Darling Dancer Novels & Stories

' I clicked send on the email, and happily invited in everything that came with my then heavy eyes- as I crawled into bed. And fell asleep almost instantly. I looked at my ringing alarm clock like it were my personal enemy, when it went off three hours after I nodded off. But knew that that wasn't going to help with anything, so I grumpily swung my legs over the side of the bed. Jumped to my feet, and loudly yawned as I stretched my tired body. I went down the hallway to take a hot shower, came back, got dressed and left the dancers' dorm. What brightened my outlook a bit was knowing that I would soon be seeing Luca.

I didn't expect him to say that at all. "How?" My voice suddenly became small. Valentin smiled deviously and I knew immediately that I had entered a tiny pickle. "You will dance for me, my personal dancer." He said, his deep voice lingering with amusement and and bit of anticipation. "Your mate and your dancer?" I asked and scoffed shaking my head in disbelief. "It's like dancing for the devil." "Whatever you say noisemaker," Valentin chuckled deeply. His chuckle made my heart skip several beats and I almost winced in pain.

“Room number?” “226,” I say, checking every door until I find it. “Here,” I sigh in relief. The door is already open. Inside, a girl with long hair is dancing on her tiptoes. When her head turns, and our eyes meet, she stops dancing to her invisible music and turns towards me. “Oh my God! You must be Mirabelle! Hi! I’m Arielle,” she greets enthusiastically. “Come in,” she grins. “Hi,” I say with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Delfina and Carma entered the gala with their arms hooked through the elbows, giggling over the fact they drank a full bottle of champagne in the limo which dropped them at the end of the red carpet they’d just walked. On the red carpet when a reporter called out Carma’s name and asked her who her companion was, Carma drunkenly held up Delfina’s hand in hers and proclaimed, “my brother’s lover. I’ve stolen her and now she’s mine!”

If there was anyone honored tonight, it was me for getting to do the only thing that ever set my soul on fire Dance. But that word… Luna. It always landed like a punch to the ribs. Not because I wasn’t proud to be Damien’s—but because the pack still saw me as nothing more than a scandal dressed in heels. Still, tonight was mine. I wouldn’t let anyone take that from me. I changed into my performance costume—a shimmering, deep red gown stitched with black crystal vines that caught every flicker of light. My midriff was bare, my skirt slit dangerously high, and my body glowed from the oils rubbed into my skin.

Frighteningly paralyzing the (seven foot tall) Makers were like sitting ducks, as the child inside the ore start to move and stretched. While she moved the ore became liquid and moved with her body slowly receding onto her skin covering her. Slowly it moved to cover her with a simple dress the color of the ore. Blinking multiple times she regained her sight and noticed the bulky muscular males in armored fabric pants who all didn't wear shirts. Though their toned chiseled torsors had peeked the child interest but when she remembered she didn't know When she was, she kept herself in check.

She could hear laughter on the other side—bright and light and full of joy. "I can give her that," she said. "I can give her the dance. But I can't promise she won't see through me." "She won't." Dante opened the door. "Because you're going to be the best dance instructor she has ever had. And for one month, you're going to pretend you're just a woman who loves to dance." He stepped aside, and Zara walked through the door. --- Amara Nwosu was even more beautiful than her photograph.

The dance floor thundered with a noisy tune, resonating with the stressed soul and encouraging indulgence. Renee watched the male strippers dancing on the T-shaped stage, each of them muscular with a chiseled chest and wearing only briefs, before pulling out stacks of dollar bills and heading over. She beckoned, and one with blond hair and blue eyes came up to her, throwing her a wink. "What's up, girl?" Renee promptly shoved a dozen dollar bills in his hands and handed him her glass, after which the stripper promptly chugged it. As he was drinking too quickly, the alcohol flowed down the corner of his lips and his chin and glistened all over his chest.

“You don’t think it’s weird that we’re literally in the same club?” Adrian ignored me, watching Dante wave a hand toward a dancer approaching the edge of the stage. My phone pinged again. Dante: I sent someone your way. I thought Adrian could use some entertainment. And hope you enjoy the distraction. Distraction? I looked up. A dancer in glittering lingerie moved toward Adrian. Her eyes were locked on him. She stopped right in front of him, smiling like she already owned his soul. “You’re Adrian, right?” she said, smiling.

This is worse than Paul’s place. “Leave it, she's not going to work out,” the guy states, and I hate that. I use her grip on my hand to pull myself up on the bar, but now I'm worried. I don't fucking dance. I stand frozen, and she leans into me. “I’m Darling. Just relax and dance, or he will throw you out and say you don’t get a job. Follow our lead, watch us.” She smiles and begins to move her hips. Am I really going to do this? I slowly watch her and copy what she does, my body relaxing as I dance. As the song finishes, they hop down from the bar and help me.