Dance in the Dark Read Online Free Page A

here. Fangs or not, I am a Desrosiers and you will unhand me and tell me who you are."
    Soft, deep laughter brushed across Johnnie's face, smelling like some sort of sweet, fruity candy. "I saw you and was captivated. I wanted a closer look."
    "There is not much to see in the dark," Johnnie replied.
    "Not for you, perhaps," the man replied, squeezing Johnnie's hand again—then his thumb brushed over Johnnie's bottom lip.
    Johnnie jerked his head back and hissed, "Do not touch me." He attempted to glare at the man he could only feel and hear and smell, but to judge by the soft laughter, he failed completely.
    "You're too beautiful not to touch," the man replied, but abruptly let Johnnie go.
    Johnnie flexed the fingers of his suddenly free hand, wondering why it felt so strange. It tingled, as though it had fallen asleep and was just beginning to wake up. So too his lip, he realized. He frowned and lifted his other hand to touch his lips.
    All the while, he felt the presence of the stranger, but he refused to ask again who the man was. Instead, he asked, "What do you want?"
    "To be with you in hell," came the reply.
    Johnnie jerked in surprise, not having expected that reply at all. He had never encountered anyone besides Rostiya who could quote Russian poetry. Intrigued now, though he knew he should be frightened or at least angry, he gave the next spoken line of the poem. "It would seem your words/Bode neither of us any good."
    A hand cupped his chin, the man's thumb rubbing along his lip again. "Tell me how men kiss you. Tell me how you kiss."
    The words hung there in the air, thick and heavy, and Johnnie could not quite repress an unexpected shiver.  He asked again, though he hated to lower himself, "Who are you?"
    "An admirer," the man replied. "I admired you standing beneath the hard shine of the lights. I admired you dancing across the floor. I think I admire you most here in the dark, where I and I alone can see you."
    "How can you see me?" Johnnie asked, before he could bite the question back. "How well can you see me?"
    "Perfectly," the man said. "Dark is as day to mine eyes."
    Johnnie frowned at that. Nearly all supernaturals could see well in the dark, but he knew of nothing which could see that well, except perhaps ghosts. This man was no ghost. He did not know what the man could be, and that annoyed him. He should know. The stranger must be exaggerating, and his magic was simply good enough to overcome the wards. "Why can I not see you, then? Why must I remain in the dark? Afraid that if I know your face, you will be made to suffer the consequences of your actions?"
    The man laughed. "Consequences? No. I've nothing to fear from consequences."
    "Then why—" Johnnie was cut off by soft, warm lips, a mouth that tasted like sticky-sweet fruit candy. He tried to draw back, offended and infuriated, but one hand cradled the back of his head, sank gently into his hair and grasped a firm hold, while the man's other arm wrapped around his waist and held fast. The man took his mouth more firmly, plundering it with a boldness that no one would ever dare display towards a son of a Dracula.
    Johnnie did not mean to react—he did not want to encourage the abominable behavior—and yet he realized after a moment that he was responding. Why, he thought suddenly, could he not be kissed this way by Elam?
    The stranger pulled away the barest amount, drawing a breath. His lips ghosted softly over Johnnie's, then his tongue was lapping where his lips had just been, and then Johnnie was being kissed thoroughly again, and even thoughts of Elam momentarily fled.
    When the second kiss ended, the stranger drew back. Johnnie drew a breath to speak—then realized he was alone. Orange-yellow light slipped through the curtains, a sliver of light peeked from the bottom of the door. Johnnie licked his lips, tasting a stranger on them. No one dared treat him in so crass and familiar a manner. He chose who to kiss, and when, and how. He licked