She was dancing the White Swan. The choreography was different. Slower, harder, like she was trying to move through water instead of air. It had been getting harder every time.
She shook the sensation off and concentrated on the movements of her feet and arms, every perfect angle convincing her that she had no reason to worry, that despite everything that had happened,
she was in control.
That was when the music changed. All at once, hard and sharp and seductive, and she could feel the presence behind her.
It should have been Rothbart, or the Prince, but instead she felt something else.
It was hot and close, and the hands she felt skim across her stomach as it danced with her were small and delicate and insistent.
It pressed against her back, and she sucked in a breath as she felt the curve of breasts against her spine.
When she spun around to face it, there was the Black Swan, the smug, seductive smile cutting into her, and she gasped because for some reason the face looking back at her wasn't her own.
As the smile grew, Nina felt her breath grow short.
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