Page 32 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

Shame on me, whispered into her mind.

She shuddered from the soft feel of him in her head. She barely felt it this time, which made her wonder…

"I cannot get out of this?" she asked.

"Not this time."

It was so quiet that she could hear the falling snow outside the walls of the castle.

Bastian gently took her wrist—he enveloped her hand entirely—and pulled her to the cushions nestled against the wall. He sat, tugging her down by his side.

Her thigh pressed against his, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, turning her to face him.

It was happening, then. Truly.

Luella could not trick her way out of this.

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and his thumb stroked over the back of her hand.

"You do not need to be afraid," he said. "When have I ever lied to you?"

Anger welled like a tempest inside her. "When have you not?

When you failed to tell me we are V-Vincire," she stumbled around the word, not used to it on her lips.

Even now, the notion of Vincire was foreign, shrouded in secrecy.

She only knew the scant amount of information they deigned to reveal upon her awakening: they were bonded .

Luella could not venture deep into the library for fear of seeing Nyx, and she could not muster up the courage to ask her captors the questions teeming inside her—so she was left in the dark .

"It was for your own good. And I would do it again and again if it meant I could protect you.

I am not like the King, Luella. From the start, he wanted to use you to defeat the Tenebrae, but I wanted you because the Fates wove our souls together.

The Vincire will be bound, and the Queen will be crowned .

" Bastian stroked a finger over the soft curve of her cheek, moving his palm to cup her soft skin. "We were promised. You were made for me. I’ve been waiting for you since I was young, and I will wait, still, if that’s what it takes to earn your forgiveness. "

His words were awash with gilded niceties, perfectly said to trick a naive heirus such as herself.

Luella thought of everything— anything —to stop herself from remembering what she had seen when she had fallen into her sleep after being pricked by the Tenebrae’s poison.

The vision, the memory, of the five of her Vincire.

The stardust that had led her to the past, the little cottage nestled in the dark woods of the Silva Noctis, and everything she had seen there.

Young Bastian, not at all like the put-together male before her, with a wrinkled shirt and a snarl etched into his sensual lips.

The way the five of them had seemed like brothers, almost. Instead of the strained, begrudging acquaintances they appeared as now.

She thought of everything and nothing; anything to stop herself from sending her thoughts to him. It was her secret. And she could be afforded those after all the lies they had told her…

Bastian’s lips parted with a question, but she spoke before he could ask whatever it was that made such melancholia rise to the surface of his reddened gaze.

"You’re forgetting the rest of the prophecy.

To expel the dark, the shadow’s spark, and defeat the stolen, she must bond with the chosen .

" She leaned her head into his palm on her cheek; all the while, her mouth spoke words of anger.

"That is what I am needed for. A tool and nothing else.

Flattery gets you nothing. Especially not the forgiveness you desire. "

She was proud of herself for not faltering, but it was a short-lived victory.

"I do not need to prove that my feelings are honest, pet. You will come to realize that I have always fought for you, even when they have not." Something flickered over the elegant lines of his face, his jaw hardening. "I believe you owe me a kiss."

Bastian’s fingers tightened on her cheek, and he pulled her face close to his. The tip of his nose brushed against hers, and he murmured, deceptively sweet, "Close your eyes."

Her eyes drifted closed before she could stop herself.

Without sight, her other senses were reaching out to feel and smell. Sense .

Through her gown, the cushion underneath her warmed her thighs. He smelled of spiced bergamot, rich and succulent. His palm was cool against her skin.

The most pressing of all these things was the tug of the invisible thread wrapped around her soul.

Soft and hushed was the falling snow against the ground, yet loud to her searching ears.

Warm lips pressed against hers.

And Luella forgot about everything except Bastian.

A soft fizzling sensation against the skin of her chest, but she barely paid it mind.

This, her second kiss. Another thing not freely given but taken.

She honed in on the feel of his lips against hers, close-mouthed but incessant. Searching.

Her hand fluttered up to grip his shirt, and her fingertips brushed against his bare chest from the way the laces were undone. Cold. A soft, pleased noise escaped from her mouth, and he suffocated it with his lips. Warm.

The combination of his cool skin and warm breath made her head light. Or maybe that was the lack of air.

Straining for a breath, she hit against his shoulder, and he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

"See?" He sounded out of breath. "We were made for each other. You cannot resist, even if you tried."

She did not even have the opportunity to take a full breath before he was upon her again.

Bastian’s lips pressed against hers. This time, his kiss was demanding; though, it still retained an air of languid sensuality. As though he had all the time in the world to explore her. But urgency warred with curiosity, and her mouth was the spoil of this war.

He forced her to open up to him by using his lips. Teeth nipped at her bottom lip, and she jolted from the tiniest prick of his fangs against her delicate flesh. Tangy iron filled her mouth, and he let out a groan, devouring her with a vengeance.

The vampire licked and sucked at her mouth like he was dying of hunger, and she was all the sustenance he could ever wish for—perhaps this was the truth, for she felt his tongue lap against the broken skin of her bottom lip, and he sucked it between his teeth, more careful this time, as he tasted her blood.

A soft, feminine moan was torn from deep within her chest, and his answering groan drowned it out.

Her fingers gripped weakly at his shirt, and she pressed her hand fully to the skin of his bare chest, fingers spanning out and feeling his lithe muscles.

He angled her face to his liking, tipping her head back to make it easier for him to kiss her more deeply.

Sharp fangs teased against her lips, but he did not break skin again.

Luella grew flushed and uncomfortably hot.

Her breaths were quick, her chest pressing against his with every little pant she took.

The call between them was joyous, yet that sick and twisted feeling that had corroded its edges crept upon them both, turning what should have been a search for beautiful pleasure between Vincire into a battle against their very natures.

Something swelled inside her; another moan left her. This one was not pleased. But overwhelmed by the nebulous presence.

His answering sound was low and throaty. She swallowed it, her tongue coming out to hesitantly lick against his bottom lip. The hands against her cheeks tightened as if to urge her on.

Tiny licks, begging him to let her crawl inside his body, she searched his mouth with her tongue.

Urgency gripped her, making her motions fumbling and awkward, not just the usual lack of skill from a kiss by an innocent, but she could not get enough of him, his scent and his lips and his body and his feel. Him.

The thing inside her grew larger.

And the passion between them grew out of their control .

When Bastian’s fangs flirted with her lips once more, this time he allowed the tip to press upon her plump flesh. Blood filled her mouth. More than a mere prick.

His hands were firm, beyond the point of a gentle, comforting hold.

She whined against him, and it was that pleading sound that made him tear himself away from her.

"Fuck," Bastian groaned. His lips were swollen and slick, the edges red with… her blood. He licked his lips and kept his head turned away from her like he was ashamed. Or afraid to give in. "Stay away from me." His voice was strangled.

Her hands fell from his chest as he stood. The silk of his blouse was wrinkled from her grip. She was splayed upon the cushions indecently, staring up at him.

"I don’t know what to do…" Luella’s own voice was breathless. A pulse swept through her, and she held her midsection, a soft noise escaping her bitten, swollen lips.

Strands of silky black hair fell over his forehead, obscuring his eyes—but not before she saw a strong flash of red.

A gasp left her. "B-Bastian."

He finally met her gaze, pained and stricken with unadulterated want.

Somewhere beyond the curtain that kept them tucked in privacy, the revelers cheered and gasped, and outside the stone walls of the castle, sleet fell hard and fast.

Her breaths were shaky, and sweat dotted her brow. She was so hot.

Luella could only stare up at the vampire, and he stared down at her with equal parts fear and fascination.

"I cannot do this. Fuck!" Bastian swore. Casting one last glance at her, he pointed at the cushion she was curled upon. "Stay there. I’ll send one of the others. I cannot be around you right now." The ends of his words grew garbled, and she saw his fangs dig into his bottom lip.

The tiniest bead of red blood dripped onto his chin, and he left it there to mar his pale skin as he parted the curtains. Icy light filtered in, blinding her momentarily, and Bastian left, the curtains falling back to keep her in the shadowed dark.