The Deaths of Me (NEW ADULT REWORK)

18. Dane's Great Charm

"Actually, I'm Dane, sir."

Kellan laughed and shook his head. "Of course you are. The name suits you better." Dane couldn't tell if he was supposed to be flattered or offended.

"Excuse me," Rory piped from behind him. Dane kept his eyes on the man; he couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more protective. "I'm sorry for asking, but what kind of Underdweller are you?"

The man laughed again and lightly tapped his forehead as if he'd forgotten an item at the grocery store. "Oh, dear lady, the fault is mine. I am a Sasquatch."

Dane's jaw dropped in awe; he saw Rory's do the same. "You exist?" he asked, struggling to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

The Sasquatch nodded and chuckled good-naturedly. "Last I checked."

"You're much more...clean cut than I expected you to be," Rory said. She pushed past Dane's hold toward Kellan.

"Since the invention of the body-waxing salon, the number of times I've heard that has increased exponentially."

Rory burst into a light laugh, and Dane struggled not to get caught up in it. That was the problem with being a lycan. Even when he was in his human form, his wolf senses were always on. He heard every hitch in her breathless laugh. He smelled every hint of smoke on her skin. It was hard enough to keep an appropriate distance so that he didn't get himself killed without forcing his wolf side to resist her, too.

"I have so many questions," she said, resting a hand on Kellan's arm. "I've only read about demi-giants." Her smile was too bright. He found it impossible to look at for long. On the ride up to the palace, Rory had been all but asleep, but now she was vibrant and present.

"I would love to answer all of your questions, phoenix—"

"Rory," she corrected.

"Miss Rory," he continued with a smile, "But first, I should pay my respects to Queen Cayleigh for inviting me to what is proving to be a most auspicious night." What was he going on about, anyway? Whatever it was, Dane did not like the way he looked at Rory. The Sasquatch excused himself, blending into the crowd impressively well for someone his size.

When he told Rory this, she nodded excitedly.

"Sasquatches are amazingly good hiders. Out of a community of eight thousand, only seven have ever been caught on video." Dane beamed as Rory slid her arm into the crook of his.

"Is that so?"

He listened as she rambled on about the evolution of 'the missing link', and how her uncle had traced a family of them all the way to Colorado, only to lose track of them in a snowstorm. She was becoming more and more animated as they strolled through the throngs of Underdwellers. The attention she continued to draw from them didn't seem to bother her as much as it had only minutes ago.

"Feeling better?" he inferred, as he untangled their arms so he could move his hand to the small of her back. She nodded absently, her eyes occupied with the room ahead of them. They'd arrived at the ballroom where couples in flowery dress spun in dizzying circles across a glass floor. He could see the Chattahoochee River surge beneath them in all its dark green power.

"I think this is the part where we dance," he murmured against her ear. If there had been any tiredness on her face before, it had vanished. Now there was nothing but alert curiosity. Gently, he guided her out to the edge of the dance floor where pairs dipped and leapt past them with large smiles on their faces. "Don't be nervous. It's a pretty slow song so—"

Dane was cut off by the mild whiplash he experienced as Rory jerked him into the middle of the clear span of the glass floor. He laughed and tried to keep up with her. The second they were in a spot that allowed an adequate amount of space, Rory dragged him close. Not that he was complaining, of course. One of her hot hands settled on his shoulder, the other gathered his.