My Fated Mate Can Have Her-Chapter 212: First Steps

Violet

I woke to the soft blue glow of the pool.

The light played across the cave ceiling in gentle ripples, and the silence was so complete that I could hear my own heartbeat.

Then I turned my head and found Rowan already awake.

He sat near the edge of the pool. His hair was mussed from sleep, falling across his forehead in a way that made him look younger than he actually was. Kael appeared a lot more mature and I think he was in his late twenties, but I wondered just how old Rowan was.

And when he because a Supreme Alpha...

’Wait. That is none of my business!’

I should not even be entertaining any thought of getting to know him.

Rowan must have sensed me stirring, because his eyes shifted to meet mine.

He smiled faintly. "How did you sleep?"

"Good..." I pushed myself up.

"Perfect." His smile widened as if he had gotten a sudden burst of renewed energy and he stood up.

I stared at him, confused as to what got him so excited. Had he found a market?

"We should eat something," he said. "And then I can teach you how to dance."

My eyes widened.

What?

[ - ]

We had eaten from our supplies, which Rowan had thankfully hunted and prepared when we were out there. What was left would be able to last us for the next few days.

And when we finished, Rowan stood and moved to a part of the cave, where the floor was smoothest and the space was widest.

He turned to face me.

"Come."

I found it a little annoying how soft and gentle his voice was at that word, and my legs felt heavy as I crossed the distance between us.

The blue light from the pool cast shifting patterns across his face, his chest, his arms. It made everything feel dreamlike and unreal.

He smelt nice.

I stopped a few paces away from him.

"Can’t you use whatever small animals nearby to find those markets?" I asked him.

He chuckled softly, then dipped his hands into the loose pockets of the pants he had on. He was dressed almost identically to how I was. The sound of his small laugh seemed to make the space a bit warmer.

His gaze drifted to the side. "I am working on it. I found some actually while you were asleep and glad to say that I understand the layout of this place a bit more now. Though, it’s a lot more vast than I expected." He faced me. "It will take time, but nothing less than a week."

"That’s good." I rubbed my arm, my mood lifted a bit. This was actually good news.

"I also have them on the search for a separate route out of this place too."

My heart lurched from my chest to my throat as I saw Rowan had come even closer to her, nearly standing in front of her.

’When had he gotten so close?’

"Violet."

He was watching me with a look that was far too knowing. Like he could see right through my attempts to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"It’s not as scandalous as what you saw," he added, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I promise. The dance is just that. A bit simpler and less... provocative."

He said that, but I could hear how fast his heart was beating.

It was even faster than mine.

Still, it was amazing how he could keep his expression so cool while his pulse thundered.

He tilted his head slightly, eyeing my hand at my side. "I haven’t danced in a long time, actually. It’s something I used to enjoy, before..." He paused, his expression flickering with something I couldn’t quite read. "Before responsibilities made such things feel frivolous."

It came to me as a bit of a surprise that he enjoyed dancing.

That sounded strange.

"You miss it?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

"Sometimes." He shrugged, but the casual gesture didn’t quite match the look in his eyes.

He straightened and glanced at the pool again, lost in thought as if recalling a distant memory. "It’s calming, in a way. The rhythm, the movement. It quiets the mind." He looked at me again. "You might find it soothing too."

Soothing.

I doubted very much that pressing my body against his would be soothing.

But the way he spoke about it, like it was something really enjoyable made me want to try it a tiny bit. I had never exactly even danced before.

And the dances I had seen in the pack and in Fresna hadn’t been so closely done with two people.

I then thought of the intricate movements one would make with their feet during the act.

"I would step on your legs," I warned him.

His lips curved. "I’ll survive."

I slightly frowned. "This is a terrible idea."

"Not necessarily." He extended his hand toward me, palm up, waiting.

I stared at his hand.

The blue light played across his fingers, his palm, the strong lines of his wrist.

Every instinct told me to refuse and keep my distance while also telling me to grab it and draw closer to him, and I could no longer tell if it was the bond or simply my own wish.

’Oh, stop...’

Noticing my hesitation, he took a step back.

"We could start it a different way," he began, his voice low. "The dance we saw was performatively dramatic. That is its beauty. What I will show you is more like a conversation rather than a display, even though it also tells a story like the other one."

"I don’t think I understand."

"I’ll show you."

And he did show me.

He took a few steps in different directions, pulling his body along as his feet moved in a simple square pattern on the floor.

And it looked so easy when he did it.

I tried to copy his movements, but my feet tangled on the second repetition.

He laughed a few times, clearly amused by my clumsiness and he told me it would have been easier if there was music.

But by the fourth try, I was already improving.

And it strangely felt nice.

I was lost in my own world, and just about to ask why he hadn’t told me the dance was this different from what we had seen when his hand slipped into mine and he pulled me close in one swift, gentle move.