Custo shook his head, as if reading her thoughts. “Annabella, you’re thinking about this the wrong way.”
“No, I’ve got everything straight now.” His explanation last night had cleared up her questions about the Shadowlands, the origin of the wolf, and the role of her talent in allowing him to cross over into the world. Only one thing had gone unsaid, though she figured it out just fine for herself: Her debut as Giselle didn’t matter when lives were in jeopardy. Therefore, she couldn’t dance.
Custo nudged her chin up, and she reluctantly met his gaze. “What is our goal?”
Annabella shrugged a shoulder. She had no idea what he was getting at, and she was hurting too much to really try. Her decision was made, and she didn’t want to think or feel anymore. Both were excruciating.
“Our goal is to return the wolf to the Shadowlands,” he said.
Not at the expense of another person’s life.
Damn. She needed a distraction before she broke, a way to disconnect her head and heart and be all body. A way to shut Custo up.
Her gaze traveled along the flexed length of his forearm to where it disappeared inside the bunch of his sleeve, to the bulge of his biceps, over the boulder of his shoulder to where the muscle met his collarbone. She went warm and liquid inside.
A life without dance was hell. Why not dive in headfirst?
“Annabella? You have to dance.” He’d gentled his bossy tone, but she didn’t need his pity. She was too close to falling apart as it was. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone?
“Annabella!”
Annabella watched his mouth move, the flick of his tongue on the la of her name. She’d never had sex with a near stranger before, but she was in the mood to be reckless. The wolf would probably kill her soon anyway. She had nothing left to lose.
She brought her gaze back up to Custo’s eyes, now dark and slightly distracted from his original train of thought. He paused for a moment to take a controlled breath, his intensity doubling, but then continued, “Instead of isolating you, waiting for the wolf to track you again, I suggest we make you completely accessible. Perform in the gala.”
She wasn’t going to listen to this. Was he trying to hurt her?
“Dance. Allow the wolf to come close,” he continued. “Lure him back into the Shadowlands.”
He had to see reason, or he’d never stop. “You can’t actually think I’d perform? That I’d go onstage with that monster after me? What if he hurt someone? Talia almost lost her babies. He killed Rudy.”
“Not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”
Easy for him to say, but she wasn’t buying it. He didn’t have to live with the consequences.
“And the rest of the dancers, my friends, all the people in the audience! You can’t actually think—”
Custo shook his head. “The wolf wants to get back himself. That’s why he has followed you to Segue, isn’t it?”
“What if he hurts someone to get to me?” She could not live with another death on her head. No. She wasn’t going to change her mind. All this arguing was just making her hurt more. Why couldn’t Custo shut up and kiss her? He’d been angling to do just that when he woke her. Why not now?
Now, damn it.
“Segue will be there to keep everyone as safe as possible. You dance. Give the performance of your life. Use your talent, your magic, to draw him into the Shadowlands. And then leave him on the other side. I will be there to give him a little extra incentive to go where he feels most in control.”
“Onstage? For everyone to see? The audience will all run screaming…”
“Not necessarily. The Shadowlands are pure magic, pure possibility. Its inhabitants keep to darkness and illusion by nature. The public nature of the event is actually in our favor. It is more likely that the audience will see what they want to see—a spectacular performance.” He raised a conciliatory hand. “But if the gala is ruined, Segue will take responsibility with a plausible answer. Your reputation will not be tarnished.” Custo sighed. “The wolf may not even show up.”
He made it sound so reasonable. But…“No. It’s much better to set some sort of trap with me as bait and then kill the wolf away from people.”
Custo’s brows drew together. “I thought you understood.”
“Understood what?” She couldn’t take much more.
“Annabella,” he said, voice lowered, “the wolf is a creature of Shadow. He is immortal, elemental. There is no way to kill him.”
Annabella’s heart lost its rhythm; one hard beat followed three rapid, skipping ones.
Custo placed a hand on her shoulder. “Without Talia, you’re the only means we have to attempt a cross. You have to dance, open the way, and then we can force him back into Shadow. If you think you can manage to open the way at another venue, I am willing to find a stage—”