𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐄
Ilya moved into the center of the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow him into the open space. "The basic Lycan waltz," he explained, "is a simple three-count rhythm. I'll lead."
"Obviously," I replied, trying to mask my nerves with a bit of dry humor. "I'd probably lead us straight into a wall."
That almost-smile touched his lips again. "Probably."
He extended his hand, palm up in a formal invitation, and I placed mine in his. His grip was firm and steady, providing a sense of security I hadn't realized I needed. "Other hand on my shoulder," he instructed. I obeyed, feeling him place his free hand lightly on my waist—careful and professional, maintaining a respectful distance between us.
"The rhythm is one-two-three, one-two-three. You'll step back with your right foot on one, side with your left on two, and close with your right on three. Then we repeat."
