by Heather Long
The nervous flutters hit my stomach again as Jasper waited, my hand still firmly in his. At least it wasn’t the one I’d just gotten out of the splint. It was even weirder though because he seemed genuinely excited, and after weeks of surly attitude, monosyllabic responses, gun pulling—let’s not forget the gun pulling—and scowls, he seemed almost happy.
So. Fucking. Weird.
“Show me?” It was the best I could do. A real smile softened his features, and holy crap did it change everything about him. Even his eyes gentled and reminded me of a wintry sky right before a heavy snowstorm came in to blanket everything in gorgeous silence.
I didn’t resist in the slightest as he led me down the hall, measuring his strides so he matched mine. They all had longer legs than me. A fact I’d already filed under irritating.
While there were doors on this hall, they were all two doors wide and spaced much farther apart. The very last set of two doors were the ones he opened, and I swore we had to be out in the warehouse and we kind of were except…it had walls, mirrors, a wooden floor. There was even a dance barre at one end, and strung to the ceiling were silks on a pulley, though they were up higher than I could reach at the moment without leaping.
The pulley went all the way to the ceiling of the warehouse, and the walls extended pretty high.
I tried to take it all in but it was…it was so much. The flooring was even right. It was a little too polished though. Regular movement on it would scuff it up.
Suddenly, the reason for the leotard and dance pants registered.
“You built me a studio.”
“You said this was what you needed to rehab,” Jasper said as if it was the most reasonable thing ever and they hadn’t transformed an entire section of their space in order to accommodate me.
Wait… Why had they?
“You’re not planning to let me go.”
His humor seemed to dry up.
A sigh echoed from someone behind me, but I didn’t look.
“This is safer for you,” Jasper said, all trace of the softness gone from his voice. “If we missed something, tell us. We can move the silks when you’re ready, but we need to add some safeties down here.”
I wasn’t really listening anymore because he’d also let go of my hand.
“Do you need music? We have a shitty stereo system for right now.” He fired every word like a bullet.
“It’s not that shitty,” Kestrel said. “But it’s also not high-end. Vaughn has a list of the music you were using for the warmups, and I have the stuff from the school where you were training.”
Right. Because Vaughn had been one of the stagehands. Jasper had been on the crew. Kestrel drove me around.
I licked my lips.
“I might need shoes. But I don’t have to have them.” I could make do without. The calluses on my feet probably needed toughening up.
“You mentioned ballet, right?” Jasper asked as he walked over to a crate I hadn’t even seen tucked against the wall just inside the door. We’d kind of sailed right past it. “Toe shoes.”
He popped it open, and there were all kinds of dance shoes in there. He looked at them, then at me.
“We had to guess on the sizes. Freddie did some research.” He shot a skeptical look at Freddie, but the smartass kept his mouth shut. He even made a show of zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the imaginary key.
“We had the pair from your room,” Kestrel offered. “But far as we could tell, all shoe sizing is different.”
They’d done research on dance shoes.
“But you prefer the Capezio Hanami,” Rome said, and I couldn’t help it, my jaw fell open. “It was in that article about you in the paper. Those were your ballet shoes of choice.”
The article the paper.
Dance shoes.
Research.
A dance studio just for me.
“If it’s not enough,” Jasper said, slamming the crate shut and making me jump. “Tell us. You can use this room to rehab.”
I literally had no words.
“Everyone out.”
“I thought we were gonna get to watch,” Freddie protested, abandoning his vow of silence. “Not all of us got to go and see her at the theatre.”
“Yeah,” Kestrel told him, gripping his shoulder and hauling him backward. “That would be because someone got pinched, or you would have been there too.”
Liam laughed, but Rome actually looked pained. But they also tracked out behind Kestrel and Freddie. Doc hadn’t moved from the door, and I was grateful for the steadiness of his presence. Vaughn folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. Jasper glared at both of them.
“What part of ‘everyone out’ did you think didn’t apply to either of you?”
“I worked all the backstage stuff. If she wants the silks down, she’ll need someone to tie it back off.” Vaughn didn’t even blink. “Doc probably wants to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself, and he had some ideas about her rehab.”
With a snort, Jasper shook his head. “I can work the pulleys fine. And Doc’s job is done here.”
“Don’t make him leave,” I asked quietly. “Please?”
Doc had offered to get me out of here, and clearly, these guys had zero intention of letting me go. As wonderful as this whole set-up seemed on the surface, they were building me a very pretty cage.
Still scowling, Jasper glared at me, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
Be smarter, Emersyn.
“Thank you for doing all of this.” The words tasted like ash, but I was accomplished at thanking people for things, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do. Maybe he was a bit psycho, but he had gone to a lot of trouble to do something because I’d said this was what I needed.
Don’t fall for it.
“I really do appreciate it, I just…didn’t know what to say. I had no idea you would do this.” The last part was the absolute truth.
Some of his scowl eased, and a hint of the earlier softness returned. “I want you to be comfortable. You didn’t like having people in your rehearsal space.”
Surprise flickered through me. “How do you know that?”
I never said that. Sometimes, I simply didn’t have a choice.
He lifted one shoulder. “You always timed your rehearsals when everyone else was done. You trained for several days at a private facility away from the theatre while they were all there.”
“And some of the other dancers talked,” Vaughn supplied. “But Jasper’s right. If you need privacy, we’ll go.”
Did I need it?
No.
Did I want it?
I wasn’t sure.
I glanced around the room and then back to the chest. “Um…maybe let me warm up on my own and come back? I don’t know how weak my ankle is going to be, and I need some time to stretch.”
“Do you need to eat first?” Jasper asked. “You haven’t even had coffee. You know what… I’ll go get you some water.”
He was gone before I could answer him, and Vaughn chuckled and muttered something under his breath as he followed him, and for just a few seconds, I was alone with Doc.
“Remember what I said,” he told me. “I’ll give you a few minutes to warm up.”
“Yes,” I told him. “I do.”
He paused, gaze fixed on mine, and goosebumps rioted over my skin. He gave me a single nod.
“Be patient. It might take a while to get everything where it used to be.”
I let out a shuddering breath as he exited, leaving me alone.
He’d help me.
I just had to be patient.
Chapter 19
Emersyn
I stared at the mirrors on the far side of the room for several long seconds after the door closed behind Doc. The racing of my heart left me lightheaded and more than a little dizzy. Worse, I was so tempted to run out behind him and beg him to get me out of here now.
Not only would that be stupid, it would also be ineffectiv
e. Jasper wasn’t likely to let me go anywhere with Doc. The overzealous leader of my self-appointed guardians had a real hard-on where Doc was concerned. Fine, I just had to assuage Jasper’s worries so he would loosen his grip.
I could do that.
Closing my eyes, I worked on getting my breathing under control then turned to where the stereo was. There was a stack of homemade CDs. The one on top bore the label, Emersyn’s Weird Warmup Shit.
The next one bore the strokes of a black Sharpie and the title Happy shit.
The one below it was Depressing as fuck.
The corner of my mouth twitched. There had be a dozen CDs. They even had one with the show’s title on it. A cold feeling inched up my spine. It had begun growing when Rome detailed what my favorite shoes were. My clothes. My preferred shampoo. My preferred soap. Sure, they could have gotten all of that from my hotel room.
Now these CDs with music they’d apparently put together from what I liked or used. The apprehension wound tighter in me. How long had they been planning this? Stalking me? I used to muse I’d been living in a cage for years. So what did it say about me that I was putting their CD into the player and hitting play before I took a few steps back into the studio they’d set up for me?
Gilded cage?
No.
But this cage didn’t scare me to death.
The first bars of the music washed over me, and I tilted my head back and closed my eyes as I began to stretch.
Arms up, I stretched them. Oh, it felt so good to reach for the sky with both arms free. The air was so cool against my wrist and forearm. The muscles protested the stretch, but I ignored them. The first song was slow on purpose as I rolled through each set of steps. Lunges that got deeper and deeper. Back bends. Loosening the IT bands. Rotating the shoulders. Flexing the wrists.
While I’d made sure to stretch every day, this was different. I descended into a slow split, controlling the descent with only my muscles in my inner thighs, all of which screamed at the intensity. Stretching each day wasn’t pushing myself. I pointed my toes to increase the stress on my calves and lower back as I leaned over my right leg and then my left.
I repeated it until there was no pull left and everything was loose. Back straightening, I planted my hands on the floor. The music was a slow descant, a remix of something, but I barely heard it. The beat was absent and it remained slow, all mournful horns and harmonic counter melodies from the piano, as though the two instruments warred over who controlled the song.
My arm was weaker and the bone newly healed, but even if pain waited at the other end of this move, pain could be compartmentalized. It was a slow, punishing process to roll all of my weight upward as I balanced on my hands. Upward and over my shoulders until I was completely inverted, legs stretched out to either side of me, still in the split.
Balanced.
Even.
The protest in my muscles was profound.
But I could do it.
I could still do it.
The tremble in my muscles warned me so I rolled out of the hand stand and onto my feet. The rush of blood from my head took a moment, and then I did a cartwheel, and another, and another. Bare feet flexing against the floor as my blood seemed to pump harder as the music segued from concertos to rock, I grinned.
This was home.
The place between music and movement.
Serene, despite the exertion, I repeated the cartwheels, rolling my whole body all the way across the studio then back. The spin coupled with being upside down sent all the blood pounding into my skull. If dancers and performers weren’t used to it, it could disorient even the most capable.
And I hadn’t been capable of much the last few weeks.
I came out of the last cartwheel in an arabesque. I hadn’t bothered with pointe shoes. I’d need to smash the boxes. And I could dance barefoot. Today it was just about the music. The music segued to another familiar tune, and I went through a whole series of positions, riding the grace of the music. The suite was perfect for warming up, building control and then letting loose.
Every step elongated the stretches I’d already done. Every motion reasserted my control. The constant hum in the back of my mind silenced as I flowed with the music. No bruises to stiffen my movements, and there was an odd elation that struck when that thought eddied to the surface. The music shifted again, this time to something more rock opera, and my mind relaxed as my body took over.
Riding the razor edge between performance and exertion, I surrendered to the motion. This wasn’t some rehearsed moves, but just letting my body move to the music. I wanted to go up en pointe, but without shoes, my toes would have to do. Pirouette. Arabesque. Step in. Step out. Back to center. Around. I spun with the dance, and when the music changed to something much more pulse pounding, I just let go.
The rush of it and the motion. The silks weren’t too far above me, and I did a series of flips then caught them, suspending as I held there and flexed as I began to roll them and up I went. The peace I’d found in the music and the motion couldn’t compare to the elation flooding me as I began to work my way up.
Roll, twist, weave, and catch the foot, then tumble and swing and back up again. I flew up and then down. Each sinuous motion would allow me to climb as I rolled with them. There was a moment when I was suspended only by the weight of my feet balanced in the folds of the silks, my arms outstretched, that everything fell away.
Eric.
The company.
The bruises.
The bones.
The terror.
The kidnapping.
Even my erstwhile guardians, who despite their rough, tatted exteriors and dangerous air, didn’t frighten me.
Well, not much.
“Hey, pretty girl, you lost?”
“She looks lost.”
I slipped a little but caught on the swing and then twisted up and rolled down until I hung just from the two edges and dropped. I didn’t land as I expected though, hard arms closed around me as someone caught me.
My eyes flicked open, and I found Jasper staring at me with the most unexpected openness and wonder in his dark gray eyes. The hammer of my heart thudded against my ribs. Rather than just set me down, Jasper curled his arms up until he almost had me in a bridal carry. Panting, I fought to find words. They weren’t always easy to reach when I was lost to the music. The next song clicked over, and it was a slower tempo, something to cool down with, and I needed to…
“Can you put me down?” I managed to push those five words out, and Jasper shifted his grip and slowly let me stand. It involved me sliding down the front of him, but he didn’t brush my ass or catch the side of a breast. More, he moved almost subtly so I didn’t hit his groin. I swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth because I wanted to see if he was turned on.
Sweat slicked my skin, and the air had turned humid around me. Though I was breathing far harder than I should be for the workout. Jasper didn’t withdraw once I was on my feet. If anything, he seemed to be studying me intently like he wanted to dig inside my brain or something.
I took a step back, and his hands loosened before they fell away from me. A quick sweep of the room showed me we were alone, and I turned away and began to move again to the music. Longer motions, stretching again. I’d pushed and I could feel twinges, especially in my arms, but I didn’t care.
Pain was life.
Living was pain.
For the first time in forever, I’d danced without having to fight through the pain to breathe. Despite weeks of inaction, muscle memory proved to be my greatest asset, and I reached for the peace I’d found in the dance and the silks. It was harder with an audience.
It shouldn’t be.
“Hey pretty girl, you lost?”
“She looks lost.”
The crunch of the rock hitting jarred me as the music faded between songs, and I just stopped moving. Hands on my hips, I dropped my chin and tried to slow my breathing. I didn’t want to think about the boys o
r the park.
Or the beautiful painting Rome made before there was blood on the cement.
A click had me opening my eyes again. Jasper stood at the CD player, and he’d turned it off. “Talk to me,” he said quietly.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
I laughed, and the sound came out muddied with tears I refused to shed. I’d given up crying a long time ago, and I wasn’t about to start now. “That’s a stupid question, and you’re not a stupid man.”
Surprise flickered across his face.
Moving to walk in a slow circle, I worked on cooling off.
“I want to help you,” he said in a voice so soft, I thought I had to have imagined it, but whenever I faced him, he tracked me with that storm-kissed gaze.
“Then let me go.”
“I can’t do that. Ask me for anything else.”
I laughed again and shook my head. “You built me a dance studio.” That I could appreciate.
“You said you needed it.”
“But if I say I need you to let me go, that’s off the table.”
“It’s safer for you here.”
I spun to face him. “What the hell does that mean?”
He stalked toward me. “That’s a stupid question,” he parroted back at me. “And you’re not a stupid woman.”
Woman.
Not girl.
I didn’t understand why that registered with me. “Why do you want to keep me safe?”
Lifting a single finger, he raised his eyebrows but didn’t touch me until I nodded slowly. With care, he stroked that finger down my cheek. I was sweaty and gross, but it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. “You’re perfect.”
Of all the things he could have said, that never even ventured in the direction of a list I would have made. The breath I’d been trying to regulate backed up into my lungs. He drew a heart against my cheek.
“You’re a work of art in motion,” Jasper continued, and I couldn’t look away from his eyes as he seemed to bore his gaze into mine. “There is nothing I won’t do for you.”
That should scare the shit out of me.