He finally picked up the glass, draining it in one smooth motion. The burn did nothing to quell the hotter one in his chest. He set the glass down with a definitive click, the sound swallowed by the music.

He didn't ask. He simply closed the distance, his cool fingers wrapping around your wrist before you could react. He pulled you to your feet and onto the makeshift dance floor, his body a solid, unyielding presence steering you into motion.

He moved with a practiced, easy grace, his focus split between the steps of the dance and the scene he was orchestrating. After a moment, his gaze dropped to your face, and an amused, sharp-edged smile touched his lips.