Chapter 33 A Stolen Dance
I stood near the edge of the ballroom, sipping the champagne Darius had handed me earlier, my eyes wandering around the extravagant scene. The live orchestra that sat on a platform played beautifully their music filling the air. The elegance was overwhelming, each detail meticulously arranged to impress the noble guests that filled the space. Everything felt surreal, as if I were watching from outside my body. I looked at the throne that sat on another high platform and imagined Darius sitting there.
Darius was engrossed in conversation with a group of men, business, no doubt, judging by their serious expressions and clipped tones and mention of market margins. His attention was elsewhere, so I took a moment to let my guard down, allowing myself to take in the beauty of the party.
“Mind if I steal you for a dance?” A familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I looked up to find Faruk standing before me, a mischievous grin on his face he had changed into a stunning black suit. He was holding out his hand, his golden hair gleaming under the moonlight. I hesitated for a moment, glancing toward Darius, who was still deep in conversation with the men.
Faruk chuckled softly, lowering his hand. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be furious, but that’s the fun part, isn’t it?”
I bit my lip, the thought of making Darius jealous suddenly appealing. here was a small opportunity to push back, to remind him that I wasn’t completely under his thumb of course I was going to take it. I set my glass down onto the tray of a passing waiter and took Faruk’s hand, feeling a spark of rebellion ignite inside me.
As we moved toward the center of the ballroom, the music shifted, a soft, slow waltz filling the air. The crowd parted as we approached, their eyes following us as we stepped onto the dance floor. Faruk turned to face me, his hand resting lightly on my waist, his other hand holding mine as he guided me into position.
“I don’t know how to ballroom dance,” I admitted quietly, feeling a bit out of place.
He smiled down at me, his grip firm but not forceful. “Just follow my lead,” he said confidently, and before I could protest further, he began to move.
At first, I stumbled, my steps awkward as I tried to keep up with his graceful movements. But as we danced, something surprising happened, I started to relax. Faruk was a patient guide, his steps smooth and deliberate, and I found myself slowly falling into rhythm with him.
“You’re not so bad at this,” he said with a grin.
I smiled back, feeling a rare moment of lightness wash over me. It was strange, enjoying this moment in the midst of all the chaos that had consumed my life.
But, of course, it didn’t last. In a moment of distraction, I stepped on his foot, my heel digging into his polished shoe. I gasped, horrified, but before I could apologize, he winced dramatically and muttered, “I regret giving you that compliment.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound escaping me before I could stop it. Faruk joined in, and for a fleeting second, I forgot everything, Darius, Fred, the guilt, the uncertainty. I just... laughed.
The moment was brief. The music swelled, and other couples began to join us on the dance floor, twirling around in a blur of silk and diamonds. The dance floor became a whirlwind of shifting partners, as tradition in ballroom dances often called for. I found myself spinning from one set of arms to another, the faces of unfamiliar men and women blurring together as the music carried me along. And then, suddenly, I was in his arms.
Darius.
His grip on my waist was tighter than that of Faruk had been, possessive. His eyes darkened as he gazed down at me, and I could feel the anger simmering beneath his calm façade. He didn’t speak at first, just pulled me close, guiding me through the steps with a precision that felt less like dancing and more like control.
“I don’t like seeing you in another man’s arms,” he finally said, his voice low and edged with jealousy. “Even if it’s my brother.”
His words were cold, and I could feel the tension building between us. He was furious, but I didn’t care. In fact, his anger fueled my own. I had spent too long being silent, too long letting him dictate my every move. Tonight, I wanted to push back.
“You may have claimed me, Darius,” I whispered, my voice shaking with defiance, “but I will never accept you as my mate.”
His eyes flared with somethin, rage, hurt, I couldn’t tell. But whatever it was, it made him tighten his grip on me even more, his hand digging into my waist as he pulled me closer. For a moment, I thought he might say something cruel or threaten me with Fred’s whereabouts. But instead, he said nothing. His jaw clenched, and without warning, he pulled me off the dance floor.
I stumbled slightly as he led me away from the party, his pace quick and determined. My heart pounded in my chest, fear and anger swirling inside me as I tried to keep up with him. The guests watched us go, their curious gazes following our every move.
Darius didn’t stop until we were far from the ballroom, deep within the hallway where the music was nothing but a distant hum. He let go of my arm and turned to face me, his eyes blazing with fury.
“You think you can defy me?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You think dancing with my brother will change anything?”
I stood my ground, my hands trembling at my sides. “I’m not yours,” I spat, my voice shaking but strong. “I’ll never be yours. You murderer!”
For a moment, he just stared at me, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breaths. The tension between us crackled like electricity, and I braced myself for his next move. But instead of lashing out, he stepped closer, his expression darkening.
“You are mine,Lyra,” he said, his voice soft but laced with threat. “You belong to me, whether you accept it or not. And I will not tolerate you flaunting yourself in front of others, especially my brother.”
My heart raced as he stepped even closer, his body towering over mine. “If you think you can escape this, you’re wrong,” he continued, his voice a low growl. “You belong to me, and I will make sure you never forget that.”
I glared up at him, refusing to back down. “I don’t care how many times you say it, Darius,” I shot back. “I will never love you. Never. Your hands are tainted with my father's blood”
Something flickered in his eyes,something dangerous. He reached out, grabbing my wrist, pulling me close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin.