CHAPTER 385: DANCING WITH PASSION

{Melisa}

"No, no, no! Your hips! Move your HIPS!"

Rakia grabbed Melisa’s waist from behind, forcing her body into the right position. The contact sent a jolt through Melisa’s spine.

[Fuck, why does she have to be so handsy?]

"Like this," Rakia murmured, her breath hot against Melisa’s ear as she guided her through the movement. "Feel the rhythm in your bones."

The rehearsal pavilion was mostly empty now, just them and a few performers cleaning up. They’d been at this for three hours, and Melisa was drenched in sweat. Her shirt clung to her body, and she’d long since kicked off her shoes.

"I’m feeling something, but it’s not rhythm," Melisa muttered.

Rakia laughed, spinning her around so they were face to face, their noses almost touching.

"That’s because you’re thinking too much! Dance isn’t about thinking, it’s about feeling!"

She demonstrated the move again, her body flowing like water. Her colorful hair bounced with each movement, the bells in her braids creating a soft melody. The way her hips rolled was borderline obscene.

[God, she’s really cute. Like, unfairly cute.]

"Your turn!"

Melisa tried to copy the movement. She got about halfway through before her feet tangled and she stumbled forward, right into Rakia’s arms.

"See? Perfect!" Rakia beamed, not letting go. "You’re already throwing yourself at me!"

"That’s not what I was doing!"

"Sure it wasn’t. You know, you’re adorable when you’re flustered."

Melisa’s face went purple.

"I’m not flustered!"

"Your tail says otherwise."

[Fucking traitor tail.]

"Listen," Rakia said, her voice suddenly softer. "You’ve been working so hard. Why don’t you come to my place for dinner?"

"What?"

"I promise no dancing," Rakia said with a hand over her heart and a solemn face. "Just food and maybe some wine."

Melisa hesitated. She should probably head back. Check on the others.

"Come on," Rakia pouted. "I make amazing stir-fry. And I want to show you my art collection!"

[Oh what the hell. When’s the next time I’ll be in Yalmir?]

"Fine. But no more surprise tongue kissing."

"Can’t promise that~"

---

Rakia’s house was exactly what Melisa expected and nothing like it at the same time.

From the outside, it looked like every other building in the theater district. But inside? Chaos. Beautiful, organized chaos.

Paintings covered every wall, sculptures sat on every surface, and fabric hung from the ceiling in rainbow cascades. It smelled like paint, incense, and something spicy cooking in the kitchen.

"Welcome to my sanctuary!" Rakia announced, throwing her arms wide. "Make yourself at home! I’ll get the food!"

She bounced off to the kitchen, leaving Melisa to explore.

There were paintings of dancers mid-leap, sculptures of intertwined bodies that were maybe-definitely also fucking, and one entire wall dedicated to what looked like costume designs.

"These are incredible," Melisa called out.

"Thank you! Most of them are mine!" Rakia emerged with two plates piled high with vegetables and meat in some kind of sauce that smelled divine. "I’ve been creating since I could hold a brush!"

They sat on cushions around a low table. The food was as good as promised, spicy enough to make Melisa’s eyes water but in the best way.

"So," Rakia said between bites, "tell me about your magic. The real story, not the official version."

"What makes you think there’s a difference?"

"Please. I’m an artist. I know when someone’s performing." She leaned forward.

Melisa considered how much to share.

"I... experimented a lot. Nim aren’t supposed to be able to use magic, but I figured out a workaround."

"Through sex?"

Melisa nearly choked on her food.

"How did you—"

"It’s obvious! I could feel the tug every time we touched. You drain Essence through intimacy, then use it for spells. It’s brilliant!" Rakia’s eyes were shining. "You turned your race’s greatest ’weakness’ into strength!"

"Most people don’t see it that way."

"Most people are idiots." Rakia reached across the table to touch Melisa’s hand. "You’re revolutionary."

The contact sent warmth up Melisa’s arm.

[Why does she have to be so genuine? It’s harder to resist when she’s being genuine.]

"Thanks," Melisa said quietly.

---

They talked for hours. About art, magic, the festival, their families.

"They say I was born dramatic," she laughed. "Came out of the womb posing!"

"I believe it."

"What about you? What was little Melisa like?"

[Well, I was actually a depressed software developer named Alice, but...]

"Curious. Always getting into trouble trying to figure out how things worked."

"Some things never change then!"

By the time Melisa realized how late it had gotten, the moon was high in the sky.

"Shit, I should go. The others will wonder where I am."

"Or," Rakia suggested with a grin, "you could stay."

"Rakia..."

"For sleeping! Just sleeping! I have a guest room and everything!"

Melisa looked at her skeptically.

"Fine, sleeping and maybe some light cuddling. I promise to keep my hands mostly to myself."

"Mostly?"

"I’m being realistic!"

Melisa laughed despite herself.

"Thanks for the offer, but I really should head back."

Rakia walked her to the door, pouting dramatically.

"You’re no fun."

"I’m plenty fun. Just not tonight."

"Rain check?"

"Maybe after the festival."

"I’ll hold you to that!" Rakia grabbed Melisa’s face and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Now go, before I change my mind about letting you leave."

---

The walk back to the palace was peaceful. The streets were mostly empty, just a few late-night revelers and guards on patrol.

Melisa’s mind wandered as she walked. The festival was in three days. Three days to somehow convince an entire city that nim weren’t trying to overthrow them. No pressure.

[At least Rakia seems confident. That girl could probably make anything work through sheer enthusiasm alone.]

The guest quarters were quiet when she arrived. Most of the lights were off, everyone presumably asleep.

She was heading to her room when she heard it. A familiar sound that made her stop in her tracks.

Moaning. Coming from one of the rooms with the door slightly ajar.

[Oh for fuck’s sake. Can people not keep it in their pants for one night?]

She was going to just walk past, really she was. But curiosity got the better of her. She peeked through the crack in the door.

And immediately froze.

Isabella had Raven bent over the bed, fucking her from behind with enthusiasm. Raven’s usual stoic expression was completely gone, replaced with pleasure and a bit of embarrassment. Her hands gripped the sheets, and she was making noises Melisa didn’t even know she could make.

"That’s it," Isabella panted, her hips snapping forward. "Talk to me. Let me hear you."

"Isabella... fuck... harder..."

[Wow.]

Melisa backed away from the door as quietly as possible.

She made it to her own room and collapsed on the bed, exhausted from dancing and trying not to think about what she’d just witnessed.

It was a bit harder than normal to catch some sleep that night.