Heather Long - Taking the Stage

Not the toes. Rosetre refused to squeal. As lead dancer for the Arcana Royales Midnight Mystery Lounge, she would never squeal or scream, but her voice pitched high enough that the syllable at the end of toes cracked.

The great white tiger snuffling her feet through the five-inch strappy black-and-sapphire Louboutins rolled his head away. Instead of obeying, he stroked a whiskered cheek down her bare leg.

Cut! Voice booming, the shows stage manager hustled out from the wings. Heidi was a brisk woman with a quick temper and a stout body, dedicated to creating the best shows. After Pandoras escape from her contract, she relied on all of her girls to have the same dedication to the performance, Rosetre more than most.

Pandora. Shed always made the lead look easy. Shed walked out on the stage and owned the audience. Rosetre believed Pandora could have shared the stage with twelve chimpanzees and it wouldnt have mattered. Gazes would have been riveted to the tawny nymph.

The white tiger stretched out his neck and yawned, showing off a mouthful of glistening teeth. He flexed his paws, claws scoring the stage. She wasnt fooled by the sleepy-eyed expression or house-cat similarities. Big cats werent pets.

The rest of the dancers relaxed from their poses, some even dropping down to coo and stroke the cats whose arrival had elicited a long round of awws and arent they sweets. Rosetre, however, shifted away from the cat with his tickling whiskers and raspy tongue.

Rose? Heidi beckoned, a pen behind one ear and a notebook tucked under her arm. She pursed her lips in a youre-not-in-trouble-yet moue, but the wrinkles knitting her brow told an entirely different story.

Yes, maam? Rosetre didnt drag her feet. One certainly never dragged Louboutins, but she couldnt quite resist displaying her mutiny with an uplifted chin and wrinkled nose.

Cats.

Her nose twitched. Her sinuses burned. Her eyes threatened tears. But she maintained her composure.

Damn cats.

Look, I know youre not thrilled with this idea. The opening gambit was classic Heidi, softening her up for the too-damn-bad often attached to those statements.

Closeted together at the far end of the stage, Rosetre was glad to be out of earshot of her shield-sister Cerveau, the other dancers and thankfully, the damn tigers.

The Midnight Mystery Lounge was closed for an entire week so the dancers could learn this new act. Shed woken to the bad news that the diNapoli Tigerstigerswere joining the show for a three-month trial to drum up business in the magical casino and resort.

But youre just going to have to get over it. The apothecary will provide you with a tea for your allergies. We need this show and youre the headliner. That means you and the tiger will be all over each other on that stage and youre going to love it.

And there it was, the verbal slap demanding submission. The command chafed. But a promise was a promise and she was as bound by her oath as her shield-sister Cerveau was by her curse.

Is there any way we can do this without cats?

Not really, no. The sympathy was real, but from Heidis compressed expression, the stage manager was plainly not on Rosetres side. Im sorry, Rose. But the diNapoli Tigers were an enormous success in Monaco and Paris. We need them for resurgence of interest or the Overseers may very well break up the show.

Really? Panic drifted under the surface of her skin, sending her heart puttering. The Overseers controlled the Arcana Royale, the sprawling complex where meta-humans of all types were welcome and could be themselves. They controlled the shows, the people and in the case of the dancers, their souls. Breaking up the show meant the dancers with varying leases on their souls could be placed elsewhere at the Overseers discretion.

Worse, Rosetre and Cerveau could be separated. Rosetre couldnt allow that to happen. Shed sworn an oath. Pride could be sacrificed. Honor could not.

A shield-borne oath was an oath.

Ill try. Its not just the allergy, though.

What is it?

No simple answer existed. Rosetre glanced over her shoulder to where the great cats lounged. Some groomed themselves while yet another rolled over on its back, presenting its belly to Peppermint for attention. Of all the dancers, Peppermint was the most gracious, the most loving and the most likely to enjoy gamboling with the tigers on the stage.

I assure you, nothing is wrong with my cats. The dark, deep masculine tones teased up her spine. She jerked her attention back to discover a bare-chested, bare-footed blond god had joined them.

Oh my. Who did he kill to get those abs?

She snapped her jaw shut with a flicker of irritation, and forced her gaze up from the hard six-pack of clear-cut muscle to roam over the ripped planes of his chest and shoulders.

Dear gods, does it end?

The cool dislike in his blue eyes slapped her back to the present. Everything about the man seemed larger than life, from his thick thighs, easily three times the size of hers, to his wide hands and square, chiseled jaw.

Rosetre, Anthony diNapoli. Heidis snapped introduction rebuked her. Anthony, this is our headliner, Rosetre.

Be professional. She extended her hand and kept her gaze focused above his chin. Despite the five additional inches her designer shoes added to her considerable height, topping at around six foot, the man towered over her.

And he inspected her with an air of detached amusement, his gaze clearly dipping below her chin to where her breasts strained against the confinement of the black leotard.

Your pleasure, Im sure. The bastard smiled and ignored her hand.

Anthonys cats are in high demand, and hes graciously consented to this trial contract so were going to do the best we can to make the most of this situation. Heidi turned to Anthony as though unaware of the icy drop in Rosetres regard. Well add extra rehearsal time so Rosetre and her cat can get used to each other.

We will? Incredulous, Rosetre could barely pull her eyes away from Anthony to look at the stage manager. More rehearsals? Tired of holding her hand out to the air, she let it drop.

Absolutely. Heidi nodded briskly, clapping her hands and striding away to gather the dancers, completely ignoring the cats with the poise of one who was likely more dangerous than the wild animals. Ladies!

Cerveau stood next to Kiki, Peppermint and Amber, the question in her expression obvious, but Rosetre shook her head, waving her off with one short hand gesture. She didnt need backup.

So whats your problem with cats, princess? The words shivered up her spine. Anthonys voice prowled behind her, his body heat brushing against her in challenge and invitation.

Does it matter?

She didnt have to play nice. The bastard couldnt be bothered to shake her hand.

It might. Youre going to be riding my tiger every night for the next three months. The words dripped with mockery and some other indefinable emotion.

Rosetre shifted away, sparing him a dismissive look. Shed practiced the art of cool disdain for years under her mothers tutelage. He might call her princess in his low, rolling sexy voice as a jest, but it didnt make it any less true.

Whats the problem now, princess?

Youre getting sarcasm on my shoes. She lifted one, taking great care to inspect it.

Anthony threw his head back and laughed, a deep belly-trembling shout of amusement.

The noise drew the dancers attention like children to free chocolate. Cerveaus face twisted comically, a mixture of censure and curiosity reddening her cheeks. She wouldnt approve the tone, but she would appreciate the cause.