In the old days, like when my mom was a kid, people always danced with a partner. Which is okay, I guess. But then you’re worried about the proper steps and the other person’s lead and stepping on their toes. When you’re dancing with yourself, you have none of these concerns. You can just let go.
The song changes and I open my eyes. Responsibility replaces rhythm. As much as I’d like to dance all night, I’ve got to find Jareth. I scan the café side of the club, adorned with little tables covered by black tablecloths and lit by candles. Several vampy-looking patrons are sipping what appears to be a deep crimson wine. But the color looks a bit too dark to be your average merlot, if you know what I’m saying. Many have brought their donors with them. Usually pale, thin Goth girls who think it’s oh-so-cool to sell their blood to a thirsty vamp. Most of the donors are total vamp wannabes. Ones who failed the certification program to become vampires themselves.
Maybe I should become a donor. Then I’d get to experience that amazing biting experience every night. Then again, that just rings a little too close to prostitution to me. The vamp would just be using me for blood.
No, I can wait. ’Til I’m assigned a new blood mate. Someone completely compatible with me who I can spend the rest of eternity with. Someone whose bites will actually mean something. I want that. I deserve that.
Anyway, no sign of Jareth, so I turn to head back out onto the dance floor. It’s there I spot him. At the far end of the room, lit by a black light, his pale skin is almost glowing. He’s dressed simply, wearing a white pirate shirt with puffy sleeves and black pants. But he looks like a god as he sways under the light. His eyes are closed, his face a mask of ecstasy and concentration. He’s got perfect moves, perfect rhythm. It’s almost as if he’s part of the music. I know that sounds weird, but it’s hard to describe. Suffice it to say he looks beautiful. Absolutely stunning.
The Jareth I know is uptight and annoying. A total ass.
This is not the Jareth I know.
This is the Jareth I want to know.
I weave my way through the other dancers ’til I reach him. His eyes are still closed, and I notice he’s wearing eyeliner. De-lish. I love a guy in eyeliner.
Not wanting to disturb his dance-induced trance, I merely pick up the beat myself, closing my own eyes, floating my arms through the air. Finding the music and making love to it. Letting the dark, melodious sounds take me away. To the place Jareth has found. Hoping I can find him there, too.
An arm wraps around my waist and a body presses against mine. I consider opening my eyes, but the feeling is too nice. The heat, the touch, the matching of my movements with his own.
Is it Jareth? It has to be Jareth. And he feels so good. So right. Just as I imagined he would.
I feel myself being pulled deeper and deeper inside the music. A rich darkness consumes me, pulling me toward a strange white light. I take back every single thing I said about it being better to dance alone. It’s better to dance with Jareth. One hundred million, billion, gazillion times better.
“You’re a good dancer,” his voice whispers in my ear.
“You, too,” I whisper back, wanting this moment to last forever. Wow. This is so not the Jareth I know, that’s for sure. Who knew he was so deeply and darkly romantic. So—
“Rayne, are you going to waste the entire night on the dance floor? Or can we get some work done here?”
My eyes flutter open at the unmistakable voice. I glance at my dance partner. Uh-oh.
It’s not Jareth. Not even close. Ew! I’ve been grinding with some totally random vamp who’s not even cute. Gr-oss. And uber-disappointing.
I push the guy away, annoyed. I look over to see Jareth staring disapprovingly at me, arms folded across his chest. He looks terribly annoyed.
“Jareth?” My head’s still foggy from the dancing. “I thought—”
“If you’ve had your fun, I suggest we get down to business,” he shouts over the music.
“Hey, buddy,” says my accidental dance partner. “She’s dancing with me.”
Jareth rolls his eyes. “She can marry you, for all I care.
Have babies. Live happily ever after in a white-picketed suburban McMansion. But for right now, I have important business to discuss with her and she’s coming with me.”
He grabs me roughly by the arm and proceeds to drag me to the café side of the club.
“Get your hands off me,” I protest, annoyed at his possessiveness. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was totally jealous. But that’s stupid, right? I mean, we don’t even know each other, really. Or like each other. We shared one bite. And it was performed under necessity, not attraction. Well, not total attraction, anyway. Okay, fine. I was attracted. But for him it was just part of our cover. At least I think so.
Still, for some weird reason he’s making me feel totally guilty. As if I was, like, cheating on him or something. Which is so stupid. We’re totally not going out. We’re not even friends. We’re just partners thrown together to solve a vampire mystery. After that’s over, we’ll part ways. Forever. And I do mean forever.
Jareth still looks pouty as he sits down in his seat. I decide to make peace. Even if he doesn’t have any right to be pissed at me.
“I was watching you,” I say. “You’re an amazing dancer.”
“Thanks,” he says, still sounding a bit on the grumpy side. “It’s something I enjoy.”