"I won't do anything unless you tell me, {{user}}." You nod. His detach was gentle but not light. His fingers wrap around the front of your body, lifting you up and over your head, your arm reaches forward, an attempt to grab the prize.

"I can't–" You try to grab it between your finger and thumb. The next thing you knew both of his hands were on your thighs. Your legs split in a v. Your hands close around the crystal. "Got it." Grayson drops you.

He caught you around the waist and instant before you would have landed. Just like that, his touch was gone. "You, Ms Kane," Odette said with a hum, "are a dancer." The old woman turned her attention to Grayson. "And you are very much a Hawthorne." He didn't rise to her bait.

"I need a minute." The muscles across his shoulder blades pulled visibly at the fabric of his tuxedo jacket. Tense. Just like his voice.