To dance her best?
No. It had to be Giselle and with CBT. A different venue would be too distracting; her dancing wouldn’t be the same. But with her company behind her, with Jasper as her partner, she might just be able to get to that strange moment where music and movement came together to create magic. Anything else would be too forced, too artificial.
“It wouldn’t be the same,” she said, sighing.
Annabella needed a minute to think, to process this new information.
She looked over at the paintings on the wall. Talia’s? Had she glimpsed what lay beyond her shadows and put them on canvas? No. Each was signed Kathleen O’Brien.
“Her mother,” Custo said.
“What?”
“The paintings. They were done by Talia’s mother. Talia’s father is…from there.” Custo paused. Annabella glanced back to find he’d lost a bit of color. “From the Shadowlands.”
Talia, the banshee. Right. Annabella had seen that with her own eyes, too.
Custo lifted his hand off her shoulder and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So what time do you need to be at the theater?”
Could she really dance? Was it right to dance?
“And what if you get hurt?” she asked.
“Angel,” he said with emphasis. He relaxed, at ease on the bed. “I already died; there’s not much he can do to me.” Custo gave a fierce smile.
“Oh, right,” Annabella mumbled. Her guardian angel looked less angelic with each passing moment.
But…She had to be absolutely, brutally honest, just in case something did go wrong. “Custo, I want this chance so bad that I’m afraid I would do anything to hold on to it. I don’t trust myself.”
“You need to,” he said, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingertips. “I don’t think the crossover would work if you didn’t embrace the dance with everything that you are. If you have reservations, the magic of your talent might not shine through.” He frowned. “I am curious why it never happened before. Why do you think that is?”
Good question. It had been bothering her, too. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve been pushing myself harder than I ever have.” Her life was falling apart because of it—no dates, no girlfriends, no fun. “Maybe because I’m finally in the spotlight. That sounds bad, I know, but when you are in the corps, you always need to be watching others, keeping your lines—you’re not completely free.” There were times when she wanted to let go, jump higher, interpret the music her own way, but couldn’t because she had to hold her place. “Or, maybe because Giselle is a ghost. She rises from the grave to dance in a dark forest, which sounds an awful lot like the Shadowlands to me.”
“Maybe it’s a combination of the three. Maybe with this performance you’re coming into your full gift of talent.”
She’d dreamed of this moment her whole life.
“The time?” Custo prompted again. “When do we need to get going?”
Okay…She would dance. Dance! The wild, careening spin of her world suddenly righted itself on its axis. Wolves might jump out of the shadows, angels might fall from the sky, but if she could dance, then she would be all right. She could breathe. She could live. The circumstances were far from ideal, but she’d take whatever she could get.
It was impossible not to smile. “Four o’clock would be good. I’m going to need a good breakfast. Or brunch. Starving here,” she added with a huff. The choco-brownie mush hadn’t lasted long with her athletic metabolism. “And we have to run by my place for my stuff.”
“Good,” Custo said, a devilish grin flashing. “Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s return to another train of thought…”
His eyes lowered to her mouth, mimicking her earlier suggestion.
Oh boy…Her high excitement abruptly condensed and lowered to a tight, bright burn deep in her center. Custo.
She’d had one lover before, long over, but never, even at the peak of that passion, had she felt a fraction of the desire Custo evoked with the rake of his lust-hungry eyes. How could it be that an angel and temptation were one and the same?
Annabella’s breath caught as Custo leaned forward and found her jaw with his mouth, whispering against her skin as he traced a line toward her lips. “Your mind is a jumble, but it’s clear the direction you’re going. Decide already.”
The thought of her body under his, his muscles bunching, broad shoulders flaring as he braced himself over her had the burn coiling into a sublimely torturous, yearning knot. She was happy, celebratory, and, yes, she wanted it all. She wanted him.