Marvis POV
"She's stronger than you give her credit for," Mary said, her arms crossed as she leaned on the glass railing of my office balcony.
The rain from yesterday had cleared, leaving soft streaks on the windows and a strange quietness in the building. Melody was somewhere in the house resting, hopefully. She'd been through enough. I hadn't even begun to process what I saw at the warehouse.
Blood. Fire. Precision.
She wasn't just surviving anymore.
She was... becoming something more.
"I never said she wasn't strong," I replied, sitting on the arm of the couch, watching the wind move the curtains. "She just doesn't know when to pause."
Mary laughed lightly. "Sounds familiar."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't compare her to me."
"But she's just like you, Marvis. That's why you're obsessed."
"Obsessed?"
"You can't even say her name without your jaw twitching," she teased, nudging me. "Don't think I didn't notice."
Before I could answer, we both stopped.
Music. Faint. Bass-heavy. Slow and hypnotic.
Mary raised an eyebrow. "Is that… music?"
I listened closely. It was a remix, slowed down. Jordan Adetunji's Kehlani at 0.97x speed.
And it was coming from the old dance room that no one used.
"She's not…" I stood up fast.
Mary followed behind, curiosity lit across her face.
We turned the corner toward the glass hall. As we approached, the lights were low, but the music was loud enough to vibrate the floor. And through the glass wall
There she was.
Melody. Dancing. No, performing.
Her body moved with fierce rhythm each step precise but wild. The kind of dance that didn't ask for attention. It demanded it.
She spun with her back arched, arms fluid, hips swaying to every beat. Her sweat glistened under the dim lights, but she didn't look tired. She looked alive.
Her black tank top clung to her frame, and her joggers hugged every curve. She bent forward in a butt-focused squat and then popped back up with a fierce spin, her hair flying behind her.
Mary gasped under her breath. "Whoa…"
I didn't move. Couldn't.
She moved in ways I hadn't seen before hips grinding low, feet shuffling sharp and fast. One second she was turning smoothly, the next she was dropping into a workout-level twerk that made my heartbeat spike.
Melody, sweet, stubborn, reckless Melody, was on fire.
I swallowed hard as she leaned against the mirror wall, arching her back in a slow grind. She turned and made eye contact with her reflection, not knowing we were watching.
Her gaze was intense. Confident. Dangerous.
"Okay…" Mary muttered with wide eyes. "I see now why you're obsessed."
I didn't answer. Melody suddenly turned, catching us in the reflection.
She froze mid-move, eyes wide in surprise. The music played on.
Mary cleared her throat and took a step back. "I'll leave you two to… talk."
Before I could even respond, she slipped away with a smirk.
Melody turned around slowly, chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat.
"You saw that?" she asked, wiping her face with her towel.
"I saw everything," I replied, voice low.
She took a small step toward me. "Embarrassed?"
"No," I said, walking toward her now. "Mesmerized."
She blinked up at me, trying to play it cool. "I was just working out…"
"That wasn't just a workout."
I was close enough to see the light layer of sweat on her collarbone. My fingers itched to touch it.
Her voice came out soft. "I like dancing when I feel trapped. It frees me."
"You looked free."
She gave me a small smile, lowering her eyes. "I didn't mean for you to see."
"But I'm glad I did," I said, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "You were… breathtaking."
Melody met my eyes. Her breathing slowed. The space between us grew warm, electric.
"I'm still flushed from dancing," she whispered.
"I know," I said.
I tilted my head, letting my eyes fall to her lips. She noticed.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You're staring."
"Can you blame me?"
I leaned in. She didn't move.
Our lips touched softly, hesitantly at first.
Then again…deeper this time.
My hand slid behind her neck, pulling her closer.
She let out a quiet sigh, fingers clinging to the front of my shirt. Her lips parted, moving with mine like we'd been waiting for this exact moment.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't forced. It was real.
When we finally pulled away, I rested my forehead against hers.
"You really are something, Melody Quinn."
She smiled. "You make me feel that way."
I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her against me.
And for the first time in days, everything else melted away the danger, the chaos, the war.
All I saw was her. Dancing. Fighting. Living.
My queen.