“When you’ve got too much to say and no one to fucking say it to, this is what it becomes,” I mutter, jaw twitching. “It’s just chaos bleeding out. Nonsense. Better out than festering.”
She stares at one of the phrases, her smile faltering.
“So it helps?” she asks low.
I let out a breath, eyes heavy. “It eases the heaviness of unspoken words, maybe, and it just stops the urge of carving it into someone else instead.”
Her eyes flash to mine, and her smile returns before she leans forward, pressing a kiss to my lips, then climbs off me.
“I’m gonna shower, then head to the Cirque for the day,” she says while grabbing my hoodie, pulling it over her naked body. “I’ll see you later?”
I give a small nod, eyes fixed on the curve of her ass as she walks toward the door.
“Get some sleep or something,” she says with a soft smirk over her shoulder before slipping out and closing the door behind her.
Silence swells heavy and suffocating in her wake.
And all I can think about is Valen. About what I’ll do to him if he ever lays a fucking hand on her again. Godfather or not, I’ll snap his brittle body like dry bone and grind him into meat.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aurelia
Training with Blush and Noir, I stand in my pointes, gripping a gold hoop above me, poised like a ballerina.
“Yes, girl, you’re getting it,” Noir says behind me, her hands steady on my hips.
It’s late, but I’ve been pushing hard, determined to perfect my form after Noir’s incredible performance on Dark Night.
When she lets go, I lower myself and release the hoop.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving,” Blush says, a yawn slipping out with her words. I think about what we did last night, all four of us, how crazy shit got, but how it hasn’t changed a thing in our friendship or made things awkward. Blush just said she had a great time and thanked me.
“Why don’t you two head back?” I offer. “I’m only staying another half hour.”
“You sure?” Noir asks, her brow raised. “You’ve worked really hard tonight.”
“I’m good, I promise,” I nod. “I won’t be long.”
They exchange glances, then finally agree, leaving the Cirque quietly behind them.
As the tent settles into silence, I return to training. Dancing beneath the spotlight, I move with purpose, letting the music in my head guide me. Each motion is deliberate, toes pointed at every chance, grace flowing through every limb.
Suddenly, a woman clears her throat behind me, and I freeze before slowly turning around.
“Madame,” I say breathlessly. “What are you doing here so late?”
“Darling, this is my Cirque. I can stay as late as I please,” she responds calmly.
I nod, and her dark gaze sweeps over me.
“Ballet?” she asks, gesturing to my shoes.
I glance down. “I’m trying,” I sigh, then meet her eyes again. She just stares.
“We’ve never had a ballerina here before.”
“Never?” I ask, brow raised.