DANCE WITH ME

Tyra's POV

Alaric's jacket was still hanging over the back of my vanity chair when I left my room, and I had to stop myself from touching it on my way out.

Four days had passed since that night on the balcony. I hadn't returned it, and he hadn't asked for it back. 

Every night, I told myself I would give it to one of the omegas to take to his room in the morning, and every morning, I walked past it and pretended I hadn't fallen asleep breathing in woodsmoke and sandalwood.

I had spent most of those four days hiding in the library with my laptop and my grant files, sitting through one very long, very careful conversation with Lucius about my "episode," and avoiding both twins with a dedication that bordered on athletic.

But tonight, there was nowhere left to hide.

It was the grand opening of the inauguration, the first night of three months of rituals, trials and politics, and every family member was expected to be present and smiling.

Now I stood near the foot of the grand staircase, my heart beating far too fast, looking out over a ballroom that shimmered like liquid gold.

Dozens of packs had come from across the region. Crystal chandeliers dripped light over a sea of silk gowns and dark suits, and the light bounced off silver wolf crests embroidered on velvet banners. 

The air was thick with laughter, perfume and power, the perfect display of Forrest wealth and dominance.

And I had never felt more like a trespasser in my life.

The gown my mother had chosen for me didn't help. It was black silk that shimmered faintly whenever I moved, and it clung to every curve of my body before falling away completely at the back, leaving my spine bare almost all the way down to the dip of my waist. 

When I had looked in the mirror earlier, I had seen a stranger, someone confident and sensual and completely unafraid of being looked at.

Now that people actually were looking, I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.

"That's the wolfless one?" a woman murmured somewhere to my left.

"A Valerius without a wolf," a man replied, not bothering to lower his voice. "What a damn shame."

Every word hit sharper than I wanted to admit. I curled my fingers tightly around my little silk clutch and kept my chin up, the way I had been practicing all week.

"You look breathtaking, Tyra."

I turned, and my breath caught.

Osric had found me before I could disappear into some quiet corner. He was dressed in a dark suit that fit him like it had been sewn directly onto his body, his crisp white shirt open at the collar and his tie loose, like he had gotten bored halfway through putting it on. 

His golden-brown hair was tousled, and confidence radiated off every line of him.

When he smiled, his eyes glinted gold, and my stomach did something stupid and fluttery.

My first instinct was to roll my eyes, mostly to hide how flustered I was.

"You're as charming as ever," I said dryly.

"Maybe," he replied, his smile widening into something warm and boyish. "But that doesn't make it any less true." He held out his hand. "Dance with me."

I hesitated, glancing at the crowd around us. "Everyone's watching," I whispered.

"Let them," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, teasing. "It's our night, isn't it? The heirs of the Forrest pack and the elusive stepsister who's far too good for all of us."

"Don't twist my words," I muttered, but my pulse jumped the moment his fingers brushed mine.

He led me out onto the dance floor just as the music swelled into something slow, deliberate and seductive.

At first, I tried to keep a respectable distance between us but Osric wasn't having it. 

His hand settled warm and steady at my waist, then slid back until his palm rested against the bare skin of my lower back, and the contact sent a shiver racing all the way up my spine.

He felt it. I knew he did, because his fingers flexed against my skin, and his eyes darkened.

"You've been avoiding me since your incident," he murmured, his eyes locked on mine as we moved. "Four days, Tyra."

"I've been busy," I replied, staring at his collar so I wouldn't get lost in his eyes.

"Doing what?" he asked softly. "Staring at the door so you can run again?"

My jaw tightened. "You wouldn't understand."

"I think I do," he said, and his tone softened, the charm slipping away until only sincerity was left. "You think getting close to us will break you. That's why you're shaking right now."

I hadn't even realized I was shaking until he said it.

I started to pull away, but his hand tightened at my waist. He didn't hold me in a demanding way, only firmly enough to stop me from running.

"Osric…" I whispered.

"I won't hurt you," he said quietly, his voice almost desperate. "I never wanted to. Why don't you believe me?"

The pain in his voice cracked something wide open inside me.

For a moment, the whole room fell away. The murmurs, the lights and even the music faded into nothing, until there was only the warmth of his palm on my bare skin, the solid heat of his chest an inch from mine and the pulse beating between us, steady and alive.

He pulled me a little closer, slowly, giving me time to stop him. I didn't. 

My breasts brushed against his chest, his thigh slid between mine as we turned, and a hot, aching throb answered between my legs so suddenly that I had to bite back a gasp.

"Give me a chance," he whispered against my temple, his voice low and dark. "I am not Alaric."

Then I felt it.

A soft, burning hum started at the base of my spine, right beneath his hand, and curled slowly upward like warmth spreading beneath my skin. 

My breath hitched. The sensation was so intense it was almost overwhelming, sweet and molten and terrifying all at once.

Osric's pupils blew wide. "Tyra…" he breathed, like he had felt it too.

I looked up at him, and his eyes felt magnetic, like they were pulling me in. The pull was almost irresistible. I wanted to be closer. 

I wanted to press myself against every inch of him and find out if that warmth would spread everywhere he touched me.

Osric leaned down slowly, his eyes flickering to my lips.

But before anything could happen, a shadow fell between us.

I knew it was Alaric before I even looked.

He was also in a black suit, but where his twin looked effortlessly charming, Alaric looked severe and commanding. His gaze on us was cold and sharp enough to cut glass.

"That's enough," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

"What the fuck do you want?" Osric growled under his breath, straightening, his jaw tightening. "You're interrupting."

"You do realize we're surrounded by people, don't you?" Alaric replied coldly, his eyes flicking to the crowd. "Most of them visitors. You're the center of attention tonight, and every single thing we do is being scrutinized."

I stepped back quickly, smoothing my dress with trembling hands and trying to calm my racing pulse. 

But both of their wolves were pressing against the air between us like heat waves, so much power rolling off them that the crystals in the chandelier above us began to tremble and chime.

"Don't do this here," I whispered warningly.

Neither of them listened.

Osric's lips curved into a slow, mocking smirk. "If you wanted to dance with her, brother, you could have just asked," he drawled.

Alaric's eyes darkened. "I'm not here to play your games," he said flatly. Then he reached for my hand, his grip rougher and hotter than Osric's had been. "Come with me."

My stomach twisted. "Alaric, stop—" I started.

"Well, well," a smooth, familiar voice drawled behind me, slicing through the tension like a blade wrapped in silk. "If I didn't know better, I'd say I just walked into a family soap opera."

I knew that voice.

I turned, and my mouth fell open in shock. "Magnus?"