Page 109 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

BLEEDING GRACE

AZ

I n the dark corridors of the Temples of Aedis, Az bit down on his fist, teeth tearing into the flesh of his knuckles to stop the low groan that bubbled up in his throat.

Gods.

Every sigh, every whimper—the demon heard it all with his acute senses.

And every little noise Lu made was torture.

But at least he wasn’t the only one suffering.

The demon’s amber eyes lifted, finding Bastian, where he sat on the stone floors, head tipped back against the walls. The vampire’s eyes were closed, but Az wasn’t an idiot—Bastian was just as affected as he was.

A cry sounded behind the stone door—a large circle that rolled to the side, hiding where he, Bastian, and Graves lay in wait. They could not stray far from their Vincire, not with the bond echoing through them like the thunder rumbling through the thick stone of the mountains.

The small storage room was where they were condemned to listen in on the Prima steal their Vincire’s first climax. There was a small exit at the side, leading to winding passages that opened up to a private trail in the mountains, where the Temple Mothers received deliveries.

Graves was silent, as usual; his hood was pushed back, but his cowl concealed the lower half of his face. He stared, unwaveringly, at the stone door. He had barely moved.

The three males stiffened at a soft cry, muffled behind the stone.

It was Bastian who broke the tentative silence. "The way she sounds…" The vampire’s throat worked.

The call roared with an amalgamation of feelings. Fear, nervousness, but above all: desire—entwining closely with his own. Where did her desire and his converge?

His cock ached as he recalled how sweet her lips tasted.

He wanted to be the one to drag those sounds from her lips. Taste her. Touch her. Learn every spot that made her sound so sweet. But he was… nothing. Had been with no one. Unworthy to be with her.

Az’s inner musings were shattered by a thrum of terror that tugged in his gut. Lust turned to agony.

He stumbled, and Bastian shot up to a stand.

The mountain shook around them, dust raining from above, making him cough.

Amid the grey dust particles from the disturbed sediment, Graves went deathly still. "If that prick hurt her, I will pluck his eyeballs out with the nerve endings attached and string them up over a fire so he can feel them burn slowly."

Hot, thick rage burned inside Az.

"Beast, the door," Bastian prodded.

Ever the calm one, the vampire inclined his head, but his eyes were deep red as he ran his tongue over the tip of his fangs. They stepped aside to allow Az to brace his hands on the edge and push. The stone rolled away, revealing the room within.

The air was thick with her scent, strawberries ripe with desire, and a cream so thick and sweet that it melted against his tongue with every breath. It was an effort to walk with the way his cock swelled.

Iron blood filled the room. More than just a drop.

"What in the Above…" Bastian breathed.

Overwhelmed by the scent of her blood, so pungent it nearly overtook the sweetness of her arousal, Az didn’t see it at first.

But when he did, his legs turned numb as he stumbled forward. "Gods. Lu . "

In shock, he didn’t even register moving, but he found himself standing by the altar.

Delicate wings jutted from Luella’s back, not with triumph, but with bleeding grace.

White feathers splattered with fresh blood that clung to the down like thick oil paint on parchment.

They folded closely to her body as if to protect her and themselves, the soft tips brushing the stone altar at her back.

Crimson droplets fell from the ends, whispers of agony, each one a silent echo of the flesh they’d torn through to emerge.

Her hiccuping sobs made his vision cloud with disbelief and anger as consuming pain carried down their connection.

"Lu." There was a distant thud as Az’s knees hit the ground. He couldn’t keep himself upright.

Luella’s face was buried in Tharen’s chest, the mage’s hands hovering over her shoulders, shell-shocked as she cried into him, her small body spasming with waves of pain they all felt.

Thick green vines with blooming roses tangled around her ankles, wrapping up to her thighs as they held her hostage.

The rumbling in the mountains grew louder. A harsh crack resounded through the stone room.

Voices tore Az away from staring at the angel wings on Luella’s back.

"Tharen," Bastian snapped, "what did you do? What happened?"

Flashes of orange and red lit up the greys of the room, thick, acrid smoke choking him from the burst of heat.

"Control yourself!" Bastian yelled. "Vale! You’ll bring down the whole mountain!"

Az could only stare at Luella, at the ribbons of her flesh, stained with blood, hanging from her back where the wings had seemed to burst free from within her.

Her gown was in tatters, barely held up, revealing her entire nude back, the sides of her small breasts, and the soft line of her thighs wrapped tightly around Tharen’s hips.

Graves stood, the cowl under his chin and one hand raised, as if frozen, where he had tugged it down.

His mouth was open. Unfettered shock lined his usually stoic face.

Locked onto the unfathomable sight of her wings.

Feathers trembled at her shoulders, the beautiful white dulled by gore; even closed in protectiveness, they were unsettling against her small frame.

"Oh my gods," Graves choked out, uncaring that flames licked along the side of the stone walls, not far from where he was standing.

That seemed to snap Az out of it.

He charged forward, knocking the male out of the way of the slowly growing fire.

Lu’s sobs cut through the smoke and curses. He had a hard time tearing his gaze away. Couldn’t stop staring. It felt wrong to see something so pure and delicate drenched in bloody agony.

But Az ripped his eyes away, forcing himself to focus. So he could keep her safe.

Bastian was trying—and failing—to restrain the dragon shifter.

Smoke seeped from Vale’s nose and mouth, pupils slitted as he stared at their Vincire.

Constant hisses filled the room with the presence of his dragon. Onyx scales graced his cheekbones, his neck, the backs of his hands.

"Azgorath, a little help would be nice!" Bastian called, not looking away from the dragon shifter. "Come on, Vale. You don’t want to do this—come on. Think, you godsdamned idiot! You’ll kill her." Bastian gripped Vale’s face, but he tried to get out of his hold, tendons in his neck straining. "Look at me, Vale. I know you’re in there—I know you hear me. You don’t want her to die, do you?

That is what will happen if you don’t stop! "

Bastian’s breaths were harsh in his struggle. "You’ll burn her alive. Until there is nothing left."

He wasn’t getting through to him.

If anything, his words made Vale even angrier. Vale roared, fighting against Bastian.

"Shit!" Bastian cursed, ripping his hand away as smoke fizzled from his fingertips.

Vale’s skin was overheating; his shirt turned to ash, smoke sizzling off his flesh as it dropped to the stone floor. Small holes burned through his pants, leaving behind blackened tatters barely clinging to him.

Dull pain sliced against Az’s cheek. He touched his face with a shaking hand, fingertips coming away with blood. The ceiling shook, small hanging pieces of glass raining down from where they were suspended about the room.

He held an arm over his head, running for Vale and Bastian. Graves seemed to have the same idea—the male’s cloak fluttered behind him as he all but tackled the King, uncaring that holes were burned into his gloves as he locked his hands onto Vale’s shoulders.

Az wrangled an arm around Vale’s waist to keep him from getting to Tharen and Lu.

A thick heat radiated from the dragon as he snarled. Az hissed in pain, but didn’t let go.

"He’s never been this bad before." Bastian tried to wrap his arm around Vale’s neck, but the godsdamned dragon bit him. "Gods."

And they couldn’t hurt each other because of how they were bound to Lu.

The mountain continued to rumble and shake with tremors. Az still didn’t know if it was because of Luella or the fury etched into the sheer volume of the dragon shifter’s roars.

"Put him to sleep."

Bastian and Az both turned to Graves, whose eyes were wide, constantly drifting to Luella and the feathered wings on her back, dripping with her blood. His skin was so pale that the faded line of his scar was all but gone.

Vale bucked, and they struggled to keep hold of him.

"What?" Bastian asked.

"Put him to sleep," Graves repeated. "He’s not going to win against his dragon—not now. His mate is in harm. He wants to kill the threat."

Understanding rippled over Az. "Not a bad idea."

"Not exactly a good one, either," Bastian stressed. "We need him."

"Do you have a better one?" If anyone else had said it, Az would’ve thought they were being sarcastic, but Graves’s question was deadly serious.

Bastian’s lips curled, revealing the sharp tips of his fangs. "No," he said. And then, without ceremony, the King dropped in a heap onto the stone floor.

Asleep, like the dead.

Az hissed at the bubbling red marks on his forearms and palms. The healing process would be painful as his body sped through regenerating layers of his skin.

But he didn’t care.

With the threat of the dragon out of the way, all three males turned to Luella and Tharen.

The mountains still shook. Dust rained down on them all—that answered Az’s question of who was to blame for the tremors.

In a daze, the demon found himself standing by Lu, a hand hovering over her flayed open, bloody back. He ducked as a chunk of rubble fell from the ceiling.

"She has to stop this," said Graves, still staring at her wings.

"Prima," Az seethed, "what the fuck happened?"

The rumbling was growing dimmer. In the moments of silence between tremors, the sound of Luella’s wheezing breaths filled the room. Each one laced in pain. It lanced down their bond, ripping through him like the pain was his own.

He reached out to touch her shoulder, but Graves gripped his wrist and stopped him at the last moment. "Don’t touch her. She’s sensitive right now."

Az growled. "Do not tell me what to do with my Vincire."

Graves didn’t look at him, voice quiet as he said, "Not yours, alone. The pain in her body is unimaginable. Her nerves are hyper-aware. Even the air on her back will feel like she’s being flayed alive." He finally looked at Az. "I’m asking you"—Graves swallowed—"not to touch her."

Az’s hand fell back to his side.

Rivulets of red dripped down the stone, mingling with the white petals of the roses that had bloomed around the base—her doing, Az knew instinctively. The vines of the plants tangled up the sides, wrapping around her body and Tharen’s legs.

Bastian touched Tharen’s shoulder. The mage flinched away, head jerking up to the three of them.

"She—" Tharen shook his head. "She just…"

"What happened here?" Bastian’s voice was barely audible.

"Do not tell me you haven’t realized," Graves said gruffly. "Those are angel wings. The Queen of Luna hailed from the Above. Luella is part angel."