Page 108 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

He wasn’t speaking, and she grew emboldened in this quiet.

Luella pulled her hand away from between them, chin lifting as if daring him to claim her lips in truth. "You’re a liar."

"Of course. But what makes you think that right now, when all you should be thinking about is my hand between your thighs?"

She gave a soft shake of her head, the stone hard against the base of her skull. "There’s n-no pretending. Not with you."

The threads between them sang a song, warped and distorted, but one she was familiar with, nonetheless. Reminiscent of the tune written into the fabric that made up the threads of the bond between her and Az, her and Bastian…

"You care for me," she whispered, placing a shaking hand over her heart, fingertips brushing the delicate chain of the amulet he had gifted her. "I feel it. Right here."

His jaw worked as he stared down at her.

"I care for myself. For what I want. And right now, that’s you.

" Light blue eyes dipped to her chest. "Tomorrow, that could be your heart on my mantel. Don’t get greedy, lamb.

You have five of us, bound to be that not all of us are capable of feeling anything more than lust for you.

Capable of wanting nothing more than to fuck you. "

Luella’s chin quivered. The line of his body over hers was imposing, the weight and unfaltering intensity of his stare… It all told a story forged in blatant dislike, if not hatred. Yet?—

The threads within her told a different tale.

She felt him. His emotions. More than she had ever felt before.

Her eyes fell closed, and he scoffed, as if thinking she was weakly giving in to the tears.

But Luella was searching inside herself, chasing after the five threads within her that all held different feelings, yet one thing was common: a fierce sort of protectiveness… But was it for her?

Could they feel her, too? Her almost innocent curiosity for a non-innocent act? The way her breath hitched each time his hand flexed against her? How Vale’s nearness did not scare her, but only fed into the encompassing yearning that flowed throughout her body?

Could they feel the rightness that had sunk into her as soon as she had stepped into the stone room?

Luella knew that the mage did not truly want to kill her, even if the words he uttered held violence.

She opened her eyes, finding he was already staring down at her, lips curled into a sneer. Yet his hands were not harsh on her body, where he held her head and cupped between her legs.

Another time, then. She would crack him. Vowed to wear him down like ocean waves eroded the rocks. If he was capable of growing soft, why could it not be her who did it?

She found herself saying: "If that’s what you believe." The stardust swirled around her, brushing down her thighs to chase after his touch, its warmth made her choke out a soft gasp. "F-finish this, then."

Gulping, she allowed herself to give in to the warmth of the stardust on her body, even while shameful trepidation and an overwhelming sense of disbelief threatened to make the corners of her vision grow dark.

Tharen’s gaze chased after the stardust, followed by his hands, but it evaded him every time, curling lower down her body. His fingertips trailed after the path it made on her skin, down her shoulders, over her ribs, across her stomach.

"Who knew you’d be so demanding?" he nearly sang, breath blowing hot waves against her flesh as his fingers drummed over her core. "Who knew I wouldn’t mind?"

He used the heel of his hand to grind against her. Her whole body radiated with pleasure, from the tips of her bare toes to the top of her head, not one part of her was untouched by the consuming feeling.

She swallowed each sound that threatened to give away just how much she was enjoying this, winding up to a precipice she had never reached before.

For the second—or maybe third time; it was getting hard to keep track—Luella pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle her cries. And Tharen seemed to have had enough.

He ripped her hand away, clasping their fingers and keeping her arm held by her head, pinned down against the unforgiving stone.

"I won’t tell you again. Those sounds are mine.

You don’t get to hide them. If I can’t stifle your pretty pleas, then neither can you.

" He tightened his hold on her palm, his hand so large that her fingers stretched uncomfortably.

"Every time you gasp, I want it to remind you of who’s forcing those sounds from your lips.

" Each word was punctuated by the grinding of his hand against her core, fingers digging into her tightly over the thin fabric of her gown.

She was aware of her bareness underneath—the material did relatively nothing to keep him away. Each movement made his forearm brush against the soft flesh of her bare inner thighs. He was so close to that aching, wet heat. But not close enough.

She wanted her gown gone, but never wanted to take it off.

Torn in two.

Her back twinged uncomfortably, making her shift upward to relieve the pressure against the unforgiving stone.

Tharen loomed over her. She forgot about Vale, the stardust… their bargain.

"Is this—" She hiccuped a soft sound. He ran his nose along the length of her neck, fingers locking tightly with hers to give her no ability to hide herself away.

"Is this n-normal? Why do I feel so…"

She could barely string together a coherent sentence .

Desperate to make the pit in her stomach abate, she attempted to close her legs.

Tharen used his thigh to keep her legs splayed open, fingers still stroking over her core. He did something— something that made her gasp, the sound ending on a choked cry.

"That’s it," the mage muttered darkly.

Her head fell to the side on the altar.

"Tharen, I think I?—"

He shushed her. "Don’t try to stop it."

The cliff she teetered over seemed higher than ever. Would her bones crush from the force of the fall?

In a simmering moment of silence amid their desire, Tharen caught her eyes. Ice chips on her skin. He smelled like standing amid a snowstorm, winter’s chill burning her flesh until it was numb and stinging.

Tendrils of warmth brushed over her temples. Tharen’s eyes flicked up to where the stardust skimmed over her face, before disappearing into her hair.

She tried to take a full breath, but couldn’t quite get there. Stilted, as it caught in her chest.

"I’m s-scared of falling," Luella managed.

Silence lingered.

Tharen opened his mouth, but promptly closed it with an uncharacteristically soft shake of his head; the ends of his white hair brushed her collarbones from the movement.

Whatever he had truly wanted to say evaporated.

"Let go," he finally said. "There’s no stopping this." Cool air brushed against her as the hem of her gown rode higher. He didn’t touch where she burned most, but his calloused fingers traced over the junction where her thighs met her core.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight it. But a gasp was torn from within her.

Hot breath teased her jawline as he whispered against her flushed neck:

"Don’t fall, Princess. Fly."

His fingers worked her right over the edge.

And she broke .

Pleasure consumed her like thick, foam-tipped ocean waves. Stole the breath from her lungs. Made her head light. In the haze of novel carnality, she was dimly aware of something tangling around her ankle.

Shallow breaths ratcheted out of her lips.

Tharen continued to stroke her, seeing her through it.

Fissuring tendrils of pleasure consumed her. It rose higher. Growing hotter. Burning deeper.

In a litany of sparks, she exploded, back bowing and toes curling as the soft flesh between her thighs grew wet with a rush of damp heat. Aftershocks rippled through her, leaving her breathless with each lingering spasm that brought her down from her high.

As the remnants of her release faded, a thick, unimaginable pain replaced the pleasure, making her head swim from the shift in feeling.

Her eyes shot open. "W-wait! Tharen ?—"

Fire licked up her spine, so intense that the very mountain they were in shook.

Her hands fumbled, seeking safety in Tharen’s large body.

His icy eyes were wide with fear. Lips moving, but she couldn’t hear him over the roaring in her head—or maybe that was her.

Was she screaming? Her mouth was open, vocal cords aching as the pain in her back grew, making tears leak from the corners of her eyes.

Her very insides were being rearranged.

The fall hurt. It hurt , and her bones did feel like they were being crushed. Splattered on the stone floor.

Maybe that would hurt less. Less than… whatever this was.

Over the roaring of blood in her ears, a ragged scream tore through the noise— hers . Tears raced down her cheeks as whatever was inside her tore outward in a burst of blood and flayed skin.

Ripped apart.

The agony and intense pressure at her back made her bolt upright in a flurry of tears and scarlet, staining the grey stone under her and the pure white of her gown.

As if she were trying to run away from it.

But no, she couldn’t run. The pain followed her, growing starker as she found herself pressing her cheek against Tharen’s chest, her legs curled up, tangling with his.

His thigh was still between hers, pressing against her damp heat.

Pleasure had left her, a dim memory, replaced only by this torture.

The threads inside her reached out with abandon, desperate to be saved.

Voices pierced the haze of pain, but Luella did not move, tucked close against Tharen’s chest as the mountains continued to tremble around them.