He teased her about farm life as she cleared the table. He wanted to savor all the precious normality he could before his fantasy came crashing down around him.
***
Hannah wasn’t used to such amazing food, or being waited on. Her own cooking tended towards simple, hearty fare. Meat and potatoes. She’d been raised to provide a clean home and nourishing meals for her family. Expected to help her mother in the home until a husband was found for her, and then she would be mistress of her own domain. But still, cook and clean and sew and garden.
There was nothing wrong with that life. She missed it- but Hannah loved dance. One day she would marry, settle down and raise a family, but she wanted to pursue her talent as well. Mother must have agreed or she never would have convinced her father to allow Hannah the dance lessons at the community center. Especially when he saw the leotards for the first time. Her mother had had to quickly sew something less… spandexy... to appease the head of household. So she’d danced in wide legged pants of a flowy material and a fitted long sleeved t-shirt. The center had modified recital costumes for Hannah. She’d been lucky.
But now. Now things were suddenly different somehow. Where she’d once been content to think of herself becoming a dancer, she now wanted something more from life. She could see a life beyond the pirouette.
“I have to get up early for class tomorrow,” Hannah said, pushing those thoughts aside. “Thank you for a lovely dinner.”
“You are very welcome,” Andrew said.
They stared at each other. The silence stretched, a kind of strange tension humming in the air between them. Andrew’s eyes seemed to brighten and then he moved, breaking their connection.
“You’ve been very kind to me,” he said. “I… find I don’t want to leave you just yet. It’s an odd request. Do you mind if I sleep on your couch again tonight? On my honor, I mean you no harm.”
He had such a funny way of talking. “You aren’t American, are you?”
Andrew folded his arms. “… No.”
Hannah hesitated. But… she didn’t want him to leave quite yet, either. Heart in her throat, she said, “Goodnight,” and slipped out of the kitchenette. Understanding why the girls in romance novels seemed to always make such silly mistakes.
“Goodnight.”
His quiet voice chased her into her bedroom, the deep tone wrapping around her body and sending her thoughts to sinful places. His face swam behind her eyelids, strong and calm, matching a quiet strength and kindness she hadn’t experienced before. And his eyes… she might be inexperienced, but the way he watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking... and sometimes, when she glanced up he wouldn’t look away. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Would it be so wrong? If he desired her, and she him, and there were feelings between them more than mere lust- would it be so wrong?
Restless heat stirred, deep in her core. She held herself stiff to keep from leaping out of her bed and going to him. It was a long time before she could sleep.
***
The next morning Hannah dressed quickly and left before Andrew awakened. It might have been the cowardly thing to do, but she would rather he just leave than say goodbye. She didn’t think she wanted to hear that word coming from his lips.
She pushed her way into the spacious, echoing dance studio. The door slammed behind her, the sound reverberating as she crossed the room toward the other dancers in her class.
“Hannah!”
The grating voice of her teacher rolled across the floor. She cringed before turning to face the stern older woman.
“Ms. Darlington, I can explain.”
“Oh, please do, Ms. Fisher. What was so important that you’d miss a second day of rehearsal for the summer showcase?”
The woman stood more than a head taller than Hannah- really tall. Her arms were crossed, and she peered down her long nose, awaiting an answer.
“I was... well, I was almost mugged, and…”
“Wait.” Her teacher held up an imperious hand. “This excuse I have heard before. Mugging? Not original.”
Indignation flared. “I’m not making it up. I’ve never been late to class before.”
“Irrelevant.”
“I know it sounds really odd, but…”
“Odd is not the word, Ms. Fisher.”
“I understand. I really would have come but the man I was with was hurt defending me and-”
Ms. Darlington snorted. “Ah, now we get to it. Always a man. Even a thing as innocent seeming as yourself- always a man!”
Some of the other dancers snickered. Hannah cringed at the sound of Miranda Harvey’s voice as she said, “Sounds to me like she’s just been shacking up and couldn’t be bothered to leave her new man long enough to come to rehearsal.”
“Be quiet,” the instructor snapped. She turned her attention back to Hannah and said, “By all rights I should replace you in this year’s summer showcase. All the other girls, even the stand-ins, have made it to every single rehearsal. You’ve missed two already!”
“I am so sorry, Ms. Darlington, you have my word it won’t happen again.”
The woman’s gnarled hand wrapped around Hannah’s upper arm and she pulled her across the room. When they were at a safe distance from prying ears, she leaned close.
“Don’t force my hand, young lady,” Darlington said. “If you screw up again, I won’t give you a pass. You have potential, but to allow the petty distraction of a man…”
“It won’t happen again,” Hannah repeated.
“See that it doesn’t, Ms. Fisher.”
Hannah heaved a sigh of relief as the instructor moved to the center of the room, clapping for attention, and scurried into her place. Darlington left a moment later to take a call.
“Wow, I can’t believe she let her stay,” Miranda stage whispered, lip curling.
Hannah clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. She’d endured Miranda’s relentless bullying since the first day she enrolled at Loyola on scholarship. First, Miranda had dared to mock her racial background- in her worldview, ballerinas were white, and skinny. It was true that Hannah was one of the only women of color at the school, but even the other girls had not appreciated Miranda’s use of that fact against Hannah. So she’d changed tactics and began to ridicule her over the fact that she was shy, that she’d come from a poor, rural background, and that she didn’t wear cosmetics or carry a cell phone. And, of course, she was curvy.
The first year students had formed a tight-knit clique, excluding Hannah, not long after the semester began. Miranda ruled her cronies with an iron fist, and if any of them so much as cast an innocent smile in Hannah’s direction, the young woman would immediately be shunned by the rest. None of them wanted to risk the facing of Miranda’s wrath, so Hannah had largely become ignored.
It was so… high school.
“Did you hear about that missing Prince?”
The students began their warm ups, awaiting the instructor’s return. The voice was barely above a whisper, but Hannah strained her ears to listen as the other women discussed the latest tabloid gossip.
“You mean that guy on the front of The Inquisitor? Omg, he’s hot. Did you see those eyes?”
“He’s only Prince of some tiny little country in eastern Europe,” Miranda said. “I’d never even heard of it.”
“Just because you’ve never heard of it doesn’t mean it’s not important, Miranda,” Krista said. Another willowy slim, upper middle class student. Brunette, wide liquid eyes and a haughty demeanor.
“Actually, that’s exactly what it means,” Miranda retorted. “My family owns more land here in the United States than that whole country has within its borders. The guy might as well be Prince of Rhode Island. And he isn’t even human. Uck.”
“They said he’s heir to a vast fortune. Only the royalty over there is so private that no one knows exactly how much he’s really worth. Let’s just say they don’t make it onto the
Forbes 500.”
“Of course they don’t,” Miranda said, rolling her eyes. “The Forbes 500 only tracks important people. Like my family.”
Hannah still couldn’t believe anyone could be so completely full of herself, and she’d been around Miranda for nearly a year.
“So how’d he go missing, anyway?” Tiffany’s voice.
“Maybe he’s Hannah’s mystery man,” Miranda smirked. “Hannah! Are you hiding a Prince in your apartment? She probably kidnapped him and she’s got him tied up in her closet, holding him for ransom to pay her rent!”
A smattering of students laughed, and Hannah turned and stormed from the room. She found Ms. Darlington in the hallway, returning from a trip to the restroom.
“Ms. Fisher?”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t stand stupid gossipy people.”
The instructor snorted. “Learn to deal with it, girl. A weak woman won’t make it in this industry. Come.”
The older woman hooked a supportive arm around Hannah’s shoulders and marched her back into the studio.
“Alright, ladies, let’s get started! Today you work, or I cancel this show faster than you can say ‘would you like fries with that?” the woman shouted, clapping her hands together sharply in rapid succession. “Begin!”
Ms. Darlington made her rounds, critical eye on the dancers. “By the way, ladies, I thought you might be interested to know one little tidbit of information about this year’s showcase. This year, our show is sponsored by the royal family of Casakraine. Their country is creating a cultural exchange program in order to cultivate a richer arts environment there, and they’ll be offering a few very prestigious scholarships to a few lucky students.”
A buzz erupted among the girls, and Hannah heard one of them mention Casakraine was the country with the missing Prince.
She went straight home after classes were done. The closer her bus drew near, the harder her heart beat. She emerged from the bus and walked a brisk half mile to her building, slowing when she saw the man standing outside the steps.
She’d seen pictures of ancient Greek statues. Serene with a masculine beauty defying the ability of mere mortals to produce. He stood with arms folded, an oasis of calm around which other life flowed. He’d done the same while watching her dance the other day. Hannah couldn’t decide if it was arrogance on his part to expect the environment to conform to him, or if he was just so at one with the environment he wasn’t conscious of how far outside it he stood.
His head turned as she approached and her breath hitched. Wild summer blue eyes in a face carved of stone. And then his expression softened and he strode towards her.
“Why are you outside?” Hannah asked. “The light can’t be good for your headache.”
Andrew looked down, black hair gleaming in the light, a finger brushed the curve of her cheekbone. “I wanted to ensure that odious little man remembered his manners.”
The sentiment simultaneously warmed and worried her. “Andrew... this isn’t the neighborhood to get into fights with people.”
His brow rose. “I can defend myself- and you- against a human or several. Come.”
He took her bag, escorting her inside. The scent of cooking food greeted her nose.
“I decided to make dinner,” he said, moving towards the stove to examine his pots. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, no, of course not. But you don’t have to cook.”
“Hmm. Where do you keep your colander?” The question must have been rhetorical- he looked like he’d already cataloged, and possibly rearranged, every item in her kitchen.
She locked the front door behind her and crossed the floor, heading into the kitchen.
“Excuse me,” she said softly, reaching past him to retrieve the colander from the cabinet.
Her body brushed against his and a feeling of warmth spread from the point of contact and rushed straight to her cheeks. Her heart fluttered, and she immediately stepped backward.
“Sorry,” she croaked, a lump in her throat suddenly choking her as she set the colander on the counter with a clang.
Hannah turned to flee, but a strong hand closed over hers. She stilled, body paralyzed with unfamiliar desire.
CHAPTER SIX
Andrei pulled her hand until she turned to face him. He could scent the perfume of her arousal, and the Bear inside him struggled to break free. He clenched his jaw and used the sheer force of his will to push Bear deep down inside him. She wasn’t ready for that, might never be. And there were no guarantees he could stay with her, anyway.
He wanted to give her a guarantee, even after only a few days in her company. This woman was not like other women he’d met. Other women would throw themselves at him. He could have his choice of any of them. But this one was different. Not only was she beautiful in the physical sense, she had a beautiful soul. That was something he couldn’t recall seeing in a long time.
Cautiously, he pulled Hannah toward him. Her cheeks colored underneath the dusky skin, her eyes lowering. It was odd, surprising and not unwelcome that he could almost feel her mix of shy discomfort and desire. Almost as if... but that wasn’t possible. Was it? She was human.
His hand lifted to her face, and he slid it across her neck and under her hair at the side, allowing his thumb to brush along the line of her jaw. She shivered.
“Andrew, I can’t…”
His finger silenced her. He lowered his head just inches from hers. He could hear her breath hitch in her throat, and he knew he could kiss her if he wanted to. Yet he held back. He wanted her, but he wanted all of her. And if he moved to fast she would slip from his grip.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, sliding his hand up to caress her cheek. “I’ll wait until you’re ready. I… think you’re worth waiting for.”
Gritting his teeth, he retreated, fingers curling into a fist. Her shoulders slumped, and she exhaled. The play of relief and disappointment on her face told him he was right- he would pursue her, but slow and steady. Stealthy.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said.
And with that she was gone, leaving Andrei to reflect on what had just happened. He could have kissed her. Of that, he was certain. But where would that have led? He knew his mother would never approve of him having any kind of serious relationship with a human, much less who she would consider a commoner. And Hannah was so much more than just a fling. He couldn’t treat her that way.
Inside him, Bear rumbled. Considered. And between one moment and the next, informed him of a decision that stole his breath and sealed his fate.
Ours, Bear said. Mate.
***
For the next few days, life settled into a regular routine. She would go to class, rehearsals for the showcase, and work. She wasn’t sure what Andrew did during the day, but when she returned there was always a meal waiting. Hannah also appreciated that he didn’t make a mess. Gradually little small toiletry items appeared in the bathroom. And somehow without discussing it, his clothing was in her closet. But he’d never entered her bedroom while she was home. He sat next to her on the couch, sometimes held her hand across the table while they ate, thumb caressing her skin.
And sometimes, he just watched her. A heaviness in his regard, the quality of his long silences… sharpening over time. Hannah felt he was waiting, but with the patience of a predator. Courting her, yes. Respectful, yes. But little touches turned into longer caresses. Gentle kisses on the forehead morphed into long, drugging assaults on her senses. Her body clamored, her heart not far behind. But she held back.
Each day she would ask him how he was feeling, and he’d tell her he was feeling better.
***
“Why do you stare at me?” she asked him one evening. Of all the questions she could have asked- why are you still here? Why do I let you stay here? What are we doing?- but, no, she’d asked him about his staring.
Blue eyes blinked, a slow nearly alien or at least inhuman motio
n. Sometimes the way he moved, the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders. The fluidity of hips as he walked... she danced. She noticed movements. And she couldn’t quite pin down what was so unique about his.
“Why wouldn’t I stare at you? I’m a... man. You’re a lovely woman.”
Her eyes narrowed. It was an evasion. She huffed, shaking curls out of her face and began hunting for a tie. “That’s not the reason you stare.”
She glanced over at him. He smiled. “Well, there’s no television. So you’re the second best thing to watch.”
Hannah frowned at him, pulling her hair out of her face. She knew he was teasing- she could hear it in his otherwise grave voice.
“You know what I think?” he said.
“You always tell me what you think.” She could tease, too. Though her teasing was delivered in maybe a drier tone.
He regarded her, then rose. She looked up from her cross legged position on the floor. Whenever he stood over her, face impassive as if he were hiding dark thoughts, bright eyes staring at her with the unblinking intensity of a gladiator.
Andrew’s smile widened and for a moment he was overshadowed by... Hannah jerked back, startled. He held out a hand, head tilted.
“Let’s go grab something quick and take it to the lakefront,” he said. “Pizza? Cupcakes?”
She placed her hand in his, allowing him to draw her to her feet. She didn’t need the help, of course. “I can’t have cupcakes. The showcase-”
He glared. “You need calories. You’ll waste away to nothing.”
Hannah snorted. “You’re funny.”
He caught her around the waist, yanking her against his body in an uncharacteristically aggressive movement. She clutched his shoulders.
“Andrew!”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, kissing her nose. “Eat whatever you want.” His fingers branded her, the touch searing the skin at her waist, and then he pushed her away. “Come on. The chef wants an evening off.”
Spring Feve Page 32