They didn't come to the club to dance or touch or sweat. They came to watch, and sometimes they danced and touched and sweated. Once in a while, she took him back to her place. There, they just lay close in the dark and listened to the way their breath naturally synchronized.
She stood against the counter, a smile pulling her face into something twisted. A pale yellow drink swirled in her left hand, the toothpick clinking rhythmically.
He came up behind her and put his hands on her hips, because they hadn't touched in a while. "I think I spotted one."
She let out a soft, full-body sigh. "Not tonight."
She felt him stiffen with surprise. "I thought -- "
Turning into him so every part of their exposed skin brushed, she breathed into his neck, "I'm tired of choosing."
He flinched at every soft word tickling his hairline. "But that's what we do."
"That's what you do."
"You watch, too."
She pulled away, her bottom lip curling. "I want to dance."
He shot her glass a meaningful glance. "This isn't you."
Her head tilted slightly, she considered him for a moment, then scrunched up her nose in a faint expression of disgust. "Or maybe it is."
"You're not scared of me," he said. "If this was you, you would have told me."
"I'm not afraid of you," she echoed. She stared off at nothing beyond his shoulder.
He waited a beat. "But..."
"But nothing," she said, grabbing his hand. "Let's dance."
"No." He pulled it back. "But what?"
"But," she said, tracing a line down the front of his starched dress shirt, the only one unstained by blood, "I'm afraid you'll go."
"I won't."
"Choosing people is your life." She didn't want it to be an accusation, but she could feel her eyes boring into him with the unanswered questions she finally allowed to surface. Her voice dropped as the music died down between songs. "And I enjoy it, sure -- I need the blood to keep me sane."
"To keep you alive," he corrected gently, brushing her cheek.
She avoided the affection in his gaze. "And you need it to keep the world in order."
He shrugged, a learned helplessness in the gesture. "Guardian angels don't have it easy."
"So we're perfect," she said, laughing a little sadly. "For each other, I mean. And as pawns in some cosmic game, because who -- what we are keeps us from abandoning our guidelines much."
He paused for a beat filled with the thundering of the next song's intro.
"But?" he mouthed.
She leaned in again, and this time she ran her tongue along the line of his neck. Then she traced the faintly metallic line of saliva with the tip of her nose and raked her fangs down his skin. She felt him shudder under her hands.
"Th-that's new," he stammered when she drew away.
"Dance with me?" she said, smiling, offering her hand as the music throbbed around them.
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