Dance Of Thieves Novels & Stories

An absolute traitor and I was going to have a very serious conversation with my nervous system later. As Riven's other hand caught mine, locking our fingers together and hauling our joined hands high between us, the violins screeched a dark, low accent. The dance had started and the asshole moved. There wasn't a single ounce of hesitation in him. Riven stepped forward like he owned the ballroom, the floor, the music, and possibly the entire concept of dancing itself. He drove his right thigh straight between my legs, forcing my knees apart and expanding my stance with a brutal authority.

She giggled and waved for other dancers to continue, before long everyone was dancing and groping each other. I turned and saw Valerian dancing with both his girlfriends, Thalia and Shira. How in this world is Valerian going to manage being married to two women. Strangely, Marita was dancing with Theodrin in a seductive way that looked more sexual than a normal dance. I saw Verin dancing with Dyelin, my Mistress of Spy but it seemed like Dyelin had something up her arse with the way she was moving. "You want to get out of here?" I suckled Isabel's earlobe and whispered.

Crystal said, “What if she’s some sort of undead?” “I don’t know...” Walker shook his head, “Get back to Dante as soon as possible. They’re going to start the dance soon.” The dance—almost like an insane version of musical chairs. A person danced and danced with different people for a duration of a song—typically about five minutes—and then, somehow, whoever they’re standing in front of when the song ends is who their mate is. “It’s almost time..” Walker whispered as Jadis and a few of the other witches zeroed in on the elders who were still seated and emotionless at their table on the stage—none of them masked, but they were in their gaudy robes.

I'll handle Tristan! I smiled and nodded. That very evening, she summoned Tristan home. I had hired an actor to play the part of a lawyer, complete with stacks of forged documents. Drunk on greed, Tristan signed every page without reading a single one—never noticing the divorce papers cleverly mixed into the stack. The moment his pen hit the final page, I felt invisible chains shatter inside me. A surge of power, warm and potent, flooded my veins, strengthening my body and sharpening my mind.

For love is fierce when bonds run deep, And dragon hearts no cage can keep. Let kingdoms fall and empires break, The Dragon Thief will rise, awake. Ryuki ‘Feeling smug, are we?’ Bynjym asks me. ‘Says the dragon who is currently wrapped around his queen,’ I retort. 'I’d say my plan worked.’ ‘YOUR plan? What plan was that?’ I ask.

Of course nothing was settled in the many minutes that followed. Wine flowed. Plates clattered. Then the dancers arrived. A break of some sort. A dozen vampire courtesans swept across the marble floor, veiled in silks the color of bruised roses. Their movements were as fluid as falling water, their steps a practiced seduction designed to mesmerize. And beneath the beauty—something sharp. Predatory. Terrifying. They didn't dance as unbridled as the wolves in Vargrheim. Every dance I'd ever been to was filled with energy and madness to the drum beats.

She nodded wordlessly, lifting her foot as he clasped the bracelet around her ankle with reverent fingers. “I love it,” she whispered. “And I love you.” Just as the stars began to blink into view, fire dancers appeared like shadows from the edges of the sandbank. Barefoot, bronze-skinned, and radiant with flame, they spun and twirled to the beat of soft tribal drums, their torches painting the night with trails of gold. Katherine leaned into Kingsley’s arms as they watched, the sapphire on her ankle catching each flash of light. The performance was fierce, hypnotic, and primal—ending in a burst of flame that disappeared into darkness.

“Get the pack dancers up here. Now.” He nodded quickly and scurried off, knowing better than to question me when my tone carried that edge. I took another drag, the smoke trailing upward into the starry sky as I waited. Soon, the soft patter of bare feet against stone announced their arrival. Five women, draped in flowing silks that shimmered in the torchlight, stepped onto the loft. Their hair was adorned with beads that clinked faintly as they moved, and their eyes—nervous but obedient—darted toward me before they began. The lead dancer, a tall brunette with a sway-like liquid, started the rhythm with a clap, and the others followed, their bodies twisting and spinning in sync.

Logic be damned, all they saw was red. “You’re not a Justicar,” said one of them. “You’re just a traitor. So you can stuff your violation right back up your tail.” They then drew their beltknives and began to surround her with careful steps. Doleth eyed all of them, then snorted in derision. She didn’t wait for them to completely surround her, and instead leapt towards the nearest Drogar. Fire was in her eyes as she stepped into her dance. Her blade lashed out against her target as she spun into range. Her speed and grace was far beyond his, to the point where he didn’t even have the capacity to raise his blade to protect himself.

She flicked her wrist and her knife materialized, flashing the moment light hit its stainless blade. Elena’s voice was low, dangerously calm. “I won’t be your spy, Vincent.” She turned away from him. Vincent’s hand shot out again, this time gripping her wrist so tightly she could feel her pulse pounding against his fingers. "You don’t have a choice, Elena. You’ll do what I say, or I’ll make sure you regret it. I bet Lorenzo would be thrilled to know who the thief was that infiltrated his house and stabbed him." Elena yanked her wrist free. “You’re pathetic. Lorenzo is an underworld prince, but so are you and yet you resort to cheap tactics to fight a war that is clearly happening in your hea