Stars Dancing [Dreams-To-Lovers Romance]

NAYTH

"Okay, Iqui?" Freya asked as my tailor took unnecessary measurements. I was humoring her. I'd told my sister to plan a wedding in thirteen days, and I meant to let her do whatever she wanted. She was milking it, making me stand there half naked for my tailor who already had my measurements memorized because I had 400 suits in my closet that he'd made.

"Yes, Freya. Whatever you want."

She smirked. "Grovel, brother. Right now. On your knees."

I started to bend, but my pad lit up. Saved by Ren Crieve. I accepted the video, and my pad played something I couldn't quite fathom. Freya's eyebrows shot up, and she came around to look. Ren was playing Florian music, but it wasn't Florian. It was a— what was that thing? Not a guitar or mandolin or ukelele. Something twangy. And he had a pipe in a sling in front of his face, playing a tune that was a dance Floreno-style, but not.

"Freya, no questions. Keep Ryst in her apartment."

Freya nodded and took Evans, my forbearing tailor, with her.

I ran for my guitar. Whatever Ren was playing, I was already feeling like I was more than three glasses in without drinking a single drop. I closed my eyes and listened a minute. It was like something I already knew. Just like I'd known that Ren would want me to play when I accepted his call. But the music wasn't exactly mine, was it? It was something else. Not Florian, but like it.

I smiled. Ren could out write me ten times over, but I wasn't a schlep on the guitar. I wondered if he played guitar? He could probably just look at any instrument and pick it up and play. With that string instrument he was wailing on now. . .

I started in. But it wasn't strings first. It was something akin to Tempest. But a Ren-Crieve-not-quite-Florian version. Bam-bah-dah-dah. Bam-bah-dah-dah. I pounded the beat on my guitar. Ren's strumming paused for a second, but the pipe kept playing. I looked over at him, and there was a smile in his eyes.

Madrano appeared then and so did a techno boost. Peydran stripped off his shirt and started dancing. Grinning, Ren and I played a song worthy of Peydran's dance. I couldn't help it, I got up and danced too.

My guitar I got lost in the music. I barely even knew what I was playing. It was all bam-bah-dah-dah and wild strings of instruments I knew but had never heard. It was sweat, and love, and passion unbridled. It was sweet, and it was freedom.

I knew what I would say, and I knew how it would go.

Panting, I said, "Ren, you have five days. Finish the song then get on a starliner. Peydran's going to buy the tickets."

Ren flicked his eyes over my state of undress. "Promise me a shirtless dance, and I just might."

"Deal."

"Woo-ooo!" Peydran grabbed Ren into a kiss, and the screen went dark.

RYST

"Whatever you want, Freya. Only I have a few traditions from my home world that are important to me. So, you can have everything and anything you want, but I need a few items. I'll be giving some handmade gifts to Nayth, and I will not compromise on this. Do we have an understanding?"

Her mind was so open that she didn't need to answer. She was pretending to balk, but underneath she was way too curious to actually think about rejecting me.

"Exactly what are you planning, Ryst?"

"Here's the materials I need. You will do nothing other than bring me what I request. You will not tell Nayth about it. Got it?"

Her eyebrows nodded in false humility.

"Alright, what do you want me to do?" I asked.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

She grinned. "Evans is going to get your measurements. He likes to get them by hand in case the scanners aren't quite right." That was a lie, but she was good enough at lying that I didn't see the truth in her thoughts.

"I'm designing and stitching your dress, but he's got to do the actual pattern. You'll love it, Ryst. I know."

She was honest about that. She was really excited about it, but once again, I didn't see the dress in her thoughts. She wanted to keep it a secret, so she had it buried in her mind.

I did see Nayth on his knees before her, though. Stars above, what did she make him do? Grovel? She felt really pleased about it.

"You've got about ten minutes before Dad will be ready for your dance lesson. So, ask away, what do you want to know, Ryst?"

"Ah, you're really gonna tell me about the wedding all of a sudden?" I asked suspiciously. She rolled her eyes in response. As if she had been forthcoming in our prior conversations. She had not been. She was up to something.

"Why only thirteen? What's the thirteen? Nayth hasn't told me."

"Actually, that's a Sturm tradition that is cool. We have wedding options in divisions of thirteen. So, the smallest wedding you can have is a Wedding of Thirteen. That's usually what people do for eloping or secret weddings. Small, intimate family weddings. The next biggest size is thirteen times two: twenty-six. And you keep multiplying up as you get bigger."

"The thing about the Wedding of Thirteen is that everything about the wedding is done by the thirteen people you invite. So, I'm making the dress and the suit for the bride and groom. Dad is your dance teacher. Mom, Nana, and Papa are the musicians and decorators. Borden is the officiant, so he'll be doing multiple jobs— like video and photos, and Nika will help him. We do as much as we can, but we still get the staff to make the food, and they get to come to the party."

"It's just thirteen of us for the actual ceremony, and that's a way of keeping the smallest wedding small, see? So, thirteen people pull together a small wedding in thirteen days. But, this one is going to be extra special because half of us are Florians, and it's going to be the Water Lilly theme— the Flower of Abiding Love. So, it will be completely unique, just like you and Iqui."

"What's 'Iqui?' Is that a pet name for your brother or something?"

She laughed, full and free. "No! No! It's an old Florian word for 'brother,' but it means, 'Fruit of my father's loins.' Isn't it foul? I started calling him that when we were kids, and it stuck. I think he hates it and loves it at the same time. It's the best family joke! That's why dad called me 'the fruit of his loins.' You don't know how weird it is for a Sturm Minister to say something like that, but Dad has been with mom too long— hey, did you know that they actually really love each other?" She hunkered down like she was telling me the latest juiciest gossip.

"Oh yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah, they totally slept in the same bed last night. Mom was all happy this morning, and she only gets like that when Dad is—"

Evans, the tailor, cleared his throat and started coughing.

"Oh, Sir Stodgy, I'm just talking about my parents making love, does that make you uncomfortable?" Freya challenged.

"Continue, Freya, please. Include vivid descriptions. I'm all ears," Sir Stodgy replied.

"Evans is a closet voyeur, Ryst. Don't let the kurta fool you. He's probably a wild one between the sheets. Is Mrs. Stodgy happy, Evans?"

"Enthusiastic as always, Freya."

Evans looked at Freya like she was his favorite unruly grandchild. He was fifty-seven years old, impeccably dressed, and had perfect posture and manners. His mind was as tidy as his clothing. Quite refreshing to be around, actually. He had a quick humor about him. Freya's mind told me she adored him and thought teasing him was the best way to tell him she was glad he was there.

"Time for your first dance lesson, Ryst. Try not to break Dad's toes," she winked and was gone.

One more, Ryst. It made me crazy when Nayth did this. I was already full of his ahhh— well, he was already—hmmm. One of the best things about telepathic sex was that it didn't matter if Nayth was post-climax, he knew exactly how to push his hips into mine to take me where we both needed to go for a third wave.

But it was the dirty talk that really got me. He didn't even have to say it out loud; it was all telepathic whispers: Be a good girl and give us another. Do this for me the way I like it. It's just like your dreams, baby, I give you everything you need.

I got lost, and we were pulled under again.

"How are we doing at turning the volume down, Ryst?"

"As long as you can promise me this twice a day, I'm good. You?"

He nodded, "Come here and kiss me some more." Nayth loved kissing after sex. His mouth was languid and soft and sultry. He was all tongue and lazy lips. He tasted so good.

My mind unhelpfully supplied us both with the memory of dancing with his father Klear earlier in the day. Nayth saw the memory and chuckled. Yeah, that was a mood dampener.

"Did Freya make you grovel? On your knees?" I asked.

"Hah!" he barked. "She was about to, but I was saved by Ren playing—" he sat up and asked, "wait, what is that twangy not-guitar stringed instrument? Not the one that was in Peydran's techno dance, something else."

"Twangy? Was it a banjo, maybe?"

"Banjo? Baaan-joohh. Banjo. That's a great word. We should say 'banjo' a lot. Hey— banjo would be a better word for 'cum,' right? 'Hey baby, I'll give you my banjo the way you like it.'"

My hand covered my mouth trying to stop the laughter. "Nayth, give me your banjo again! Again, Nayth! I need your banjo!"

"Wait, did you mean it? You want my banjo again already, Ryst? I can fill you up again, honey."

I laughed at him. "That's totally a turn off. Say it again. It's hilarious."

He stood up and pulled me with him. "Let's go shower, baby, and I'll pack you so full of banjo you'll be satisfied 'til after dinner."

"Gross. Now banjos have permanently lost all appeal. Wait— so Ren was playing the banj—uh, a nice, twangy string instrument for you? How is he?"

"He's rocking it, is how he is. The man is a maniac and the most beautiful creature in the Known Cosmos, well, second to you, of course. Should we get ready for dinner?"

I nodded. Tonight, dinner was at Borden and Annika Sloan's apartment in the city, and I intended to find out exactly why the two of them sent my supernatural senses haywire.