Page 22 of Wicked Knight
This section leads out to the back of the theatre in between the loading bay and parking lot.
It's dark, but a mixture of moonlight and the streetlights brightens the surroundings.
I take the metal stairs down, slowly looking around.
When I reach the bottom, I walk out a little toward the alleyway. Then I see him standing by the wrought iron railing looking out over the river.
My heart beats so hard and wild it feels like it might smash its way through my ribcage. My steps slow to a stop, and all I can do is stare at him.
His back is turned to me, so he hasn’t seen me yet, but I’m sure he knows I’m here.
I scan his wide, broad shoulders and the solid lines of corded muscle covering his back. Each one speaks of the hours of rigorous training he must put in to become the formidable athlete he is. Those muscles also tell the tales of what he’s done to become a Knight.
It’s hard to believe he was ever the scrawny boy next door. I was even taller than him for a whole summer. Now he’s at least six feet four. A whole foot taller than me.
Dmitri looks over his shoulder, then turns to face me.
I’m already in a daze just for being near him, but the moment his eyes lock on mine, my breath stills in my lungs.
He steps forward, making his way toward me in long graceful strides, reminding me of a jungle cat. I move toward him, too, feeling like I'm walking in a dream.
Unlike a dreamlike setting, where things appear languid and unhurried, everything around me is racing and the air is charged with wild electricity.
We meet in the middle, stopping a few paces away from each other.
My lips part to say something—any of the million things on my mind will do—but nothing comes out.
Dmitri looks at me, too, those eyes as vibrant and blue in the moonlight as they are during the day.
It feels strange to be so near to him outside of our usual sphere of existence.
Over the years, we've only ever been this close by accident. I almost don’t know what to do with myself.
Contract aside, I’ve imagined this moment happening so many times it feels like I’ve stepped inside my mind and I’m playing out one of my made-up fantasies. Except in those moments, we’re still the boy and the girl who used to play in the meadow, who never went a day without speaking, who couldn’t live without each other.
Now he’s a man, not the boy anymore, and the new tattoo of the Greek symbol for Sigma on the underside of his wrist marks him as a Knight.
It’s another reminder that he’s not the same Dmitri I used to know and that things are even more different than they were three months ago.
His gaze drops to my body, and he looks me up and down. It’s only then I remember I'm still wearing my costume. No wonder I was previously cold.
Now the heat from being near him and having his attention is warming me from the inside out, doing a number on my mind.
“You're here,” I hear myself say, my mind racing ahead of myself.
“I'm here,” he replies in that deep, rich baritone that glides over my skin like honey and rust. Smooth and rough. Just like him. “You flew to the edge of the sun again.”
At first, I'm thrown by his words, and my brain is slow to catch his meaning, then I remember the little code we had as kids.
Spiders and scorpions hate the sun. They both prefer the dark. Our darkness was a comfort zone that would have stopped us from taking the risks we needed to get what we wanted in life.
Going close the edge of the sun meant we accomplished something big. The last time I said that to him, I'd just been made a prima ballerina at the Raventhorne production. So much more has happened since.
“I flew.” I nod, biting back a smile. “Maybe beyond the sun this time.”
He nods, not surprised. The corner of his mouth slides into a faint grin, and I find myself wishing I could sell my soul to see one of his full smiles again. “Well deserved. You were great from the beginning to the end.”
My heart lifts in awe that he watched the performance. “You saw the whole show?”