Light Up The Night: a Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy Romance (Lick of Fire Book 2) by Jacqueline Sweet

Author:Jacqueline Sweet [Sweet, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Guilty Treasures Press
Published: 2018-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

34

The Night Belongs to Lovers

If Hearthhome’s exterior was magical, the inside looked like Versailles on acid.

An enormous ballroom, larger than most stadiums, greeted Tamsin and her protectors.

Every surface was either gold or mirrors or encrusted with jewels. A hundred thousand candles filled the air. Fluted columns rose so high that the ceiling could not even be seen. Flocks of golden songbirds flitted from place to place, filling the air with the most beautiful of songs.

Near the entrance, mountains of fresh fruit were piled to be prepared by an army of masked servants.

It was too much. Everything was too much.

Diamonds the size of disco balls floated in complex paths above the dance floor, reflecting the candle lights in every direction. To call the effect dazzling would have been an understatement. It was mesmerizing. Hypnotic.

And under the lights and the jewels and the birds, were the people. There were thousands of people all dressed at least as well as Tamsin’s squad. She couldn’t recognize any of them. She knew Rachel and Suresh were here somewhere, as well as the other first years from her classes. But the mask’s concealment effect made recognition impossible.

It was supposed to be freeing, but Tamsin found it disorienting.

“For a dance, not many people are dancing,” Cash muttered.

“Is that an invitation?” Gray asked.

“Sure, why not?”

The two men made their way to the center of the floor, where only a handful of couples were dancing.

“Is Cash gay?” Rye asked.

“I have no idea,” Tamsin replied. “Is Gray?”

Rye shrugged. “I don’t understand Gray in the slightest. I’m not sure labels apply to him.”

“Do they apply to us anymore?” Tamsin asked.

“A few do,” Rye said. “Students. Lovers. Fighters.”

“Desperate. Hopeless,” Tamsin added.

“Hopeless? No, koshka. I am hopeful. We have already beaten a demon this week and cheated death. We are on a roll.”

At one end of the dance floor, an orchestra played. Gray and Cash glided across the floor in some very old dance that involved quite a bit of clapping.

“How does Cash know this dance?” Rye asked.

“It’s the masks. They sort of take over and move you through the motions?”

Rye grimaced. “I do not think I would like that. Why not just dance ourselves?”

Tamsin did her best impression of Gray. “Is that an invitation?”

“Sure, why not?” Rye did an impression of Cash, but he sounded like a cowboy.

They moved down to the floor and as soon as they got in range of the orchestra, the masks too over. Rye didn’t seem happy about it, but to Tamsin it was a delight. Her feet moved like butterflies across the floor, even in her heels. How much practice would it take to dance like this without magic? A lifetime?

She laughed and spun and clapped and one dance effortlessly changed into the next. She switched partners and danced with Cash and then Gray and then someone else, and someone else.

This was part of the magic, she realized—part of the plan of the dance. As the songs continued the dances grew more raucous and Tamsin saw her protectors only rarely, across the dance floor.

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