His hands gripped the bar as he lifted elegantly into an attitude, power in his form. Ballet bends the body, stretching it to its most painful limit until the body is light as a feather and as moldable as clay.

Lucky Emery, thanks to years of training that have carved his body to perfection, every muscle and divot sharp yet soft.

Emery danced at the Académie Etienne in Paris, one of the most prestigious ballet academies in the world. Emery had relent that made every dancer in the studio eyes his flawless attitude with envy that reeks from their poised legs and pointed chins.

The boy was praised by everyone, everyone except his teacher.

Warner Smuin gazed at Emery with cold indifference as he approached the boy like a predator stalking its prey. His strong, rough hands wrapped around Emery’s slim waist as he spoke in a deep, husky voice.

“Center your strength in your core.”

As Emery obeyed, Warner’s left hand slid done beneath Emery’s stomach as his right hand slid done his leg in an identical, light caress, his thick fingers wrapping beneath Emery’s thigh.

“Extend.”

Emery lifted and straightened his back, Warner sizing him up with the same cold gaze as before.

“Gorgeous.” Warner whispered huskily, so quiet that no one heard before walking away. His words caught Emery off guard, the praise from his teacher so unfamiliar, yet ravishing.

Warner had never complimented any of his students before.

“At rest. Auditions for Swan Lake are tomorrow at three, promptly. Tardiness and truancy will not be excused.”

As class ended, Emery packed his things, a small smile on his face. Auditions were tomorrow—exciting. And Emery had a feeling that his teacher would surely give him a good part.

Warner had never called anyone gorgeous.