombshell beauty. Heaven help them all.
Allie smiled at Selena. “You should come with us.”
Demon wasn’t surprised that Alisa felt an instant connection to Selena. The same had proved true for both Malachi and Demon. It only made sense that their daughter should feel the same way. It was another link in the chain that fate seemed to be binding about them all.
Boston Avant-Garde 5: Bellicoso Page 7