abdominal muscles that looked as dull and dead as the stone
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KAILIN GOW
they resembled – but a powerful, dynamic thing, full of force
and vigor. His power came not from hours at the gym, but
from something more. Something deeper.
It was the sight of this powerful body, so animal in
its strength, so alluring in its sexuality that made me hesitate
a moment before trying to get away. And this moment was
all the man needed. In a single movement, he bounded over,
taking my hands in his.
In that instant, I felt a sudden spark, mingled with
confusion. The strange feeling that had taken over my blood
earlier seemed to rise up again, stronger this time, as if I were
in the very heart of the flames themselves. I jumped back,
surprised at my own reaction. But as I looked at the dancer,
I felt not strangeness but familiarity – as if I knew this figure,
knew his touch, knew how it felt to be worshipped by his his
tongue, his hands, and his body as he made love to me over
and over again. Had we met before? Certainly not – I had
only been in Aeros a couple of days. But something about
the way his fingers held mine...
No, I was being silly, I told myself. It was just
exhaustion; that was all.
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Princes of Paradise (M.A.G.E. #1 )
“I should go,” I said. “I'm tired...”
But the dancer would have none of it. He grabbed
hold of my wrists and pulled me roughly into the circle,
moving his hips in time with the music. I watched with
amazement. Most guys I knew limited their experience of
dancing to a reluctant grind or two to an R&B song, but this
was different. This boy seemed totally in sync with the
music, his body connecting with the force of the rhythm, the
magic overtaking him. He wasn't just dancing; he was
making the music with his body, taking part in creating it,
his hips grinding so erotically to the rhythm, it felt as though
he was making love to me with his dance.
And I was moving with him. Even as I felt myself
resist, I knew it was too late. My body was swaying back and
forth in time with his. I could smell the sweat on him, his
fierce animal musk. Our bodies were so close together that I
could feel his hot breath on my face. As he held me close,
his body pulsing with the beat, I looked up into his mask and
saw two shimmering eyes filled with desire, brilliant and
blue like the sunlit sky, eyes that seemed to bear deep into
me, finding me out, knowing all my secrets. His gaze
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KAILIN GOW
frightened me. Could he see that deep, I wondered? Did he
know about the fire – about how close I had come to walking
straight in? About that feeling of connectedness – with the
flame, with the music, with this place – that had come over
me, that was now stronger than it ever had been before?
I had to break this spell. I had to come back to my
senses. I tried desperately to make conversation, hoping that
talking to this mysterious figure, having something as stupid
and banal as cocktail-party small talk, would break the
power that the flame had over me, that his hot sweaty body
had over me, making me clench with desire as his skin
touched mine, and his hips with his hardness came
dangerously close to my aching crotch.
“So, uh, do these happen all the time?” I asked,
feeling foolish as soon as I said it.
“Me having a hard-on while I dance on stage? No,
not often,” his husky voice said, almost mockingly.
Embarrassed, I stammered, “No, these dances.”
Again his tone was bored, defiant, like he was angry
about something. “The hotel puts these on, if that's what you
mean.” The voice was not what I had expected. It was light,
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Princes of Paradise (M.A.G.E. #1 )
almost dismissive – certainly not American. The accent was
tinged with the trace of something foreign, although where
the dancer was from I could not make out. “You know, for
the tourists.” It sounded like he was scoffing. “The
hospitality trade and all that.”
I took a step back, hurt. If this dancer was going to
make me dance with him, the least he could do, I reasoned,
was be a bit politer about those of us dragged into the circle.
“But it must be fun,” I tried again.
I heard a snort from behind the mask. “If you're an
outsider, I guess it's all bright and shiny to you.”
I pulled away, stung. “Well, I am an outsider,” I said
hotly, anger rising in my face. “And I do find it fun! And if
you don't, I don't see why you bothered asking me to dance.”
“It's not like I had a choice,” said the dancer roughly.
“Well, nobody's making you now!” I crossed my
arms, bringing the swaying to a screeching halt. “You can go
home if you want. If you're too good for dancing.”
“Not if Antonio Cutter has his way.” The boy gave a
bitter laugh.
“What are you talking about?”
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“Nothing,” he said harshly. “Let's dance. Come on –
you're too stiff. You're trying too hard.”
“Me? I'm...”
“You need to go with it. Close your eyes. Stay calm
–
