Page 37 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

SILENCED

LUELLA

A warm blanket wrapped around Luella’s shoulders, and she gave a soft smile in thanks, hands curling in the ends and wrapping it tighter around her.

Az held her desperately, he hadn’t let her go since they left the beach.

Her lungs still ached, and every time she breathed, her nostrils stung with the memory of saltwater.

Her skin was raw and red with the cold, lips chapped and blue, fingers and toes white.

Another violent shiver wracked her, and she found herself missing the heat that had held her captive the last few days…

The sudden cold was unexplainable, but more so was the vivid fear in the eyes of the males crowded around her.

A hot cup of tea pressed into her hands. "Drink," Tharen demanded.

She brought the cup to her lips, eyes fluttering as she sipped it delicately. The hot liquid filled her mouth and soothed down her throat, filling her whole body with a pleasant warmth, working to dispel the frost in her lungs.

She was listless, her throat ached with every swallow of the tea. It was mild but held a slightly bitter undertone—like her. Sniffing, she handed the half-empty cup to Az, who sweetly took it from her.

Swallowing, she felt a tug on her neck, her cold hand fluttering to press over the bruised, abused skin with a wince.

"Don’t touch it, Luella," Bastian said. He took her hand before she could do further harm to the dark bruising along her neck—where her attacker had nearly crushed her windpipe.

"I—" She cut off with a series of rough, hacking coughs, bending as her blanket slipped from where it was tucked around her shoulders. Hands quickly fixed it back to tuck around her slim frame. The intensity of her coughs lessened, and she straightened, hands cupped around her mouth as she met Tharen’s eyes.

In the wake of her almost death, the mage was strangely severe. She could still see the way he had run down the snow-covered beach, slipping and sliding until he fell before her, terror lining the harsh edges of his face.

Graves had taken his cloak off and given it to Vale to cover himself, and Tharen had gone to her first before even sparing her attacker a glance.

It was only when Vale had roughly ordered the Prima to tie him up that he had jolted from his care of her, conjuring a few thick vines to tie off the male’s arms and legs.

Bastian had carefully lifted her from the ground and tucked her into his body, Graves pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head before he and Tharen departed with the male.

And not for a moment had Az left her alone. The demon’s hot hands had pressed against every bit of her cold skin.

She remembered her eyes falling closed, and then nothing but hazy moments filtering in slowly before she had been deposited on a bed of soft pillows and downy, wrapped in a mountain of blankets while Vale had lit the fire with a sparking, fire-filled breath, barking out orders to Tharen—who arrived without Graves, strangely—to prepare a potion.

Which led her to now, where she was curled on the bed in her gilded cage, thankfully, instead of in the King’s room.

Bastian perched on the edge of the bed, holding her hand in his own—his skin was freezing, but she didn’t have the heart to let him go.

Az by her side, strong, thick arms wrapped around her, tucking her into his warmth; Vale, pacing along the edge of the bed as he watched Tharen pour a thin stream of swirling blue liquid into a medium-sized pot where it hung over the fire, hands held aloft as he murmured soft words over it .

Luella’s head pounded, and she gave a noise of pain, Bastian’s hands tightening on hers.

"Almost, pet," the vampire said, stroking a thumb over the back of her hand.

"The potion for the pain should kick in shortly.

" Tharen used a thin metal stick to mix the liquid, bubbles popped and fizzed over the side, and she watched, half-lidded, as he used tongs to dunk a small cup inside, lifting it with his arm held away from his body.

Light, airy steam wafted from the cup, and he tilted it over a glass.

Walking to her, Tharen stood by her side. Her head fell back against the pillows as she blinked up at him. The action bared the mottled bruising on her neck, and his eyes fell to it, the strong line of his jaw hardening, making him seem lethal.

"He’ll pay," Tharen gritted out. "With his life."

Az growled, the noise making her body vibrate. "I will end him. He shouldn’t have his hands for what he did to her, for touching her…"

The talk of violence made her head grow light.

"Enough." Bastian exhaled deeply before he said, "You’re upsetting her. This is no talk for someone so delicate."

The words were sweet, and Luella knew the vampire meant well, but the well of feelings inside her gave a low throb.

She shifted, feeling small drops of something growing, attempting to fill the space that had been vacated by whatever she had done in the water.

The feeling was neither pleasant nor unpleasant—it simply was.

But she was simply tired.

She opened her mouth to speak, but at the four stares that warned her to stay silent, she promptly snapped it shut.

I’m not delicate! she shouted in her mind, hoping Bastian was listening.

The vampire jumped slightly, red-tinted eyes falling to hers with the barest hints of shock.

"What? What is it?" Vale demanded. He stopped his pacing at the foot of her bed, a hand passing down his face with weariness.

"She just spoke to me," Bastian stated.

What?

Luella had spoken in Bastian’s mind? She was too overwhelmed, too exhausted, and shaking in the aftermath of what had happened on the beach to sift through her thoughts and feelings.

Her demon rubbed a warm palm over her arm, throwing a leg over hers where they were curled under the pile of blankets. She felt coddled. Safe and warm. Wrapped up in him, in all of them. Too drained to care what the vampire had just revealed…

"How is that possible? You have to make the link yourself," Az said as he brushed a strand of her drying hair away from her cheeks; she leaned into his touch.

His face was so soft, but as he turned his attention away from her and looked toward the others, she saw, imperceptibly, how he changed—the softness in his amber eyes growing dim, the way the candlelight made his horns cast menacing shadows over his face…

But the demon was still her sweet protector, no matter how fearsome he appeared.

Tharen rolled his eyes with a long sigh, taking one of her cold hands, pressing the cup into her palms, and wrapping her fingers around it.

"For the—" Tharen cut off as Vale gave a soft rumble, smoke wafting from his nostrils.

The mage shook his head and continued, "For the bruising on your throat. It will help soothe, but you still shouldn’t talk.

Until morning, at least, while the potion has time to take effect. "

She nodded sleepily and lifted the glass to her lips, too tired to care if he was going to drug her again or poison her. If the glint in his eye and the tension in his shoulders were anything to go by, she thought her attacker should be worried about ingesting poison before she would have to.

Honey-like liquid filled her mouth. The potion was thicker, coating the inside of her throat. As she swallowed it down, each sip went easier and easier. Her lungs no longer ached fiercely, and she didn’t feel the intense desire to cough, but she held her tongue.

Not to aid in healing, but in fear of what she might be asked if she were to speak. What she might say.

"We all know she’s not the average fae. She’s powerful, and we’re Vincire. That has to account for something." Bastian held her ankle over the blankets. "Try again," he said to her. "Send me a thought. "

She looked at him over the rim of her glass, sipping slower now that the pain had lessened.

The potion was making her loopy with sleep. Robbed of speech, she felt emboldened as she spoke only to the vampire.

Why should I do as you say? Luella held back a smile as she took another sip of tea.

Bastian huffed a laugh. Because obedience will be rewarded. And I so wish to give you a reward. Remember our kiss? How would you like to feel my mouth somewhere else?

Dazedly, she gasped around the tea, a droplet of the thick, honey-like substance dribbling from her mouth as she held the glass away from her.

Wide-eyed, she found Vale’s gaze. The King was already looking at her, of course.

She wondered if he ever took his attention away from her when they were in the same room.

"What did the fucker say to you? I know that look. Embarrassment is pretty on you, lamb, but bliss is better. I’d know," Tharen said. He sat heavily at the foot of her bed, Vale standing behind him.

He had called her… pretty.

She averted her eyes to the glass on her lap. Tharen had been the one to find her after Bastian left her bereft and wanting.

Bastian’s voice was the softest of murmurs in her head… I would know better, though .

"Leave her alone. She’s not in any state to be teased," Az warned. She tucked her face against his chest.

"One day," Tharen grumbled. "One day, you’ll come to me and ask me to show you what you’ve been missing, and I’ll revel in being the one to teach you."

"Enough!" yelled the King.

All the sound of the room was snuffed out.

"Luella," Vale said, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed as he stared at her. Strands of golden hair fell into his eyes. He looked like he had lived a thousand different lives since the night began. "The name you said, before everything went to shit… Where did you hear it?"

"She can’t speak." Az’s jaw hardened, hands tightening around her to keep her safe.

"She can use me," Bastian said. A white fang peeked out as he ran his tongue along his lower lip—could he still taste her there?

Tharen snorted, his tools faintly clattering as he packed them away. She watched the muscles in his back ripple under his shirt as he moved.

"I’m sure she will," the mage mumbled.

"Fuck you, Prima. Shut up before I take out my anger on you," Az growled.

Her head whipped as she watched them all; they were wound up, needed a release of some sort.

Bastian’s brows rose as he regarded her, listening in on her thoughts.

"There’s a perfectly good male in the dungeons to take your anger out on, don’t risk yourself by trying to fight me, beast," Tharen spat.

Worry made her bite her lower lip.

The dungeons? she hesitantly asked Bastian.

Not your concern, pet.

Vale growled, the edges of the blanket ripped under his hands.

He stared down at the torn fabric, expression unreadable as his fingers lifted away one by one before he resumed his pacing.

The firelight toyed with the sheer canopy fluttering around her bed, making him seem hazy every time he swept behind it.

"Isn’t it a coincidence that her voice stops working right when we need to speak with her the most?" Vale seethed.

With exasperation and annoyance, Luella’s mouth curled into a slight snarl.

"I don’t like what you’re insinuating"—the silence hung heavy in the air before Bastian tacked on—"my King."

Vale pinched the bridge of his nose, head hanging low in the firelight. "I’m not myself right now," he gritted out.

She stared at the King, could have sworn she saw the faintest hint of his skin rippling unnaturally.

"That’s the most apology you’ll get, lamb, better thank him with vigor," Tharen retorted.

Az tried to get up, but she tangled her hands in his shirt, keeping him by her side, safe, where he was not at risk of going back to the dungeons.

" No ," she mouthed as she looked at her demon. He nodded softly, understanding.

Bastian tapped her foot. "Use me." Adding in the privacy of her mind, I’ll make sure Az is safe while you recover.

Thank you. Truly.

She wished she could speak so she could convey the brevity of her gratitude, but for now, she would have to resign herself to words whispered by thoughts alone.