Page 110 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

PLEASE

LUELLA

P ain—

It was all Luella knew.

As if fire had ravaged her whole being.

Her cheek was pressed against something warm and hard. She whimpered, burrowing into it deeper to seek safety.

She was dimly aware of muted voices, piercing through the inferno of agony that rippled out from her back.

"She’s awake."

"Lu, Lu, angel . Gods." A choked sound. "Can you hear me?"

She would know that voice anywhere. Az.

And the others…

"We must leave." Graves.

Wheezing breaths filled her ears, sweat slicking her back, but it was thicker and hotter. Blood. It dripped down her arms and fell from her limp fingertips, soaking her.

The air around her shook, trembling like her pain-stricken, spent body.

"Godsdammit, Lu, my angel. Please, you need to calm down. You—" A pause. "You will be okay. I swear it."

The vehemence in her demon’s tone awoke something within her, a desolate part that was succumbing to the pain.

She whimpered, feeling a soft brush of a warm hand against her shaking shoulder. She jerked away from the touch, feeling like a thousand knives were burrowing under her skin, making a home in her very bones.

"N-no," Luella moaned, barely coherent. "Please, n-no—" She hiccuped. "Hurts…"

Her fingers were curled into something soft, smelling like crisp winter. She was just aware enough to realize it was Tharen she hung onto so desperately.

Something was on her back, dragging her down. Like an anvil strapped around her spine, pulling.

"She has to stop this. The whole mountain will cave in." Bastian’s voice drifted to her, muted to her pain-tinged senses.

"I know, fuck, I know."

"Tharen, Tharen—" Something was shaking the body she was wrapped around. Or maybe that was her. Or maybe that was the very realm itself.

"Prima, snap out of it. What happened?" The demand was low and deadly. Her raven shifter.

Luella was too out of it to realize she was reaching inside herself, following the five threads in her soul, desperate for any comfort she could get.

Fear gripped her, yanking her down the five threads. Worry, fear, pain—her pain, combined with theirs. An endless loop of pain that was feeding into itself, echoing back to her, all around her and?—

Another rumble. Even half-lucid, she realized it was the mountains around them.

"She— fuck ." Tharen’s voice washed over her, soothing in its nearness. The quakes lessened. His words spilled out, shaky and mumbled as if he wasn’t aware anyone was truly listening. "I pleasured her. And she—these wings… Gods. She’s shaking. Is this my fault? Did I hurt her?"

His candor broke through the swells of pain ripping through her back.

"Tharen," she stuttered out, breathless.

A hand on her cheek forced her head from where it was tucked. She blinked blearily, seeing nothing but swaths of grey dust, caught in prismatic light. Her neck spasmed, sending ripples of agony down her spine and coursing through her limbs .

"Angel, can you hear me?" Az whispered near her, but not touching.

She nodded. Or at least, she thought she did.

Bastian spoke: "We have to go. We need to be long gone before dawn. The Temple Mothers will be arriving then to collect her."

"We can’t just leave. Vale’s unconscious. Tharen’s no help right now." Az’s warm sugary scent washed over her.

Her fingers weakly unfurled from the shirt she was gripping, reaching out blindly toward where she assumed the demon was, but fell back to her side, unable to manage more than a twitch of her digits.

"We have no choice," said Graves. "They cannot see her like this. No one can."

Tharen’s hand against her cheek tapped lightly. "Open your eyes. Don’t die." He was begging her.

Something at her back fluttered in answer to his plea, making her gasp and arch forward into him, desperate to get away from the pain lancing down her back.

"Please—help m-me," Luella sobbed, blinking away tears as she tried to focus.

The mage’s white hair came into view. The severe cut of his jaw, the unforgiving shade of his eyes.

His tanned skin. And on his cheek, a bloody handprint, small and delicate.

Her handprint. She swallowed, feeling hot liquid drip constantly from somewhere at her back.

She dipped her chin, finding her gown soaked, her pale bare thighs coated in scarlet.

His hand moved from her cheek to her shoulder, and she flinched, the action sluggish from pain.

Tharen’s fingers trailed across her shoulder blades to the base of her skull, over the knobs of her spine—and further.

Each brush of his hands was a unique sort of agony.

Something fluttered weakly at her back, pulling muscles she didn’t even know she had. It ached. Oh, it ached.

A new feeling arose—Tharen’s fingertips brushing over a part of Luella that was trembling and delicate and exposed. It felt as though her nerves were on top of her skin; every brush of his hand or whisper of air against her made her shake from electric anguish .

" Please ." She was begging—for relief from the pain. She wanted not to feel anymore.

"You..." Tharen’s voice rumbled through her from how closely she was pressed to him. "Luella, you’re an ange?—"

Hearing faded. The tremors abated until she didn’t feel them at all.

Ebbing adrenaline left her breathless and exhausted. She grew aware of the state she was in, the way her thighs were banded around his hips, the constant drip of blood, something thick and tight tangling around her calves and midsection.

Her eyelids grew heavy.

Her wheezing breaths quietened to low, short huffs.

The sound of masculine voices came in and out. She tried to focus to distract herself from the pain. But it was growing hard to do anything but give in to the overwhelming agony.

"Temple Mothers…"

"Fuck the Temple Mothers! She’s more important than anything… can’t let them…"

Awareness grew dim. She tried to speak, but it resulted in a weak cough.

"Get the horses."

"How can you expect her to ride like this? She’s unfit for the journey."

" We have no choice ."

Sounds faded.

"Wrap her in this…"

Something heavy and smelling of spiced honey and cloves wrapped around her front, brushing her chin.

"Careful. Careful , Tharen. Are you sure you can take her right now?"

"I don’t want to let her go. She’s—" The chest under her cheek rumbled with a low noise of frustration. "I have her."

"Don’t jostle her. She’s in agony right now," Graves rasped from somewhere nearby. "Every touch will hurt her. Her body is trying to acclimate to the…" His voice faded, but she felt his nearness.

How do you know what this feels like? she wanted to ask the raven shifter. But her tongue wouldn’t work .

"…asleep?"

The pain was fading. Was that a good thing? A part of her screamed that it wasn’t—that it was very, very bad.

She burrowed into the chest under her cheek. Crisp winter wrapped her up. She wanted to fall into it, let the snowstorm of Tharen’s scent numb her.

"Forgive me," she heard Az mumble.

Hands notched under her thighs, the things wrapped around her legs tugged until they gave way.

Fading pain turned to stark agony as the hands on her thighs and hips grew firmer, carefully avoiding her back as she was lifted. She choked out a whimper, not able to manage more than soft sounds of protest as she was moved.

Stop… Please.

"Angel, I’m sorry. Please forgive us… have to move you," Az soothed from somewhere at her side.

Had she spoken aloud? She inhaled a pained breath in response.

Dimly, Luella realized that the one carrying her was Tharen, his hands on her thighs, her face against his chest. Every footstep jolted her, sending sparks of hurt up her spine and through her limbs.

She couldn’t hold on any longer.

Blessed, numbing darkness took her.

Awareness came and went.

She slipped into blessed unconsciousness, only to be tugged back by the soft murmur of worried voices or the feel of hands against her skin, igniting fire that licked across her pain-ravaged body.

She whimpered and fell back into nothingness…

Only to be ripped away from the darkness of her dreams by the steady sound of hooves against stone. The lulling motion of the horse dragged her back under before she could fully blink open her weary eyes.

When Luella awoke sometime later, she realized something was different.

The pain in her body was not as utterly consuming—or perhaps she had grown used to it.

Her eyes were closed, and her fingers gave a minute twitch where they were tucked against her chest, confined by a spiced honey fabric, echoed by stronger notes of winter. Graves… Tharen.

What had happened?

Her tired mind worked to unravel the pain-tinged memories flickering in her subconscious.

The Temples of Aedis… The altar.

Her breath hitched. She had… given Tharen her pleasure.

She recalled the feel of his hand between her thighs, the way she had felt weightless, flying, as he worked her into release.

But then…

The stardust on her skin, a friend to give her strength.

Pain, she remembered; it followed her even now.

Since she was getting nowhere with memories, she focused on her surroundings.

Nestled against a hard chest, a frigid chill burned her nose with each inhale—Tharen. A thick, warm cloak wrapped around her, but there were shivers of air on her spine.

Her hips shifted with every swift beat of hooves against the uneven terrain.

The hands around her waist tightened, the only warning she received before the horse whinnied, and a strong, masculine voice called out.

She jerked, her aching back bumping against Tharen’s chest as the saddle shifted.

Her body thrummed with sharp pain. The horse’s speed picked up, jumping low as she was pressed tighter against the rider.

She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood.

Just as her lids fluttered, she saw the bleary image of a face peering down at her. Icy eyes and lips thinned with worry, parting as they formed a word she couldn’t hear over the pounding in her head.