Page 5 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

LET IN THE TEMPEST

LUELLA

L uella’s eyelids drifted open.

The soft sound of the pitter-patter of rain melted against her senses.

Blearily, she stared out into the dimness. She was lying in her bed, the fluttering white canopy above her doing little to block out the faintest rays of light threatening to break through the thick mass of puffy white clouds that covered the early morning sky.

She felt odd.

Her head was pillowed on soft feathers wrapped in silk. Her body was wrapped in sheets of cool silk. Her gown was a weave of thin silk, tiny straps slipping off her shoulders, the neckline dipping so low her breasts were nearly exposed.

The air was nippy, yet she was burning .

Her hands curled under her chin as she faced the glass doors of the balcony. Rain fell in thin sheets, but it was slowly picking up with every moment.

A tempest—if the gusts of wind that knocked against the windows and rattled the doorknob were anything to go by.

Her tongue poked out to wet her chapped lips, and a sigh fell from them, long and weighty. She did not want to get up. Did not want to start her day.

She would be content to stay in bed forever .

If she were left alone, that was.

Luella knew her time alone was short and fleeting, so she rolled onto her back, arching with a big stretch, her toes pointed, and her neck craned back. She blew out air between her teeth, and a particularly large gust of wind made the glass doors shake fiercely.

She couldn’t rid herself of the odd feeling that something was amiss. That there was something she was supposed to be remembering. She was full of melancholy and…

Want.

As she shifted, preparing to sit up, she felt something strange between her legs. Her hand trailed down, her eyes wide as she felt herself. She nudged the thin fabric of her panties aside with her finger, dipping between her legs as she ghosted a trembling, hesitant touch over herself.

Her finger came away glistening with wetness.

Luella gasped and wiped her hand on the top of the silken bedsheets. She sat up quickly, pushing her white hair out of her face with the start of a scowl.

White hair.

She groaned.

Was it too late to go back to sleep?

"What’s wrong?" asked from somewhere in the dark corners of the room.

She yelped, jerking the sheet up to cover her chest.

She thought she would have time! Why was he here already?

"Graves," Luella managed, still holding the sheet to her chest. Her cheeks burned. Had he seen?—

With a barely grounded breath, she turned her head, finding the raven shifter reclining in an armchair pushed against the wall.

He was cast in shadows. The room had very little light, with the thick cover of clouds and no candles lit.

She would not have seen him if it were not for him announcing his presence. But she would have felt him.

That call. It tugged her in five different directions, one leading right to where he was watching from the shadows.

She wanted to go to him. The scent of spiced honey made her mouth water, and her thighs clenched. She had the sudden desire to kiss him, strange images of entwined bodies and slick skin playing in her mind.

Graves stood, the chair creaking under him. His hood was pushed back, and she did not see his cowl. A gloved hand came up to stroke over the shadow along his jaw. His eyes burned, twin pools of lapis lazuli that bore holes into her heated skin.

"Good dreams?"

She could not look him in the eyes, studying the sheets bunched in her fists.

The silk was cool in her hands, and a tiny little thread was loose at the edge; she picked at it with her fingernail, watching it unspool from her touch. A shimmering sun blotted out by the swirl of a fingertip sweeping throughout, leaving just as quickly as it had arrived.

Strange.

The floor creaked.

Gloved hands settled on the mattress, pressing down and forcing her to dip to the side slightly. A scorching touch under her chin, lifting her head. "Look at me."

She allowed him to move her. He owned her, after all. They all did.

Luella blinked up at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth as he searched her blue eyes. He reached forward, running the sleep-rumpled strands of her white hair through his fingers like water. He was kneeling by her bedside, and they were almost at eye level.

"You slept well, I take it?"

She shivered from his touch—even through the barrier of his glove, she felt him. It took everything in her not to lean toward him and seek out his warmth, seek out his scent. Follow that call and see where it might lead. Discover if his lips were as punishing and hot as she recalled.

He tugged on her hair where it was tangled in his grip—a silent demand for her to answer. He hated it when she ignored him, yet he had the terrible habit of not answering her questions, either.

"Yes," she breathed .

The scar on his face tugged as his lips twitched with the start of a smile. She could not stop staring at his mouth.

"My eyes are up here," Graves teased.

Her skin warmed even more if it was possible. She felt as though she was in a constant state of heated embarrassment around him—all of them.

He placed a palm over hers, where she was gripping the sheets to her chest.

And she could not help it, she had to ask. The question was burning her throat, bubbling up over her tongue and spilling out of her lips before she could stop herself: "H-how much did you see?"

He clicked his tongue in thought, leaving her to hang in her state of nervous humiliation for as long as he could. She wanted to punch him, reach up with her hand, and claw that satisfied smirk right off his scarred lips.

Goodness, where had that come from? she thought.

Luella shook the violent image away, her eyes fluttering closed as she took a deep breath. She was fine, it was fine.

Graves huffed a laugh, his breath puffing out and hitting her cheeks, fluttering the tendrils of her hair. "Curious thing."

He paused, giving another little tug on her hair; her head bent to the side, further toward him, and she had to notch a hand on the mattress to stop herself from falling into him.

The sheet fluttered to her lap without her holding it up, baring her silk-clad chest. The thin wisp of white fabric barely covered her, leaving nothing to the imagination—she resisted the urge to wrap an arm around her middle and cower, but stopped herself at the last moment.

He had come to her room without an invitation. She was doing nothing wrong.

The neckline of her nightgown dipped low, stretched from her fitful night of sleep. A thin strap fell off her shoulder, and goosebumps erupted on her skin from the nip of the early morning air. And from his attention.

She could hear her heart pounding. She wondered if he could see it batter against her chest.

Graves’s eyes dipped as he took her in. The leather of his gloves groaned as his hand gripped the sheets .

His head bowed, a strand of short black hair falling over his temple. She was suddenly reminded of another time, another place. But she blinked, and it was gone.

Luella studied his profile, taking in the strong line of his shoulders wrapped in the dark fabric of his cloak.

The amulet on his chest gleamed, the purple stone holding white swirls as it rested against his chest, the silver around it kept it encased in a delicate cage—she was utterly ensnared by the sight of it, had a strong desire to reach out and touch.

Graves did not move for a few short moments.

The air between them was a crackling charge, and the rain continued its steady fall outside, only growing heavier with every passing breath.

What had been a faint and continuous drizzle when she first awoke was now well on its way to a deluge.

The very walls seemed to shake with the force of the rain.

The raven shifter’s shoulders rose as he sucked in a sharp breath. He raised his head, hands snapping up to grip the sides of her face. Her cheeks puffed out from his forcible grip.

"I saw everything," he whispered, bringing her face close to his.

The tips of their noses brushed, and her hands fisted the silk sheets where they were bunched around her waist. Luella wanted.

She burned. "I saw your breaths as you slept.

The way they grew more and more erratic.

I kept wondering what it could possibly be that you saw behind your lids as you slept that was so captivating.

And then you woke up." He pressed the flat of his hand against her sternum, a thrumming weight that forced her to topple back onto the mound of pillows decorating her bed.

An indignant huff escaped from her parted lips.

She stared up at him, and he stared down at her.

They were both good at that—the staring.

It was their thing . She hated that they were so familiar that they had a thing, but at least their thing was heavy silence and not torturing her enemies for pleasure like Tharen and the King— Vale , she reminded herself—seemed to enjoy so much.

His hands left her, and he reached for the silken bedsheets, gathering them up as his head lowered. And Luella suddenly knew what he was going to do.

"Wait!" A whispered shout that pierced the space between them. "Please don’t. "

His head continued to lower as he looked up at her. The sight of him kneeling on the ground by her side, his head lowered as he stared up at her with those jewel-toned eyes—she was suddenly glad she was reclining, or else she would have swooned.

Graves pressed his face to the sheets, burying his nose into them as he breathed deeply. His voice was muffled by the fabric as he said, "I saw your hand as you touched between your thighs…" He did not elaborate.

Luella was grateful. She did not think she could bear to hear him utter what she had done after that. But seeing his face, buried in the silken sheets. He was smelling… her.