Forbidden Rhythms, Fiery Reactions

The sound of the door closing behind Kaelen left a strange emptiness in the room. I drummed my fingers on his desk, feeling a restless energy building inside me. The investigation had my mind racing, but there was something else bothering me—something I hadn't had since arriving in this realm.

"Hey, Mr. Va—Kaelen," I called out, hurrying after him before he could get too far down the hallway. The others exchanged curious glances behind me.

He turned, one eyebrow raised in that irritatingly perfect arch. "Yes, Ms. Thorne?"

I crossed my arms. "Look, I know this is going to sound trivial compared to everything else we're dealing with, but can I borrow your laptop for something personal?"

His expression remained unreadable. "What for?"

"Music," I said simply. When he didn't immediately respond, I continued, "I haven't had access to my playlists since I got here, and it's driving me crazy."

"There's music in this realm," he said, as if I were being completely unreasonable.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, but not my music. Not the stuff that helps me think, helps me cope." I wasn't sure why this suddenly felt so important, but the longer I went without my familiar rhythms, the more off-balance I felt.

Kaelen studied me for a moment. "You want to borrow my laptop... for playlists?"

"I'm not trying to contact anyone, if that's what you're worried about," I clarified. "I just need my music. It's... it's how I process things. How I've always processed things."

He glanced at his watch. "I need to leave for dinner with my mother."

"I'll take excellent care of it," I promised, holding up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

"Were you actually a scout?" he asked skeptically.

"No, but the point stands."

By now, the others had joined us in the hallway. Silas grinned as he stepped closer to me.

"Are we talking about Hazel's playlist addiction?" he asked. "Because it's serious. She has one for every mood and occasion."

"Including that sexy playlist you were always dancing to in the dorm bathroom," Rhys chimed in, wiggling his eyebrows.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "You heard that?"

"Everyone heard that," Silas laughed. "Those walls are thin."

Kaelen's expression shifted minutely, a flicker of something—interest?—passing through his eyes.

"Dancing is... important to you?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

I nodded, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "After my dad died, I couldn't... I couldn't talk about it. Couldn't process it. But I could dance. It became my therapy." I hadn't meant to reveal so much, but something about Kaelen's steady gaze made the words tumble out.

"We have dance classes here at the academy," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I've seen them," I replied, trying to be diplomatic. "Let's just say ballroom and classical aren't really my style."

"And what is your style, Ms. Thorne?" he asked, his voice dropping slightly.

I hesitated, not sure how to explain contemporary hip-hop and street dance to someone who probably thought Mozart was cutting-edge.

"Show us," Rhys suggested excitedly. "If Mr. Vance gives you his laptop, you can show us videos of your dancing."

I looked at Kaelen, trying to gauge his reaction. After a moment's consideration, he pulled his laptop from his briefcase and handed it to me.

"I am curious," he admitted. "But I really do need to leave soon."

We all retreated to his office again. I opened YouTube and quickly found a performance video from my dance crew's showcase last year.

"This was our final piece," I explained as the others gathered around. "We worked on it for months."

The video began playing, showing a dimly lit stage. Eight dancers stood frozen in silhouette as the first bass notes thumped through the speakers. When the lights came up, we exploded into motion—a synchronized burst of energy that always made my heart race with pride.

"That's you!" Rhys pointed excitedly at the screen, spotting me in the front line.

I nodded, feeling strangely exposed as I watched myself on screen. The choreography was challenging, with fast isolations and floor work interspersed with moments of slow, deliberate sensuality. The style was unmistakably modern, blending hip-hop with contemporary dance elements.

"This is nothing like the dancing here," Ronan observed, his eyes wide with fascination.

Even Kaelen seemed mesmerized, his earlier hurry forgotten as he watched the performance unfold. His gaze was intense, analytical, as if trying to understand this part of me he'd never seen before.

Then came the section I'd forgotten about—the partnered sequence where Landon and I took center stage. The choreography required intimate contact, his hands on my waist as I arched backward, every movement charged with the kind of artistic sensuality that made dance so powerful. It was nothing inappropriate—just dance—but watching it now, surrounded by my bonds, I suddenly felt self-conscious.

"Who's that?" Rhys asked, pointing to Landon.

Before I could answer, Jaxon, who had been silently watching from the back of the group, pushed forward. His face darkened as he watched Landon and me move together on screen, our bodies in perfect sync as we executed the complex routine.

"Who the fuck is that?" Jaxon demanded, jabbing his finger at Landon's image before turning to me with blazing eyes.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Everyone froze, even Kaelen, who had been about to leave. Jaxon's jealousy was a tangible force, his body rigid with barely contained aggression.

"That's Landon," I said calmly, refusing to be intimidated. "He was my dance partner."

"Dance partner," Jaxon repeated, his voice dangerously low. "Is that what you call it?"

I stood up, crossing my arms. "Yes, that's exactly what I call it, because that's what it was."

Jaxon's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched tight. "He's touching you."

"That's what happens in partner dancing," I explained, struggling to keep my voice level. "It's choreography, Jaxon. It's art."

"It looks like more than art to me," he growled, stepping closer.

Rhys put a hand on Jaxon's shoulder. "Come on, man. It's just dancing."

Jaxon shook him off, his eyes never leaving mine. "Was he more than a dance partner, Hazel?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. I could feel everyone watching us, the tension thickening with each passing second. Kaelen had paused by the door, his expression unreadable as he observed the confrontation.

"That's none of your business," I replied evenly, knowing it was the wrong thing to say but unwilling to explain my complicated history with Landon under duress.

Jaxon's nostrils flared, and something dangerous flickered in his eyes. "Everything about you is my business. You're my bond."

"That doesn't make me your property," I shot back, feeling my own temper rising to match his. "I had a life before I met you, Jaxon. Deal with it."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a moment, I thought he might actually lose control. The others tensed, ready to intervene if necessary. But Jaxon simply leaned closer, his voice a menacing whisper.

"If he ever touches you like that again," he said, "I'll tear him apart."

The raw possessiveness in his voice sent an involuntary shiver down my spine—partly fear, partly something else I didn't want to examine too closely. Before I could respond, Kaelen stepped forward, his authority filling the room.

"That's enough," he said firmly. "I have to leave, and this discussion is clearly becoming unproductive."

Jaxon didn't back down immediately, his gaze still locked with mine in silent challenge. I refused to look away, matching his intensity with my own.

"We're not done talking about this," Jaxon finally said, before turning and stalking out of the room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the bookshelves.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my heart racing with a confusing mix of anger and something that felt disturbingly like excitement.