The Calling by Barbara Steiner Read Free Book Online

white? Their lips were black, with the exception of Primavera and Rima who wore crimson and purple slashes across their mouths. Red dripped over their chins as if they had already fed but still hungered.
    Pretending was unnecessary. Miki felt her stomach turn to liquid fire and her legs buckle under her. Someone—one of the troupe caught her as her body became limp.
    In the next sequence the music flowed through her, haunting minor notes, held and drawn out to periods of silence, as if the musician was holding his breath.
    She was aware of the other dancers, but she felt hypnotized or numb to any need to initiate movement. She lay draped over open hands, passed from dancer to dancer.
    She felt the sway as four hands passed her to a dancer on the swing. She felt the spot on her back that made contact with his arm. Perfectly balanced, Davin placed his other hand to support her neck, exposing it to his teeth.
    His mouth on the hollow of her throat seemed familiar. She found she wanted him to feed, to use her blood to nourish his body. There was a willing compliance to his need that went beyond the sensual, beyond any male-female exchange. She felt a need to give her very life to him.
    When the music stopped and she felt herself set upright on the stage, it took several minutes for her to break out of the spell of the dance number. No one spoke to her, no one hurried her, or seemed to want to break the mood they had achieved for themselves.
    Her eyes met those of Davin first. He smiled, then stepped toward her and hugged her. Romney and Kyle followed suit and she knew they had accepted her. With the possible exception of Rima and Elah, she was a welcome part of their troupe now, a part of this theater family.
    A warm thrill filled her chest and spread to her stomach, then her arms and legs. She had never experienced this closeness. Her mother seldom touched her. She had few memories of her father. She had touched other dancers in her classes and recitals, but the experience, the sensation, never held this—this—what? Love? Maybe love was the right word. This was all new to her and a bit overwhelming.
    She wanted to sit, alone, and think—or not think. Remember. Bottle up these feelings so she could keep them always.
    â€œLet’s take a break,” Barron suggested, as if he knew that Miki needed some time. “Half hour. Bathrooms are in the front hall, Miki.” Barron pointed to the back of the auditorium.
    Miki hurried away, willing no one to speak to her. She stayed in the bathroom, alone, as long as she dared. Washing her face with cold water, she sprinkled drops on her warm wrists, and toweled them dry. The ceramic tile beneath her bare feet was cold, and she let the chill steady her legs.
    Slightly recovered, thinking she could work again, Miki started back down the theater’s center aisle. She stopped at the cushioned seat where she had placed her things and took a peach from a brown bag in her dance case. The sweet juice ran over her chin as she bit into it, and she mopped it up with her sleeve. She didn’t eat much when she was rehearsing, but suddenly she felt starved. Did the troupe stop for dinner?
    Where was everyone?
    Davin stepped out of the wings and walked toward her. “We decided to call it a night, Miki. Everyone is hungry and tired.”
    â€œAre you going someplace together?” She hungered to be even more accepted and hinted to be included in their dinner plans.
    â€œNot really. Would you like for me to take you home?”
    â€œOh, no. I’m not afraid to go home alone. I do it all the time. I’ll catch the bus.”
    He seemed to think this over. “All right, but I’ll worry about you.”
    â€œThanks, Davin, but I’ll be fine.” She wanted him to take her home. She wanted to say yes. But she didn’t want to appear too eager. There was a look on his face that she couldn’t read. Had he gotten carried away and now felt