Page 52 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

THE BARGAIN

LUELLA

" T rain me," Luella demanded, for not the first time.

Her words fell on unhearing ears as she trailed after Tharen, who led her out of the labyrinthine corners of the library. Nyx had disappeared after she found the book she was searching for, only after Luella promised to come back.

Rain fell steadily, echoed by the softest drips from the fountain. The air was cold and lonely; all she could smell was the mage before her, crisp snow that reminded her of fearful tears.

In the open space of the main portion of the library, Luella slammed the book on a wooden table, finger jabbing at the page, where it was opened to reveal the section she had desperately sought after—how the mages trained their young.

The passage before her depicted the most common method: temporarily taking the sight of the mages so they could better connect with the elements.

"Train me," she said emphatically as she beseeched the male before her.

His moods leaned toward hot-headed and spontaneous; she prayed this would work in her favor.

Icy eyes swept over her as Tharen enunciated, "I will tell you again in case your weak ears didn’t hear the first—and second—time, no ."

In a swirl of raven feathers and a peculiar flash of white, Graves stepped out from behind a thin shelf.

Luella jolted back, hand pressed over her thundering heart.

In his hands—bare, she noted, for he did not wear his gloves—he held a delicate strip of white silk, running it through his fingers like water.

Eyes like lapis lazuli met hers, and Graves arched a dark brow as he said, "For you." But he made no move to give it to her.

"What is that?" She eyed the silk in his hands.

"I stole it from your room." Graves’s hood was pushed back, revealing the solemn expression on his face, tinged with molten heat.

"Why would you do such a thing?" she asked.

Graves brought the strip of silk up to his face and breathed deeply. "Because it smells like you." He ran the pad of his thumb over the top of it. "It’s soft like your skin." He stared pointedly at Tharen. "Another reason…" The raven shifter did not extrapolate.

Tharen’s brow rose high, and he shook his head, a white braid falling over his shoulder as he cursed, "Gods damn it all."

"Carry on," said the raven shifter, still running the silk through his long, tanned fingers.

She bit her bottom lip, less sure about her plans to talk the mage into training her with Graves here.

Tharen notched his chin on a hand as he regarded her, eyes shining with mirth as if saying, Yes, carry on.

"Train me, Tharen." She inwardly cheered when she did not stumble over his name. "Train me like you do your young, take my sight, and help me connect with the elements."

"Your plan has a flaw, Princess. I only wield the four elements, not the magic of Solis and Luna."

She hadn’t thought of that. "It does not matter. I’m desperate to understand this magic inside me. I’ll take whatever I can get." Perhaps it was foolish to be so vulnerable, for males like the ones before her loved to prey upon vulnerability.

"Oh, you will?" Tharen taunted. Her words seemed to force interest into his eyes, his posture leaning forward as he questioned, "And what would you give for my help?"

"Anything," she breathed, knowing the brevity of her words even as she said them. "I don’t say that lightly." Her words were a whisper .

Tharen and Graves shared a heavy look.

"I might need some more convincing," said the mage. "So convince me."

It was Graves who spoke up and saved her. "I made her so worked up that she froze my whiskey glass. Water came to her rescue when she was held beneath the waves."

Graves’s words first brought to mind images of frigid ice melting against her collarbones, but then evoked reaching hands and silent screams; she shuddered.

He walked toward her, silk in his hands.

She tried not to shrink back. He brushed the end of the silk against her cheek—soft and cool.

He ghosted the silk over her flushing skin and pressed it over her mouth.

She peered up at him with wide eyes, breaths hot against it.

Slowly, Graves’s lips chased after it, and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against hers, the silk a thin barrier between them.

Her eyes fluttered shut, a whimper escaping her. But a harsh boom of thunder made her aware of where she was and who she was with. Her eyes popped open. She found the males staring at her with fascination.

"When she feels heightened emotions, her magic makes itself known," Graves murmured, pulling the silk away from her face.

"Maybe she just needs to be fucked," Tharen said lowly, voice gruff. "That’s how we can train her."

Her breaths were shaky. "N-no. I don’t need… that. I want you to take my sight and train me."

Graves’s head tipped back with a short laugh, a strand of black hair falling over his temple. The action was so unlike him that she paused, staring at him.

Tharen clicked his tongue. "Watch out for him, lamb. He’s no knight like his title proclaims. He’ll eat you alive if you give him the opportunity."

Luella silently pointed to the book, trying to ignore the strange awareness between her thighs and the rapid beating of her heart as she was cornered by them.

"Anything?" Tharen prodded. She nodded fervently, feeling like she was offering her soul on a silver platter.

The mage surged forward and caught her wrists, holding them as he towered over her.

Her neck ached as she stared at him, equal parts fearful and riveted.

"Have you ever felt pleasure before, by your own hand or someone else?

" He leaned down and skimmed the tip of his nose over her cheek.

She shook her head. Never. And he knew that.

Tharen pulled back slightly. "Then, I get to be the first to bring you pleasure, little lamb."

Her mouth parted, a soft sound escaping her. She rubbed her thighs together to ease the soft throb between them, and his head snapped down to watch. Her cheeks flamed.

"Why do you want that from me?" she whispered as she stared up at him.

His hand tightened around her wrist, and he breathed deeply. "Don’t ask about things you don’t want the answer to."

She swallowed.

Tharen dropped her wrists as though they burned him. "A deal in blood, lamb. I do not trust your word."

Well…

"I don’t trust yours, either," she said.

They were at a standstill.

Graves cleared his throat, his gravel-like voice soothing her as he stepped forward, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. "The choice is yours, Luella. Make the deal or don’t."

He was sin beckoning, luring her away from the truth in her heart: she knew she was about to give the vestiges of her freedom and body away.

But she had scant choices left if she wanted to understand her magic. If she wanted to make Az proud.

And if she wanted to make that tempting smirk on her captors’ faces vanish?—

With that thought in mind, she said, "I agree."

Tharen’s eyes dipped to her shaking hands. "Are you sure? Back out while you can."

She nodded, even while her words told a different tale. "No, I am not sure… but let’s get on with it."

It happened quickly then, perhaps attributed to her dazed state.

Her finger was pricked. She stuttered out the words of her vow, finger against her chest…

"I vow to give you my f-first pleasure. But only if you train me in the way of the mages by temporarily taking my sight.

" She was careful of her word choice lest he turn to trickery, but she still felt as though she missed something.

Her chest burned as she looked down, seeing a small red circle nestled next to the Binding mark. Two marks for pleasure, which would supersede the other?

The mage’s grin turned wolfish. Blood beaded at the tip of his finger as he held it against his chest. "I vow to train you like the mages by temporarily taking your sight, but if and when I deem the endeavor fruitless, my end of the bargain is fulfilled.

" He paused for effect, and she grew worried.

"In exchange, I get to be the first to bring you pleasure.

" She thought it was over, but then he crowded closer to her as he spoke again…

"And anytime you feel desire—no matter who you are with—you will appear before me. "

A red mark bloomed over his heart, and all the blood pooled to her feet as the air crackled between them. His hand dropped. Her chest fizzled.

And it was done.

She had bound her pleasure to a beast.

Graves stepped forward, the silk in his hands. She saw the white ribbon for what it was—a blindfold. He moved behind her. She shivered as his bare fingers brushed over her nape, gathering her hair in his hand as he moved it out of the way.

"How do y-you intend to take my s-sight?" Her breaths came fast, fear making her dizzy.

Oh, she had messed up. She had really, really messed up.

The cool silk of the blindfold came over her face, and Graves gently fixed it to cover her eyes completely. She saw nothing but impressions of the glow from the candlelight and shapes.

Fingers pressed against her temples, over the sides of the blindfold.

Tharen mumbled unintelligibly, warmth flowing through her from the spot where his fingers touched her. The impressions of shapes blurred, then left altogether. It was as though she were truly blind and not just wearing a covering over her eyes .

Tharen’s touch left her; she did not see it, but she felt it.

Oh, no.

No, no, no .

Her head whipped as she tried to find light. But all she could see was utter darkness.