Chapter 153 Call them off!
“That was smart.” Mordaine said as we exited the building. We'd both decided to call it even and let go of all thoughts of punishment.
“What was smart,” I bowed my head in the face of the cold. Winter used to be my second favorite season. But it seemed now, that was something else that had changed for me.
These days, I can withstand extremely low temperatures without needing a jacket, but I dislike the cold, hate it. In the face of temperatures like this one, my skin bristled as if whatever this new thing inside me was, took the cold air as a personal challenge.
I glanced sideways at the dragon to find his eyes had been pinned on me the entire time. I flushed.
“Your little slutty trick was smart,” he closed the gap between us, my breath hitched. “I want to see it again tonight. I expect you to strip for me, Lys.”
My jaw hung.
It was the way he said my name, a name he almost never used. The sound of my name in that deep voice that was so depth less it often came out in whispers, sent a shiver skating down my spine and turned my nipples to pebbles.
Someone grabbed my arm suddenly. I jumped.
“Lys. My goodness. I have called you at least a dozen times in the last quarter…”
My jaw was still hanging, my eyelid fluttering like I had just been caught stealing at a mall.
Night take me. How was I going to explain Mordaine? I had already introduced Finn to everyone as my friend. Tamar would immediately find it suspicious if I did that again, that I suddenly had all these new male friends that no one knew about.
“I…” I swallowed hard and gave it another try. “I went for a cup of coffee with my uncle,” the lie rolled smoothly from my tongue. “I must have lost track of time…”
I turned on the sidewalk to make the introductions between them, but… the space was empty. My head jerked back in surprise.
“Are you OK?” Tamar shook my arm now, real concern etched on her face. "What uncle?"
I swiveled my head back to look at her, and my eyes fell behind her shoulder. Mordaine was moving quickly with the evening crowd, far away from us now. He stood out, tall, broad shouldered, with that long hair that could be many women's envy.
“Yes,” I whispered, blinking back at Tamar's face. "I am OK."
Tamar looked unconvinced, but apparently too eager to get me ready for the event, she said nothing more as she hailed a cab and practically bundled me in for the summit arena.
The backstage was chaos.
Art directors, special effects, makeup artists, fashion designers, prop teams, assistants and messengers running around and bumping into each other. They looked sleep-deprived, running on strong coffee to keep going as they went over the final details of tonight's performance.
I felt grateful for Tamar and her assistants then. I was nowhere as exhausted as these people even though I had been performing every night for several days at this point. They handled all the heavy work and scheduling, so all I had to do was show up, get pretty and perform.
Tamar and I separated here, and I found my way to my private dressing room.
“Hello.”
“Hello.” I bobbed my head in apology to the make-up artists and hairdresser and their assistants all waiting in the room. The chief MUA was staring at my belle dress for the night, hung up on a mannequin in the room, while taking notes on her iPad.
I slid into the chair before the mirror dresser as she walked forward to transform my face with yet another dramatic eye makeup that only ballerinas dared to wear.
But a few minutes in, she looked up with a frown. “You’re hot.”
My eyes popped at the statement, at the uncomfortable looks exchanged between her and her assistants.
I hurriedly pushed up from my seat, “I'm sorry. Please excuse me.” I slipped out of the room.
I knew I should have returned to the hotel for a shower after that twenty-minute game if Tamar had not been so impatient. But I did not smell offensively, only that the makeup artists were not exaggerating. My skin really was unnaturally hot, no doubt influenced by whatever this thing in my body was.
I walked down the corridor, locked myself in the restroom, and tried to clean up and cool my skin as best as I could.
It was on my way back that I glanced outside the glass walls and frowned at an unusual sight.
Cedric Clair was standing in the courtyard, the spot further up from the creek where Finn and I had argued nights ago.
I halted and turned. Then I brought my nose closer to the glass, but I could not recognize the man he was in a deep conversation with, even though there was something familiar about him. A familiarity that made my hair stand and made it impossible for me to look away.
Cedric Claire seemed uncomfortable, his eyes scanning his surroundings every couple seconds like he was doing something wrong.
Where had I seen this man before, and why did it feel important? I tried to listen in on them, straining my wolf ears, but the sound quickly muddled up, like I was underwater.
I froze. Only Hale and Mordaine should be able to do that. Set up a hearing barrier against supernaturals.
“Lys.” An exasperated voice called. I jumped, stumbling back to the sight of Kathy standing down the corridor. “Tamar…”
“I’m sorry. I had to.” I rushed up to her. “I never left the building.”
About half an hour later, my MUA finished with my makeup, while the hairstylist pinned a wing-shaped bonnet to my hair with pearly pins. Tamar burst in with a frown.
My heart stopped.
“I know you were clear about how much you hated this, and I hate it too, I assure you. But it is out of my hands now.”
“What is out of your hands?”
“There is going to be press at your performance tonight.”
I froze, my eyes wide,
Tamar hurried forward, clutching my shoulders. “You don’t have to be distressed. Just pretend they are not there.”
I stared at her, speechless. Then I blinked and shook my head.
“I simply won’t perform.” I held a hand up and the hairstylist stepped back immediately.
“Lys.”
“Which is better, Tamar? That I bow out now with my dignity intact, or go out there and freeze up on the stage, causing Meridian House eternal embarrassment?”
“You are not one of the smaller artists littering the arena. You are headlining this thing, we cannot simply give our apologies. Not to this caliber of guests,” Tamar was saying when Coach strolled in.
She turned to him in agitation. “Talk some sense into your dancer, Vance.”
“What is there to talk about?” Coach said quietly, crossing his hands behind him. “Everyone knows we no longer permit the press near the stage after the disaster happened that night. We have our own photographers and if the images are not good enough for them, I just don’t know what to tell you, Miss Villin.”
“There will be no flashlights. It’s the flashlights you cannot stand, right?”
“That was the exact thing they said the last time.” My voice rose for the first time. "There would be no flashlights, but it was so bad that I could barely see.”
The press were obviously not the cause of my fall, but they contributed to my disorientation that night. And my trauma… I hate flashlights now and it is public knowledge. Even in the red carpets these days, they turn it off for me.
“You are supposed to be helping me, Vance,” Tamar scowled. “She has to perform, there are no….”
She paused suddenly, her eyes narrowing.
Then her eyes flashed. She spun around and dashed out of the room.
Coach and I exchanged a puzzled look. And in a second, we heard a fight break out outside.
I flew out of my seat, belting my robe tighter around me while I ran in the direction of the commotion, just as other ballerinas started to hurry out, attracted by the loud voices.
“Call them off.” Tamar was screaming at Celeste when I arrived backstage. “How can you do this to your own colleague? How can you be so cruel?”