Chapter Thirteen

Ivan had been involved in drawn-out gun battles that left him less on edge than the Reyes ballroom.

A gun battle might have been welcome, honestly. He knew what to do in a gun battle. Cover Maricela’s body with his own, get her to safety, fight back. He longed for a tangible enemy with an actionable solution. Smacking Gabe’s brother into a wall had been the least frustrating part of his night so far.

But Ivan couldn’t fight the demons plaguing Maricela. He couldn’t march over to where she endured Gabe’s father’s chatter with an increasingly fixed smile and drag him off her and into a wall. It didn’t matter that he was watching something bright inside her die a little more with every dance--she was a Rios. She would willingly martyr her happiness, then be angry with herself for feeling a moment’s resentment over the loss.

He was starting to wonder if Maricela could even see the bars on her cage. How could she? She’d grown up trapped inside them, so carefully sheltered she rarely glimpsed the outside world.

Each dance she endured only strengthened his desire to rip open those bars and drag her out into the real world, even if it was only for a night. Just to see freedom, so she could understand the depth of her sacrifice. Maybe then she’d stop punishing herself.

Or maybe it would be a singular cruelty, to show her a world she would never be allowed to touch.

By the time the dance ended, a queue of hopeful men and women had already formed. But Maricela excused herself from the knot of potential partners and turned toward Ivan.

At first, he thought she was finally taking a break. But her gaze clashed with his as she moved toward him with purpose, and he knew. All the other Riders had taken their turn spinning her around the dance floor, but he’d stayed carefully on the sidelines where he wouldn’t be the focus of everyone’s attention.

Ivan didn’t know if he could dance with Maricela without giving his feelings away.

She held out her hand boldly, though her words acknowledged his hesitation. “You can’t say no. Just this once, I’m pulling rank.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Dance with me, Ivan.”

He clasped her hand, the contact shocking in its directness. After so many glancing brushes of skin, it felt almost obscene to hold her hand so openly. The feeling intensified when they reached the floor and he dropped his hand to the spot where her waist flared into her hip. The beading on her dress abraded his palm, and the floral scent she was wearing filled his senses.

This close, she had to tilt her head back slightly to meet his eyes. Hers were big and brown, soft with desire and want. She was as dizzy with it as he was, and Ivan wasn’t sure how they’d manage a dance like this. He could barely remember the steps Gabe had taught him.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied just as quietly. “I might step on your feet. Zeke’s a mess, and he’s still better than I am.”

“You exaggerate.” Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to be less than graceful.”

The music started, and he stepped to the right, torn between the need to concentrate on his footing and the fact that he could feel each individual fingertip pressing into his shoulder. “It’s a different kind of grace.”

“No.” She moved with him, as naturally as breathing. “Don’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“What to do.”

He did. He was so attuned to her touch that she barely had to lead. The slightest pressure on his shoulder guided him to one side, the faintest squeeze of his hand to the other. Moving with her was effortless, because he’d been watching her for weeks. He’d memorized her gestures, her movements, her breathing. He’d grown an entire set of nerves that answered only to her.

His guilty, furtive imagination hadn’t done the fantasy of sex with her justice. If they moved like this through the steps of a dance he didn’t know, how would they move together at one he’d mastered?

Not something he could afford to ponder with the eyes of all the most powerful people in the sector glued to them. This tuxedo fit him a little too well, and he doubted it would hide a punishing erection.

Maricela’s gaze roamed over his face. “You’re frowning.”

If he was, it was only with the effort to keep from doing the opposite. “That’s just my face.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t tease me. I consider it an unavoidable challenge.”

“Maybe that’s why I do it,” he countered.

“Because you want to be teased back?” Her head tilted to one side as she considered that. “How curious.”

It wasn’t something he would have put into words, but it made sense. The only people who’d ever teased him were fellow Riders. “You tease people you care about.”

Her eyes widened, and her fingers clenched around his. “Ivan...”

Too far. He’d taken it too far, and he didn’t know how to pull back. The whole night felt surreal. With the champagne and the music and the glittering lights and this ridiculous tuxedo, he might as well be a different person. One who was allowed to twirl Maricela through the steps of a dance and smile at her. “Shh. We’re dancing.”

She returned his smile, and neither of them talked as they moved with the music. The silence was heavy, but instead of being awkward, it just felt full--of pleasure, of longing.

Of all the things they weren’t saying.

Ivan was starting to like dancing.

But a commotion was sweeping through the crowd, mutters and gasps so obtrusive that he couldn’t ignore them. A few of the couples stopped dancing altogether and drifted to the edges of the ballroom.

Maricela squeezed his hand again. “What in the world--?”

A scream from the other side of the room cut off her baffled question, and Ivan reacted on instinct. Within moments, he had her off the dance floor, his body between hers and the source of the disruption. Zeke and Reyes pushed through the crowd toward them, and Ivan steered Maricela in their direction. “What’s going on?”

Reyes caught his shoulder. “Get her out of here. Gideon’s orders.”

He reached for Maricela immediately as his brain switched gears to tactics. “What happened?”

Reyes only shook his head. “It’s not important right now. Just go.”

Maricela didn’t move. “Fernando.”

Sighing, he met Ivan’s gaze. “It’s Javier.”

Oh, God. Ivan’s stomach sank into his boots, and he regretted asking. He wanted to drag Maricela away before Reyes could speak the truth Ivan could already read in his eyes.

But the other Rider’s bleak, damning words didn’t stop. “He’s dead.”