Page 66 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

IT HURTS TO HELP

GRAVES

G raves knew nothing but fear.

In the blink of an eye, he shifted back into his human form, feeling clothes against his skin as his boots sank into the ground.

Tharen’s wolves converged behind him—the mage was not far.

A large tree had been split directly in two by the lightning. And Luella lay, motionless, by its side.

The largest of the wolves, Dyara, tipped her head back and howled, calling for her master.

Akira and Lya traipsed toward Luella. Lya peered up at Graves as she laid her head down by Luella’s inert form, giving a soft whine as Akira nudged against her palm.

Graves knelt by Luella’s side. He jerked his glove off and held his palm in the air before her nose, exhaling in relief when he felt her breath. Her skin was pale, and blood was caked on the sides of her neck where it dribbled from her ears. Fuck.

For the first time, his bare fingers brushed against her skin, and he jerked back with a shock and a low curse.

Electricity coursed through her and leaped onto his skin, jolting through him. Graves shook out his hand as he hovered over her. The bond in his chest begged him to touch her, but he could not.

Graves used his glove to gently wipe away the blood from her skin, muttering, "Luella— Luella . You’re okay, sweetheart."

Her hand twitched against the ground, and sparks shot between her fingers. She let out a pained moan as blue webs of electricity crackled under her skin, sparks popping off her arms.

"Oh gods," Graves breathed. "I’m sorry." He hung his head over her as if begging for forgiveness from her—his only savior.

Fuck the gods, he would worship only her. Kneel at the altar of her body and worship her skin, his temple.

Every day they came to this godsdamned forest, he flew in the trees, watching her, or silently trailed after her. It was easier to watch her, knowing she could not see him.

And he watched her, still, scared to touch as sparks popped and the air crackled around her.

It was not long before the others arrived.

Azgorath strained against his chains, and Vale ordered lowly, "Unbind him, Prima."

Tharen’s lip curled, but he did as his King instructed, silently waving a hand over the chains. They disintegrated into dust.

Graves warned, "Careful…" But he was not able to finish before the demon took her gently, barely a wince on his face as he held her against him.

Sparks jumped off of her skin and shocked Azgorath, his neck tensing, but he did not let her go, uncaring of the charges that flowed from her to him.

"What happened?" Azgorath looked at the wreckage, the split tree, charred and disintegrated. Ashen leaves fell atop the blackened ground, and the untouched spot where she had lain had strange white marks, like the limbs of a tree, branching out.

It was Tharen who spoke first: "Her anger grew to be too much." The mage smiled wickedly. "We’re making progress."

They spoke lowly, Bastian diplomatically arguing for her, while Vale and Tharen weighed the merits of testing her limits further.

Graves could only watch as the demon held her against him, as if she were made of something precious…

And at that moment, Graves wondered if she truly was.

They were all silent as they made their way back to their small encampment, where the horses awaited.

His heart clenched. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw nothing but her, pale and soaked through with rain as she lay amid scorch marks.

A hand clapped on his shoulder. "She will be okay after rest," Bastian said; though, his features were drawn as he watched her closely.

Graves hoped the vampire was right.

He let Azgorath take his horse on the journey back. And with a soft touch to the warm stone on his chest, Graves shifted into a raven, feeling black wings break free from his skin. But not the wings he longed for.

The heavy rain had slowed to a drizzle; she was spent. The raven had a clear line of vision below as he watched her, curled into the demon’s chest, an enticing pink flush of exertion overtaking her cheeks with every passing moment.