Christine was not sure what she had respected in response to her confession but his reaction was not what she had anticipated at all. But without thought or fight she moved. Always his to command it did not even cross her mind to question him. Deny him what he wanted. Deny her what she wanted. Clearly he was not in disagreement with what she had said otherwise she would have known within moments that he was. She had witnessed what he was able to do when angered and this was clearly not an act of hate or anger.
She just could not pinpoint what it was.
But that did not worry her nor was she wishing to press him for a response or an explanation. Her trust, as always, was in him and if this was how he wished to continue their dance then she would be accepting and pliable. Obeying his instructions and moving almost in perfect unison with him. They were one soul and one body for a moment as she had always envisioned them. He was always a part of her.
Or perhaps it was the other way around. Perhaps she was always part of him.
Either way it was perfection.
Something was running through her at an alarming speed as her heart began to race and not from the faster moves. She was a dancer. She could move faster and in more complicated styles than this and not be out of breath at all. No this was something else. Passion. Lust. Intensity. A deep need which she was slowly opening within herself and no longer knowing.