Unholy Nights: A Twisted Christmas Anthology by Barlow Linda & Brynn Andra & Carson Carly & Albertson Alana & Dey Kara Ashley & Blanchard Nicole & Chulick Cherie

Author:Barlow, Linda & Brynn, Andra & Carson, Carly & Albertson, Alana & Dey, Kara Ashley & Blanchard, Nicole & Chulick, Cherie [Barlow, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Bolero Books LLC
Published: 2013-11-29T16:00:00+00:00

Act II Scene III

The warmth from the fire covered my body and the scent of nutmeg tickled my nostrils. My eyes opened, and took in my surroundings. It seemed I was in a cozy cottage, like the one that I had dreamt about. I was lying by the fire, Mikhail humming in the background, while snow blitzed the window.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” His eyes twinkled and he walked toward me. Without his limp.

“Good morning? What happened last night? Last I remember, I had some wine. Where are we? And oh my God! Misha—you aren’t limping at all?”

His toes straightened and he went on to demi-pointe.

My mouth dropped. Had he healed overnight? Was watching me perform truly some kind of mystical salve for his ankle? What in the hell was going on?

He lowered his feet down into fifth position, pointed his right toe to the side and then into fourth position. Then lifted his right toe into passé and executed the ten most perfect pirouettes I had ever seen.

“Misha, you’re cured! How did this happen?”

He lifted me over his head. “Yes. Thanks to your love and strength. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. But I’ve been going to this experimental physical therapy for months. I thought there was no hope. But we had a breakthrough the other week and I can dance! I’ve been limping on it purposely as to not spoil the surprise for you. But I’m cured.”

He placed me down and gave me a deep kiss. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that we would one day be able to dance again. Before I said a word, he pointed to my slippers, which I quickly put on. He turned on his iPod and played “The Waltz of the Snowflakes.”

His arms wrapped around me and we glided into the snow pas de deux. He was a much better dancer than Evan was, though it was hardly fair to compare them. Mikhail’s feet were fast and elegant, and his toes seemed to skate across the floor. When he lifted me into angel lift, I felt like I was flying. His hands knew where to touch me, where to support me and where to turn me. It was as if I was born to dance with this man.

He set me down on the floor. I jumped into his arms and he caught me.

“Misha. Oh my God! That was amazing. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to truly dance with you, be your partner. You can go back to the Cambridge Ballet. We can start a new life together. It’s a miracle.”

Mikhail didn’t say a word, but I could read his eyes. It was time. He wanted me.

He turned his iPod on to the Arabian Dance from The Nutcracker. I knew the piece, having danced it two years ago. I danced around the fire for him, teasing him and taunting him. He sat down on a sheepskin rug, seeming to enjoy the view.