He offered his arm to her. "May I have this dance?"

The audience was enraptured as she rose to her feet, a wide smile on her face. She moved aside an imaginary princess skirt from her imaginary gown so that she could step forward. "I thought you'd never ask."

They took a few steps to the front of the stage. He calculated his reactions to his own movements, his hand placed on her lower back, the other clasped in her own. As he swallowed down the thrill of it, he tried not to wonder what she tasted like, immediately finding he couldn't help himself. Cinnamon, he knew it would be cinnamon.

He stepped forward to begin the dance. She shuffled awkwardly to the side. The audience's laughter grew as she stumbled with every move until, in an attempt to get her feet out of the awkward crossed position she'd found them in, she stumbled and collapsed against his chest. He caught her and for a moment his lips were near enough to her ear that he could whisper something into it. If anyone caught him doing so, they'd assume it was simply part of the act.

Sybille's eyes narrowed at his words. Hands crossed in front of her, she pressed against his chest as though she was using him to regain her balance. She waited a second, feeling for it and finally there it was, the too slow beat of a bloodthirster's heart. She took a step back from him and he snapped his fingers.

"You may sit down now." His attention left her. Or it was meant to look that way, at least. "Wasn't she amazing, ladies and gentlemen?"

The audience applauded wildly. She was amazing. They had no idea how much so.