The song had ended, and I felt his hand start to slip from mine. I glanced at Ellasbeth, uptight and glaring at me as Al whispered in her ear. The thought of the unending indifference Trent would endure lay heavy on my mind, and I licked my lips in a sudden decision. I tightened my hold on his hand, and Trent eyed me suspiciously.

His attempt to rock away from me turned into a tug, and we seamlessly stepped into “Sophisticated Lady.” He spun me, and I caught a glimpse of Ellasbeth, white-faced as she listened to Al. She was a big girl. She could take it.

It was obvious that Trent had felt my desire to keep dancing, and I wondered if he went along with it simply to bother Ellasbeth. My focus blurred, and as Trent kept silent with his own thoughts, I found myself imagining his life with her. I was sure they would be okay. They would learn to love each other. It would likely take only a few decades.

My gut tightened. Now or never. “Ah, Trent,” I said, and his gaze sharpened on me. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet. Can you come over tomorrow about four or so?”

His eyebrows rose, and without a hint showing that I was about to complicate his life beyond reason, he chided me, saying, “Ms. Morgan. Your pulse has increased.”

I licked my lips, my feet moving by rote. “Yeah. So can you make it?”

Disbelief shone in his green eyes. “Rachel,” he said irately, “I’m a little busy.”

The song was at the refrain, and I knew he wouldn’t dance another with me. “You know that old card you have in your great room, framed on the wall?” I blurted.

That got his attention, and he took a slow breath. “The tarot cards?”

Nervous, I nodded. “Yes. I know someone who looks like the person on the devil card.”

Trent’s expression went cold, and his hand pressed heavy on my waist. “The devil card? Is this some sort of deal you’ve got going?”

“Jeez, Trent,” I said, insulted. “Not the devil. The woman he’s dragging away.”

“Oh.” His focus blurred as he thought that over, and then he frowned. “That is in really bad taste. Even for you.”

He thinks it’s a joke? “Her name is Ceri,” I said, stumbling over my words. “She used to be Al’s familiar before I rescued her. She was born in the Dark Ages. She’s just started putting her life back together and is ready to meet what’s left of her kin.”

Trent stopped, and we stood unmoving on the dance floor. Shock showed in his eyes.

“And if you hurt her,” I added, my hands leaving him, “I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll track you down like a dog and kill you.”