Awakening (Born From Shadows #1)
Chapter Eight

Looking down at the mass of people gathered, some dancing others were talking, Tatianna didn’t know what to do. She had yet to walk down and mingle with the rich, she was worried that they would see straight through her disguise. See the impostor for what she truly was and kick her out of the dance and back onto the cold desolate streets. . Although she had a weird feeling they wouldn’t discover the truth. From what she had heard on the street, most of the rich were not as inquisitive as her, which meant they were more credulous to deception. Now that she looked akin to them, they would accept her. Funny how much a bath and clothes transmuted the way people perceive and judge someone. She was still the same person deep down, but for tonight she would pretend.

Her stomach grumbled as she stared hungrily at a table to the side littered with food as if it were rubbish on the street.

“What are you waiting for?” Freya beamed, exhilarated about what was transpiring. Tatianna did not reply, still in shock at the abundance of food. She followed Freya down the staircase, trying not to trip. She was still getting used to the idea of walking in the long dress and shoes that gave her no help in balancing each step.

There was gentle music being played by an orchestra in the corner of the room. The sound each instrument made, the massive chandelier and vast amount of people was like nothing she had experienced before.

“Wow, you actually made her look good,” Freya’s older brother commented on her appearance. He was wearing clothes similar to most of the males in the room. Black pants and jacket with a white buttoned shirt. Tatianna wondered why all the men lacked uniqueness but realised it was most likely a societal norm for them to dress in that manner. It did look awfully uncomfortable to her, especially the thing wrapped around his neck. Had she been wearing it she would be constantly on edge that someone would use that neck trap to try and kill her.

“She was always pretty, Riley. I just made it a bit more noticeable,” Freya replied with a massive grin on her face. Watched the boy, or was he an adult? She did not know. Whatever he was, he turned his attention towards her.

“Well…whatever your name was, would you like a dance?” Riley said in thought.

“Tatianna,” she snarled in reply.

“I’m sorry, Tatianna, is that a yes, or no?”

She looked over to Freya not knowing what to do. It would be rude to accept their comforts and then say no to him, but she did not know how to dance.

“I don’t know how,” she replied honestly.

Riley smiled at her, “I’ll teach you. Just follow my movements.”

He offered his hand out towards her. Tatianna glanced over at the other dancers, how intimate they were and she suddenly realised that they would have to be uncomfortably close.

“I won’t bite,” Riley said. But I might, she thought. She decided to push her fears aside and take his hand.

Riley led her towards the centre of the room and cautiously placed his hand lightly onto her waist. She jumped at the contact but did not move to take the hand off of her. She then looked at the other females dancing and decided to place her arm on his shoulder as the others had done to their male counterparts.

He was much taller than her and shared Freya’s golden hair, although his had streaks of brown running through it. His eyes were a crystal blue, staring straight at Tatianna and she started to feel self-conscious of her body.

They moved together to the best of her abilities. She was slightly out of sync trying to figure out the correct place for her feet, occasionally stepping on Riley’s feet. She constantly looked around to the other women to see what they were doing and was avoiding looking at Riley’s eyes. She hated eye contact, that was when people always ran away from her like she was a disease.

A hand tapped her shoulder and she whirled around in seconds, about to reach for her knife when the sight froze her. Standing in front of her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She felt the need to scowl at herself for such childish thoughts, but she couldn’t. He was her definition of perfection when it came to looks. Muscular, but not too muscular. Tall, but not too tall. Symmetrical features and skin so smooth she wanted to reach out and touch it. She refrained herself from such actions. Unfortunately, she knew that in most cases good looks meant a bad personality. Nature had to balance out somehow.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, his voice was deep and husky. Who he was asking she did not know, but she felt bad for momentarily forgetting she was dancing with Riley.

“Of course,” Riley said without hesitation. Tatianna was confounded by the action, knowing how possessive people can be. There was no stare down of dominance to determine who was the alpha male. She just assumed she wasn’t worth the trouble.

This new man offered his hand to her and for some reason, she felt the sudden urge to run away before his image of her was tainted by the scars on her body. The cloak only covered so much. Despite this consternation, she grabbed onto his calloused hand and wanted to be near him. It was a feeling she was not acquainted with. The moment he placed his hand on her waist it made her forget everything else. Her hunger, how she wasn’t rich, how she didn’t belong here, even the fact that he could easily harm her in such a close proximity. It was like it all didn’t matter anymore.

She was still struggling with the concept of dancing, but for him, she was trying her best. Not once stepping on his feet or bumping into him.

“You aren’t like the other girls here,” he whispered to her. Her eyes shot wide open. Did he know? He couldn’t have… could he?

“What do you mean?” She asked, keeping control of her voice.

“Your hands,” he said, his thumb rubbed along her palm. “They are calloused, rough. Your arms have scars,” he perpetuated and meticulously dragged his fingers up her arm whilst continuing their waltz. “And I have always said that scars tell stories that no imagination could come up with, so tell me what your story is?”

She froze up, not knowing how to reply. Suddenly her years of lying to people were trivial. She couldn’t utter a word. He chuckled at her silence knowing his assumptions were correct.

“Then, Storm, how about you tell me your name?” he asked.

“Tatianna, why did you say storm?” She asked perplexed at the nickname. She had been called many things before, but never storm.

“Perhaps one day I can tell you, Tatianna,” he replied. She almost shivered at the sound of her name coming from his mouth, but she was too preoccupied with holding back a snort. If he knew what she was he would let go faster than light itself. She was surprised he hadn’t run from her eyes yet. Most did.

“What is your name?” She asked.

“Nikolas Trelliard, but you Storm, can call me Nik,” he replied. Trelliard…oh shit, she thought. He was the Prince.