Page 56 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

Something cold and delicate touched her collarbones.

Tharen reached around her neck, calloused fingers brushing her skin as a soft chain clasped around her neck.

She reached up and touched the stone gently, feeling the smooth edges encased in a weave of what felt like delicate metal.

It was small and warm to the touch. The metal webbing around the stone reminded her of Graves’s amulet—the purple stone held in a silver cage.

Her mind was stuck on Tharen’s words. "How can this amulet help me remember my dreams?"

"The marks aid in accessing your subconscious mind and allow for memory enhancement." Tharen’s tone was filled with confidence.

"It’s warm," she whispered, fingers wrapping around the stone. "What does it look like?"

"The stone is blue, and the chain is silver." His hand took hers and forced her to trace over the metal webbing, following the chain where it rested over her chest and up to the sensitive skin of her neck.

It felt beautiful.

"Where did you get it?"

"I made it," Tharen replied simply.

"Oh," she breathed, feeling out of sorts he would craft something for her.

"Metalwork is something I enjoy. Don’t read into it," the mage snapped, pulling away from her quickly.

Graves tightened his hand on her waist.

"Ignore him," said Bastian. "He likes to pretend he does not have a heart. "

She arched a brow, toying with the delicate chain.

Pretend? She projected the thought to the vampire.

"If you all are done playing…" Vale urged. "We’ll stay here for now, under the trees. If the rain lets up, we’ll go to the lake."

At the mention of a lake, her heart stuttered. "A… lake?"

"Yes. There’s a large lake outside the treeline. This place is hidden. You do not have to worry about anyone being around," the King replied.

That only made her heart rate quicken.

The thought of a body of water nearby… She felt dizzy.

The rustle of leaves worked to calm her, and she was led by Graves a few steps forward, feeling a shift in the air and an openness in her surroundings.

"What does it look like?" She turned her head, hoping someone would hear her and answer.

Warm, rich sugar and a happy song in her soul.

"We’re in a clearing," mumbled Az as he stood by her side.

She reached out for him, fingers tangling in his cloak.

"Lots of tall, thick trees around us. The treeline is"—he gently took her cold hand and stretched it out—"right over there. That’s where the lake is. "

Now she’d know where to stay away from.

"Water droplets cling to the leaves. The treetops are thick, and the sky is covered." Graves nipped the point of her arched ear as he mumbled, "It’s quiet."

She shuddered, caught between the two of them.

"Enough!" Tharen barked. "Bring her here." He must have pointed at a spot, for Az took her wrist, Graves still behind her, as they both led her a few paces to the right.

"Let her go." She heard Vale say.

The King was close, and the air crackled with burning embers.

Graves stroked a hand over her side before leaving.

Soft lips against her misted cheek, and Az mumbled against her skin, "I’m right here, angel. I won’t let them hurt you."

"Thank you," she shakily replied.

I won’t, either, Bastian crooned.

She gasped softly, startled by the sudden presence in her mind .

"But I must do this," she said—not only to Az, but to Bastian, too.

And with those words lingering in the wet forest air, Luella took a deep breath.

"Feel your magic." Tharen’s hot palm pressed on her lower stomach. She had dropped her cloak, and his hands burned through her corset. "Ground yourself to the elements. Just because you cannot see, doesn’t mean you’re blind." The mage’s words were sharp, holding confident authority.

She felt him before her, felt his hand on her body, his breath stirring her damp hair, smelled his snow-like scent. He was all she could sense, all she could feel. She wondered what his skin would taste like, damp with the rain and salty with his sweat.

Hazily, she licked her lips.

"You’re not focusing," Tharen snapped, tugging on her arm until she fell into his chest.

He spun her, her back pressing against him. She felt small next to him, exaggerated by her lack of sight.

Her chest heaved, her arm held behind her, trapped between their two bodies, as his forearm banded over her chest—leaving her at his mercy.

The strongest of the threads rose, angry and possessive. Her soul answered without her volition, a soft plea to stay a vengeful hand. Luella knew, even without seeing, that Az was poised to break them apart if she made one little pained sound.

"Answer me. What do you hear?" Tharen’s hot breath against her face.

"I-I… You," she finally said. "I hear your breaths. I hear my heart." And she did, the organ thundered like the roar in the sky above.

Tharen sighed. "No."

From how close he was pressed against her, she felt his deep exhale.

"Beyond that. What do you hear? Stretch your ears far. Don’t be so close-minded."

She huffed, his instructions vague, but did as he said, straining to listen beyond their small shared space.

The loudest was the rain; it was hard to make out any other noise.

"Water," she murmured. "I hear water."

"What else?"

"The wind. It’s loud. I can hear it rustle through the treetops.

" And she heard much more. The faintest whisper in the brush as woodland creatures burrowed deep to keep warm and dry, the soft song of birds from high above, the groaning creak of trees as they swayed from the force of her storm. She told all of this to him.

"Now, what do you smell?"

Firstly, him. Always, him. His ice-tipped scent was like standing amid a snowstorm. But she did not share this with him. "The damp earth."

"And what do you feel?" he mumbled against her ear, words heavy with tension.

She shivered. "Not much." Besides you , she mentally added.

Tharen pulled away from her, his hands skimming down her thighs, tightly bound by fabric. He gripped her ankle. She felt his head brush her stomach. Was he… kneeling before her?

Silently, he tugged the laces of her boots free and slipped her foot out of it. He cupped her bare foot as if it were made of glass, and ran his finger over the top. She remembered him saying, once, that she was his—even down to her toes.

Her bare foot was placed on the wet ground. She grimaced, feeling mud between her toes and grass tickling her heels. He quickly removed her other boot, and she was left barefoot.

Tharen placed his hand back on her stomach. "Breathe deep. Feel the earth under your feet. That’s Terra."

She inhaled, his palm raising with the motion.

Breathing grounded her. The mud was soft and spongy under her feet. She wiggled her toes, a tiny laugh bubbling up at the feel. Freeing.

"I feel mud and grass. But it’s… nice. Soothing."

The tension between them was palpable, only growing stronger. A long roll of thunder shook the sky. Tharen pressed his lips to her temple—not a kiss, not exactly.

"Last one." His lips skimmed down the side of her face. "What did you feel ?"

Why wasn’t Az stopping this? Did the demon not see what Tharen was doing?

Did Luella even want Tharen to stop?

As Tharen’s wet tongue traced over her cheek, flirting with the edge of her blindfold, she thought, No, she didn’t want him to stop .

"I feel you," she whispered, and this time, she did not allow her senses to stretch, focusing only on him—on them.

She felt him smirk against her skin.

Tharen pulled back, and she stood alone in the middle of the forest.

"Begin," Vale called out.

She jolted at the sound of his voice. She had nearly forgotten the King was there, he had been so quiet. But she would never truly forget.

"Now it’s time for the real fun, Princess," Tharen leered.

"W-wait—" she started, fear gripping her. Her hands fumbled, searching for him, for something to ground her.

"Brace yourself," the mage commanded.

All at once, Luella was caught in a whirlwind?—

Air roared around her, whipping her hair against her face and stinging her skin. She couldn’t hear herself breathe, let alone think and focus, over the roaring gale.

The wind swallowed the sound of rain completely.

Alone. Alone . The terrifying thought spun in her mind, as dizzying as the windstorm itself.

She couldn’t even feel the threads over the pounding in her heart and roar of the wind.

She gasped, chest heaving as she spun in a circle, out of sorts as she tried to gather her bearings.

Her feet stumbled against the battering force of the wind.

A harsh gust knocked her to the side, and she couldn’t save herself from falling.

Her lungs ached, overfilled with air, each breath a painful rush.

Luella’s face slammed against the wet ground, mud on her skin. She whimpered, curling her legs up to her chest as she pressed her palms over her ears. She would do anything to make it stop.

Please.

Please, make it stop.

Bastian? she sobbed in her mind. Help me.

She didn’t know if he answered, didn’t know if he even heard her.

The wind faltered around her.

Desperate yelling pierced the air. Then, came a sharp, splintering crack, louder than the storm itself. Her soul spilled outward, and darkness rushed in.