Incarnate

The light shifted, and so did something in his eyes. Decision. One that made him lean away from me, and lower his gaze.

“Sam?” I turned away as my vision blurred. “You think too much.”

“I know.”

Chapter 11 Dance

WE STOOD IN the middle of the kitchen without speaking for what seemed like eons. The stinging in my eyes kept me staring at the coffee cups on the table, steam rising, and he probably knew it. If he’d had any decency, he’d excuse himself to use the washroom or something, give me a chance to beat my embarrassment into submission.

I’d thought— Well, with the way he’d touched my arm last night, I’d thought this was my chance to find out whether he saw me as more than a butterfly.

Maybe I already had.

The front door opened and closed, and footsteps sounded through the parlor. Quickly, I chafed my fingertips under my eyes. Stupid tears. Stupid Sam. I could still feel echoes of his hands on my hips.

“Dossam?” A melodic, feminine voice came from the parlor, and she stopped in the doorway. Tall, slim, with perfect blond hair that framed her suntanned face. An ankle-length dress clung to her curves, making me extra aware of how my dress didn’t fit me right in the bust and waist. “I’d heard you came back early, and with a friend.” Her smile glanced off me and hit Sam as she sauntered into the kitchen, synthetic silk swishing around her legs.

He hugged her and kissed her cheek like nothing had just happened. Almost happened. No, actually, nothing had happened. “Stef, this is Ana.”

She was older than us, with a delicate web of lines around her eyes and mouth from years of smiling. My cheeks burned from thinking about kissing him earlier, and the easy way he stood beside her now. They made a gorgeous pair.

“Hello,” I managed. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Sam’s best friend, creator of the SED and other electronics, and well-beloved troublemaker who spent a fair amount of time picking prison locks after the latest hijinks gone wrong. It might be wrong to hate Stef because she was a woman this time around, but seeing Sam embrace her like he wouldn’t me—

I didn’t care.

Before I could stop her, she’d wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek, too. “Is something wrong, dear? You’re a little red around the eyes.”

“No, nothing. Just a long night.” I retreated toward my coffee. The kitchen had suddenly shrunk. Stef’s presence filled the room, leaving no space for anyone else.

“I bet I know.” Stef glided toward the cupboard and coffeepot to help herself. “Did Sam step on your foot?”

“What?”

She winked at me. “I have stories to tell you, Ana. All the times he stepped on my feet? You’ll either get used to Sam’s gracelessness, or give up dancing altogether.”

Sam echoed my question. “What are you talking about?”

“You were teaching her how to dance, weren’t you? Isn’t that why you were both standing in the middle of the kitchen while your coffee gets cold?” She took a sip from her mug, eyebrows raised. “I assumed this had something to do with Tera and Ash’s rededication coming up.”

“Oh, that. Right.” Sam slid back into his chair with his coffee. Dark hair half covered his eyes, and he had to shake his head to clear his vision. “Just a few weeks.”

Stef gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Yes. Which is why you were teaching Ana to dance. But clearly you were doing a terrible job. Look at her!”

They both looked at me.

I avoided Sam’s eyes. “It’s not his fault.” It was definitely his fault, but I had to lie because I didn’t actually know what kind of dancer he was. “I couldn’t do it right. My feet and head aren’t connected.”

Stef laughed and set her coffee on the counter again. “Of course they are. You just need the right teacher. Now, what was he trying to teach you?”

As if I had the smallest clue.

“Ah, I can see Sam didn’t even bother to tell you.” She winked again and turned to him. “Darling, go play some music. We’ll figure it out.”

He took one last drink of his coffee before abandoning it. “Be careful with her hands. They’re still healing.”

She took my wrist so quickly I didn’t have time to back away; her hands were smooth and cool, unlike mine, which felt sweaty. “So they are. Don’t worry, Dossam, I’ll be careful with her.” And then, when Sam left the room, she leaned close and murmured, “Don’t let him break your heart, sweetie. He never settles.”

Before I could get more than a word out—“What?”—Sam began playing, and Stef swept me across the kitchen. For someone so lithe, she was strong.

“First thing,” Stef said over the piano, “is to relax. You’re doing this to have fun, not hurt yourself.”

The song was one I’d heard a recording of in Sam’s cabin, so when Stef said to step on the beat, I knew which one she meant. When she said twirl here, and demonstrated, I mimicked that too. Music filled the house, and the lightning-fast notes made me want to dance. I did everything Stef did, and when I did it incorrectly, she took my arms and placed them where they should be, or nudged my foot with hers.

When the first piece ended, Sam went right into the next. It was fast, too, but the beats came at different times from the first.

“Count,” Stef said. “One, two, three. No four. Not on this one.”

Connections snapped in my head, and when I tried to mimic her movements, my body obeyed. Hips, arms, legs. Step here, here, and here. Giddiness surged through me as we finished the dance and she called for him to do that one again.

“Do you remember it?” She grinned as the music began. “You can do this dance for any song with this beat. Simply adjust to the tempo. Ready?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, just started dancing, every motion fluid but precise. Hair whipped around as I followed her, flashes of blond and red in the corners of my vision. My body remembered what to do, how to move to this song. Our dresses flared as we spun and circled each other. It was hard to be angry or jealous like this. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.

When the music ended, I was sweaty and breathing hard, but smiling. Stef looked smug.

“Now what?” Sam peered in from the other room, his expression carefully blank as he watched us. “Another one?”

Stef glanced at me as she smoothed back her hair; she wasn’t even sweating. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll come back tomorrow, so clear space in the parlor, because the kitchen is no place to dance. We’ll try a different one. Slower maybe. It’s a dedication of souls, you know. It won’t be all spinning around until you can’t stand up. Ana might find someone nice to dance with.”

“Hmm.” Sam returned to the kitchen, still not looking at me.

I took several deep breaths before sitting again, letting the dance-induced euphoria leak out. “What’s a dedication of souls?”

“Ah, leave it to Sam to forget to explain.” She kept up the charade, though I was certain we all knew she getting revenge for something. For what she’d walked in on earlier? “Some people believe souls were made as matching pairs. It can take time for them to realize or grow into their roles as lovers, but eventually the matches find each other. They dedicate their souls to each other for every life. And because everyone likes a party, they rededicate every time they’re reborn.”

“That’s really sweet.” I took a drink of my cold coffee, trying to imagine loving someone so much I’d want to spend thousands of years with them.