Page 106 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

THIS MEANS NOTHING

THAREN

W ith both hands holding Luella’s head, Tharen turned her face to the side.

She moved easily, like a doll. And fuck, if it didn’t make him even harder knowing she was going to fulfill her end of their bargain.

She made the choice—it didn’t matter to him if she felt forced into it, at least she chose.

She chose him.

In some sick, twisted, roundabout way, Luella chose Tharen.

He didn’t deserve it, but godsdammit, if he wasn’t going to revel in it while he had her.

The Stella twirled around, swirls of sentient light undulating above them, watching, as if to remind her she couldn’t escape this. If not for the gods, they would be alone here. If not for the Lux, it would be only he and Vale who watched her, saw her like this.

Just as the Tenebrae had shadows, the Lux had Stella.

Tharen had only seen the Stella in glimpses during their past journeys to the Temples. The light of the god was notorious for being elusive, impishly hiding away as if it were shy. So to see it dancing openly before him was a shock.

He tried to hide his awe, instead focusing on how soft and pliable Luella was as she sat on the stone altar.

The few candles about the stone room flickered and danced, but the amber glow had nothing on the beautiful strips of rainbow light, created by the stained glass that hung like rigid banners in the room .

Luella’s head was level with his lower stomach—just a bit lower and her lips would be even with his cock where it strained against the fabric of his pants.

She seemed to read his mind, as her wide blue eyes dipped to settle between his legs, before her face grew impossibly hotter, and she jerked her head to the side.

Tharen tutted, his voice low. "Now isn’t the time to be shy.

Not when I plan on claiming you." His fingers spanned over her cheeks, so large against her delicate features. Gods, he could crush her. Why did that make him harder… "Let me kiss you, little lamb. Just a taste. I’ve already had your lips once, what’s one more time? "

Tharen was playing with fire—not just any fire, but dragon fire.

The dragon shifter at his side huffed smoke, the ashy tendrils thick as Tharen breathed it in.

"You won’t claim her fully, Prima," the King warned. Oh? He was using his title, must be serious. "You will take her first pleasure, but her innocence is mine."

"My innocence is mine ," Luella asserted. But it fell flat when her voice wobbled. She tried so hard to be brave.

Tharen stifled a laugh. "For now," he taunted. "I get your first pleasure tonight, but if the King claims your innocence, you have no way of ever getting out of that. Dragons are stubborn bastards."

Vale pulled away from where he was nuzzling Luella’s neck.

It was like he was trying to climb inside her skin—Tharen didn’t blame him.

She smelled so fucking sweet all the time.

He knew it was because they were Vincire, and their scents called to her, too, but godsdamn it made him want to dive between her thighs and see if she tasted just as good there, wet with desire.

"Do not worry about that now, darling," Vale murmured, voice laced with a low hiss, tinged with possession.

"Let Tharen have you. I will watch." He pulled away from her, fingers sifting through the strands of her hair; the rainbow light made it look like it was dyed with every color imaginable, the pure white absorbing the shades. The dragon shifter’s slitted green eyes pinned Tharen to the spot.

"And I will ensure he does not do anything you don’t want. "

The warning was clear. Tharen fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Trust me. She’ll want it."

A powerful ward enveloped the room, preventing them from reaching out with any magic. Bastian’s Mind link wouldn’t work here, so they couldn’t converse privately in their heads.

Vale pressed a hand to Tharen’s collar, fingers digging uncomfortably into his skin. He relished in the bite of pain, it woke him up. The King tugged him forward, nose nearly pressing against his as he hissed, "Make it good for her, or I will find a way to kill you. The curse be damned."

In moments like this, it was hard to call their inability to kill each other a curse, with Vale’s dragon right under the surface of his skin, waiting to strike. Tharen could see the shift of his pupils, the way they elongated between blinks.

That was why Tharen uttered his own warning:

"Put a leash on your dragon. She doesn’t need to be acquainted with fire in such close quarters."

Vale’s hand tightened on Tharen’s collar. He blew out a sharp, smoke-filled breath and then released him. The dragon shifter moved to stand only a few paces away. Tharen didn’t miss the obvious desire straining against his pants. The fucker was as worked up as he was.

Good. He would love to let the King see what he couldn’t have—what Tharen stole.

"I trust my Advisor taught you well, Luella," Vale said roughly. "Why don’t you show me what you learned."

"Good idea," Tharen muttered, still holding her head between his hands. He trained his focus on her as he said, "How do you want to do this, hm?"

He prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t say sweet or gentle. He didn’t do sweet and gentle.

He watched the delicate line of her throat work as she thought.

Finally, the lamb spoke:

"I don’t want you to treat me like you care… because I know you don’t." Luella moved, and he let her, hands growing lax on her cheeks as she fell forward into him. "Don’t kiss me."

Tharen’s breaths were ragged, and he wanted to look at her face while they spoke, but she remained hidden, tucked close to his chest. He tangled his fingers in the back of her hair, feeling the softness.

"I would say we would make a bargain, but we saw how those turn out. So you’ll have to take my word for it, lamb.

" Tharen tugged her head away from his chest, tipping her face up to stare at him.

She blinked, lashes casting shadows on her pale cheeks.

"I won’t kiss you. Not now." As he said it, he crossed his fingers, just out of her eyesight, working hard to hide the smile that threatened to give him away.

A warmth above him made him pause, and they both looked up, to where the Stella danced playfully, a choreographed routine that only it knew the steps to.

"So pretty," Luella whispered.

The Stella curled around itself as it shifted in the prismatic array of colors in the stone room, tendrils of speckled light whispering above the space over her head, as if testing the waters of her, seeking safety.

Luella pulled away from Tharen slightly, a small hand lifting up above her head, fingers outstretched as she reached for the Stella. Tharen expected it to hide or disappear, but it did neither of those things.

No, the Stella seemed to melt into her. Warm sparkles turned into a liquid-like substance, dripping into the palm of her outstretched hand, pooling over her fingertips and running down her bare forearm until it curled around her chest, snaking over her breasts and dipping down, nuzzling against her waist like vines.

Luella gave a startled laugh, the sound like the faint chime of bells as she looked down at the Stella.

"I’ve missed you," she uttered, so low that Tharen thought he misheard. Maybe he did. How could she miss it?

The change in her demeanor was evident, the way the tension left her as the Stella stuck to her skin. Sparkles of stardust clung to her lashes and dusted along her cheekbones and across her collarbones, skimming over the Binding mark and the mark of their bargain on her chest, as if hiding it away.

As the Stella mingled with Luella’s skin and lit her up, he found his hands stilling against her head, growing almost… reverent.

Or something along those lines.

Tharen wasn’t a shifter, didn’t have the same rooted faith in the gods as Vale did, but even the mage could not deny that something bigger was at play here.

Tharen found Vale’s eyes, where he stood a few paces away. The King was arrested by the sight of their Vincire and the Stella on her skin, green eyes wide; his chest was still, as if he was holding his breath.

"Luella," Tharen uttered, voice shattering her starry reverie.

She looked up, and the galaxies shining within her eyes did not dim as she met his gaze.

Tendrils of Stella curled around her hair and fanned out over her pale cheekbones, just as his hands had done earlier.

"How do you want to do this?" he repeated.

Imbued with strength from the gods, Luella’s gaze did not falter as she peered up at him from her seated position on the altar. The air grew heavy, thick with tension and desire.

"Touch me," she breathed.

At her demand, Tharen moved.

He picked her up, taking her place on the stone altar, and sat her back down, straddling his lap.

Her nose brushed his chin, and her thighs bracketed his.

And gods, she was so soft atop him, trembling slightly, but not from fear, this time—but from unadulterated want.

Tharen felt it too. The electricity between them.

He settled one hand on her hips, the thin material of her gown riding up high on her thighs. His eyes fell to the small birthmark on her upper thigh, and he ran the pad of his thumb over it. "I’ve wanted to touch this since Graves mentioned it."

She shivered, fingers curling in his shirt.

Tharen ran the tip of his finger over the Stella on the side of her cheekbone. It snaked away from his touch, tendrils of light hiding in her hair where it peeked out at him from behind the white curls.

The faint touch he was able to get offered its warmth, tiny zaps that traveled up his fingertips to his heart. But the utterly consuming nature of touching a product of the gods had nothing on the soft weight of his Vincire on his lap.

Blasphemous.

He waited for lightning to strike him, but the only charge he felt was the pure heat between them, crackling.

Her scent wrapped around him, and he chased after it, gathering the ends of her hair and winding it around his fist as he tugged her head back, revealing her pale neck. Her pulse pounded faintly against her thin, delicate skin, and he pressed the tip of his nose to it.

"Fuck," he cursed against her skin. "I want to eat you alive."

Her heart picked up.

His cock was aching, and she shifted over him, hitting just the right spot that made him groan.

She gasped softly, stilling against him.

Tharen lifted his head from where it had been buried in her neck. "You’re so…"

Vulnerable, naive, innocent?

None of those words fit.

With the Stella still dancing along her skin, Tharen found his callousness quelled—unable to be so cruel with a gods-ordained fae in his presence.

Her chin trembled as he continued to stare at her, as if she, too, knew this was growing to be much more than a fulfillment of their bargain.

"This is not real," she whispered against his chest. "It doesn’t mean anything."

"If that makes it easier for you."

Her teeth dug into her biteable lower lip as if fucking toying with him. "It does," she said softly. "It doesn’t mean anything. This is to fulfill our bargain, s-so I won’t owe you anything anymore."

She gave a tiny gasp as his fingers dug into the base of her skull, his other hand forcing her down firmer against his lap, right over his hard cock.

Pleasure radiated out from their touching bodies, so strong that he felt his control threaten to snap.

She wasn’t wearing any underclothes, and he felt her heat against him, covered only by the barrier of his pants and her thin gown, which could easily be torn away.

He wanted the barrier gone, wanted to bury himself inside her.

Tharen’s lip curled. "In that case…"

Ignoring her broken sound of protest, Tharen lifted her off his lap and laid her down fully on the altar.

Her white hair fanned out over her head as the hem of her nearly see-through gown rode up on her hips, revealing the sharp angles of her hip bones, and pooling between her thighs, covering where he truly wanted to see .

Her chest rose and fell, straining against the thin fabric of her gown as she stared up at him. Splayed out on the altar, a sacrificial lamb.

Tharen braced a hand by her head, reveling in her low, sharp intake of air as he hovered over her. The side of his face brushed her cheek as he whispered against her ear, "Know that this is your doing."