Page 6 of The Vampire’s Ballerina

“She’s a member of my company. I’m her boss.”

He scoffs. “That’s never stopped you before.”

My jaw ticks, and I turn to look at the stage. The ghost light still flickers in the dim theater, waiting for someone to put it away for the day. “She’s different.”

“Why? Because she knows what you are?”

“I would ruin her.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Would you? Or would she ruin you?”

I sigh and turn to face the seat, both hands gripping the back of it as my chin drops to my chest. “She’s already ruined me.”

His brows furrow, and he takes a hesitant step closer. “Wait. Is she your chosen?”

“Drop it,” I snap, whipping my head towards him.

“But if she’s your chosen, then—”

“I said drop it!”

My voice echoes through the theater, bouncing off walls designed for perfect acoustics, mimicking the rhythm of Imogen’s name beating inside my soul. Ramón ducks his head in submission to his maker, fiddling with the elastic on his ballet shoes.

I reel back, pulling on the reins of my accidental compulsion over him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to compel you.”

“It’s fine.” His lips twitch as he shrugs off the remnants of my suppressing power. “Although now I understand why you’re touchier than usual. You’ve denied yourself for too long. You need to do something about it. Scratch that itch.”

“She is not just an itch.”

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the subject of our conversation bounces into the theater at that very moment, pointe shoes in one hand and a giant water bottle in the other. My eyes meet Imogen’s for a split second, and then I turn away, strolling down the row of chairs with my hands in my pockets. I’m back to the aloof, calm, collected ballet company director.

“Thank you for your advice, Ramón,” I say. “I shall take it into consideration. But for now, you need to warm up. You too, Imogen.”

“I just came from class.”

Her bright voice slows my steps. I turn to glance at her, where she’s setting her bag on a theater seat, and curl my hands into fists in my pockets. Not out of anger, but out of necessity. To keep myself from reaching for her. She is the sun—a fiery magnet, waiting to burn me, to blaze through all my defenses. She is dangerous. Dangerous but beautiful, like an oleander.

But only to me. She poses no threat to others. To others, she’s just Imogen. To me, she is my weakness. My ruination. Because it all boils down to how selfish I wish to be.

“Then why are your shoes off?” I ask, flicking my eyes to the pink satin pointe shoes in her hand.

“I couldn’t very well wear them outside now, could I?”

Ramón snickers from the stage, where he’s warming up with a portable barre, and I refrain from glaring at him.

I lift my finger and point to the stage. “Put them back on and then join Ramón.”

“On my way,” she says, smiling.

Imogen turns on her heel and prances down the aisle, shoes still in hand. I drag a hand down my face and collapse into the seat behind me, pinching my lip between my fingers as I watch her.

She joins Ramón at the barre, shoes now on her feet. Her delicate fingers brush the metal, resting on it just enough to check her balance but not enough to bear her weight. A soft smile touches her lips, eyes fluttering shut as she inhales, preparing herself. She’s in her element here, all grace and fluidity, no trace of harshness or a mask of faux confidence marring her natural beauty.

Her head turns to Ramón, a laugh spilling out at something he said, but I’m not listening to him. She’s the center of my attention. The one thing that can draw my focus, even from the farthest corner of a room. She gives him an authentic smile, and I can’t help the pang of jealousy that flares in me. Those real smiles should be mine. I should be the one evoking them.

No. That’s not right either. I can’t keep having these intrusive, unproductive, distracting thoughts about her. There needs to be distance between us. Emotional and physical. I could pull some strings, get a friend to offer her a position in a large company somewhere far from California, and—