It was Hades.
Somehow, he had fished her out from the throng of dancers, lifting her from the chaos before she could even speak. Before she could form a word, his hands tightened around her waist, guiding her effortlessly to the rhythm of the music.
Her heart thudded violently in her chest.
"I-I can't dance, milord!" she yelped, panic rising. It was one thing to embarrass herself with Liam, but to misstep now— to step on Hades's feet? She could not afford that. She could not possibly make him upset with her clumsy, stumbling steps!
"You can't?" His low chuckle brushed against her ear, a shiver running down her spine.
How could she explain that it wasn't just her terrible dancing that scared her, but the dizzying nearness of him, the way his body molded around hers, the heat and strength of his hands keeping her aloft?
"Or perhaps," he murmured, pulling her closer as they spun, "your partner simply doesn't know how to lead you."
