Page 39 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

PRETTY LIAR

BASTIAN

B astian let his magic trickle softly into Luella’s mind—gentle and unnoticed.

Flashes of images greeted him.

Strange scenes of a cottage nestled in the woods. The more he tried to bring it into focus, the more the image shimmered. He chased after the thoughts, but they ducked behind clouds of nothingness or insipid feelings, dodging with expertise—almost playfully.

You’re keeping something from me, Bastian whispered into her mind, aware of the eyes on them as he traced over the shell of her ear.

Blue eyes stared at the dips of his collarbones.

No, she said softly.

Even in her mind, she sounded hesitant.

Bastian nosed along her hairline, breathing in the intoxicating scent of cream-topped berries. She shivered under him. Liar, but I cannot fault you when you’re so pretty when you lie.

Vale’s green eyes burned with vexation; he was not used to being ignored. "You said you believe you used your magic?" he prodded.

Tendrils of her white hair wisped around her pale, soft cheeks as she turned her head from the King to Bastian.

Tell him I don’t think I used my magic—I know I did. He’s too prideful to admit that I’m right.

"She says she’s certain she used her magic," Bastian relayed, leaving out her final words .

Luella huffed, crossing her arms.

"I doubt that’s all she said," Tharen said.

Vale ignored the mage. "And… How do you know that?"

I just do… Her words were soft. She brushed a pale hand over the bruising on her neck and added plaintively, Just as I know the sky is blue and water is wet, and I am not whom I thought, I know that my magic was here tonight. I feel it still.

"She simply… does," said Bastian. At the King’s droll look, he amended, "It makes sense that a harrowing situation would make her magic rise to the surface."

"She was almost drowned," Azgorath muttered.

Luella fiddled with the demon’s hand on her lap. I felt the water dancing around me, helping me save myself. I did it all alone , she tacked on as if she was only just now realizing she had saved herself—without their help.

Tharen blew out a breath. "Mages train their young in many ways, but one of the most common methods is to steal the most powerful of the senses away and put the younglings in harm’s way.

Throwing them off cliffs, trapping them in a burning building…

Drowning is common, too, for mages with Aqua magic.

" He stared at her with a strange desperation, as though he was still at the beach, seeing her shivering amid the snow.

Her lips parted—color had returned slightly, leaving them a pretty but pale pink.

"What can we do to make it happen again?" Vale demanded.

"You mean to replicate a display of magic that you didn’t even see—that could be a last-ditch effort to make us let our guards down so she can try and escape again?

Yeah, you need to only try and kill her again to make that happen.

" Tharen harshly set a small glass down on a tray, muscles in his neck quivering as he held himself back.

Bastian let his Mind magic sneak into the Prima’s head.

It was an effort to keep his face straight.

I won’t let Vale try to kill her just to make her power manifest. He’ll have to fucking kill me, first. The mage’s innermost thoughts were shocking to Bastian—he cared for their Vincire?

"No. I will not let her be hurt," growled Azgorath.

"Relax, beast," Tharen scoffed. "No one is going to try and kill your precious lover." His features were unforgiving, but Bastian knew of the turmoil brewing behind those icy eyes.

Ever the diplomat, Bastian stepped in before the situation could escalate further.

"We’re in no state to hold such important conversations.

" Especially not with her attacker waiting, he whispered into their minds—save Luella.

"She needs to rest, let the potion take effect. We’ll address her powers later. "

Vale held Bastian’s gaze for so long that he worried the dragon shifter would break and let his beast free. "Very well," the King finally proclaimed. "Later, we’ll discuss her magic. And the other thing."

What he didn’t say—Caliban. The name was a curse that invoked memories better left buried.

Without another word, Vale swept from the room. Tharen followed after with a strange, charged look thrown Azgorath’s way. Subtly nodding, the demon grew tense. Luella seemed to sense it, for she reached up and placed a searching hand on his cheek.

She was so small next to him. It made Bastian wonder how she’d appear underneath one of them, her nude, small frame shadowed by their large, powerful bodies. He didn’t grow envious at the thought but hot with sensuous curiosity.

"Don’t speak, Lu. I’ll be fine when you’re healed and safe," the demon said.

Her brow furrowed as she watched him.

If Bastian did not know any better, he’d assume the two were speaking in their minds like Bastian and she had—but no, they were just that close. The vampire felt like he would have to work for decades to earn her forgiveness and be on the receiving end of such free, wholesome adoration.

"There’s no risk of me angering the King," Azgorath assured. "I wouldn’t do anything to keep me away from you."

Satisfied, she sat back against the mounds of pillows, shimmying down until she rested on her side. Azgorath tucked the blankets around her shoulders and passed a hand over her forehead, soothing her. "Sleep, angel. I’ll take care of everything else."

He pressed a kiss to her brow and extracted himself from her. She stared after him as he made for the door, hurt lingering at the edges of her mind as the demon left .

Alone with his Vincire, Bastian sat on the bed, stretching out his limbs and getting comfortable. His side pressed against hers, and without the demon there, she hesitantly nestled into Bastian’s side.

You’re cold, she complained sweetly, yet that didn’t stop her from tangling her fingers with the hem of his shirt and rubbing her cheek over the cool silk.

Her bare toes skimmed over his calf, and he gripped her thigh, hooking it over his leg.

And you are, too. If Vale got his head out of his ass, he would have stayed and helped warm you up. Bastian soothed over her hip, ensuring she was entirely cocooned in her piles of blankets.

Even with how cold she was, he still saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

Time slowed between them both, her breaths evening out as the elixir worked to heal her nearly crushed windpipe—a tidbit they decided not to share with her lest her panic spiral out of control. For all she knew, she merely had severe bruising and a sore throat.

Bastian? she questioned, thoughts tinged with sleep.

He brushed a hand over her head. Yes?

What’s happening to me?

He knew she was referring to her dreams, the strange scenes that haunted her days and filled her nights. The name that had spilled from her lips, an uninvited entity finding a way to terrorize them from kingdoms away.

I don’t know, pet. But we will find out, he said.

She nuzzled against him, cheek rubbing over his thigh.

Though she was cold, her breaths were dangerously hot, and they ghosted over his thighs and far too close to his cock for him to feel at ease.

She must be feeling dazed to be so tactile.

He wouldn’t complain—anything to make the damned call in his chest ease.

He regarded her closed lids, lashes fanning out against her cheeks, her translucent skin; hair frizzy and slightly matted to her face from how it had dried naturally, soaked with ocean water.

At that moment, Bastian thought he might have done anything to keep her safe and protected like she was now.

But threats of darkness loomed. The Tenebrae would never stop. Not until he had what he wanted—her .

You know the King will not rest until he finds out how you dreamed of Caliban…

I know, she answered, eyes still closed. If anyone else walked in, they would think she was asleep.

What do you intend to do?

Try and figure it out. All Vale will have to do is ask, and the Binding mark will force me to tell him. In the meantime, I must evade him—at least until I know more about these strange dreams.

Bastian didn’t respond, merely rubbed a thumb over her cheek as he thought. Odd, that she would be so intent on evading Vale when she didn’t even know why she was having these dreams. Or so she said.

What if…

Was there something else she was hiding?

Hm. That would not suffice. Bastian would have to speak to Graves; with all his stalking, the male knew more of her than any of them combined.

Very well, he replied.

Will you...

He felt her fingers dig into his shirt; her skin was unnaturally cold, tempting with icy fingers promising innocent pleasures. Bastian had never been with an innocent before, but he found himself curious of how it would go between them.

Would she be nervous? Would she cry?

It had been too long since he had sunk into the tight heat of a welcoming body. He needed to fuck almost as much as he needed her forgiveness—synonymous desires he thirsted for more than what he needed most: blood.

Teary-eyed as she told him she forgave him, all while he moved over her amid black silken sheets.

Her soft voice broke him out of his lustful stupor… Will you help me, Bastian?

Shoving down images of fucking her senseless until she had no choice but to grant him her forgiveness, he murmured, Of course, pet.