Serenade: A Paranormal Fantasy Mystery (The Dark Nocturne Book 1) by Morgan Shamy

Author:Morgan Shamy [Shamy, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2022-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

November waited inside the dusty studio at the school, staring at the door, willing Cam to walk in. They were supposed to practice that day, yet he was nowhere to be found. She stared at the entryway for a long time, until she shuffled her feet over the floor, marking a few of the steps that she had learned yesterday. The Cha Cha. The Rumba. The Salsa. She easily recalled all of the steps, but she didn’t feel the overwhelming warmth that overcame her when she danced with Cam. She glanced to the doorway again. Nothing was around her but a few wooden chairs that reflected in the old mirror.

The longer she waited, the more convinced she was that he wouldn’t show. A heaviness settled in her chest, that sunk into her stomach. Stupidity began to sweep through her. She was waiting like a fool—waiting like a lovesick girl being dumped by her boyfriend. She had gotten her hopes up—thinking her and Cam had a connection through dance, that he was just as excited to dance with her as she had him—but that clearly wasn’t the case.

The vision of Cam acting strange at the end of their lesson yesterday came to mind. He’d left so abruptly, not answering her when she asked if they could rehearse later that night—maybe it was because he didn’t want to rehearse with her at all. Maybe the experience yesterday with teaching her had been so revolting, he couldn’t stand spending another day with her.

Her stomach sunk deeper.

This was why she didn’t allow herself to be connected with anyone. This was why she preferred being alone. Connecting meant hurting. Connecting meant opening yourself up to heartache. She’d learned that with her parents and Shawn.

She could do this on her own, she told herself. She didn’t need Cam.

She wasn’t going to wait here like a fool. If she wanted to dance, she was going to dance. She didn’t need a boy to do so.

She faced the mirror head on, remembering how she had danced that first night back at the Huntington manor. She had danced alone then, and the power had been overwhelming. She knew she could find that feeling again—that she could tap into that warmth that overcame her. It had to be the way to opening up the veil.

November closed her eyes, soaking in the silence. She waited for a time, letting all the toxic thoughts leave her body. She knew how to create that peaceful space in her head from therapy and meditation. She’d had to learn it for her condition; if she hadn’t, the disease would control her.

She waited until all her anger and stupidity had washed through her, then she slowly opened her eyes. It was just her and the rusty mirror. She slowly brought her arms upward, letting her wrists guide the way, her fingers separated and delicate. They moved through the space almost hypnotizing, filling the air around her.

She didn’t want to dance a specific genre of dance—she wanted to move for herself.

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