Page 77 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

Four scents wrapped around her as if to welcome her with open arms—she would not be so easily fooled. They did not want her. She was an inconvenience, only here to help the King defeat his half-brother and have his rule unhindered.

But a small part of her issued a rebuttal… thinking of Bastian’s lips on her chest; Graves’s deft, gloved fingers under her chin as he tasted her mouth.

Maybe some of them wanted her.

"Did I interrupt?" she inquired softly. She was breathless, knew she looked a sight with her slick, swollen lips.

Tharen yanked her further into him with his hands on her waist. "Having fun without me, little lamb? I thought you would have learned by now."

"I learned. B-but I also learned how pleasing it can be to just… show up?—"

The soft taunt was cut off by Tharen’s barking laugh, vibrating through her from how close they were.

Bastian’s voice pierced the laughter. "I think she has you figured out."

The strongest thread inside her grew shorter—Az was coming. It filled her with relief to know her protector was on his way.

Her mind snagged on the words she had heard when she popped into the room. "The Prima? What do you mean, find the Prima ?"

Taunting joviality was snuffed out like a flame .

Footsteps thumped against the floors. The doors banged open. A cool rush of air from the drafty halls let in hints of burning sugar, the bitter edges growing stronger by the moment.

"Again with the demon? If you have a thing for large brutes, you should try Tharen instead." Bastian’s tone was filled with teasing sensuality.

"She will be trying no one," said Vale. "It’s good you’re both here; though, the circumstances leave something to be desired."

Tharen snorted. She resisted the urge to ram her elbow into him, knowing it would do far more harm than good.

She felt Graves in the room, but as usual, he was quiet, content to watch. His eyes seared her skin. The sudden memory of his lips on hers made her flush.

As if called forth by her thoughts, the raven shifter spoke, his low and rough voice making her shiver:

"The Prima and I must leave Serpentis. Immediately."

"Oh," she breathed.

Was she supposed to care?

You care, a small part of her whispered, rebelling at the thought of them leaving.

Growing awareness, the tug of the thread inside her, and Az came to her side. His scent washed over her. But in the arms of Tharen, the pounding in her head was a mere memory.

Tharen drummed his fingers over her waist impatiently. "What the Knight is getting at is that you, little lamb," he crooned the demeaning name, "need to be extra careful not to find yourself wound up while we’re away."

Az’s growl filled the room. "Maybe if you hadn’t tricked her, we wouldn’t be in this mess."

"Tricked her?" said the mage. "I don’t think it was a trick when she was begging for it. Right, Graves?"

The raven shifter had been the only other one there when they had made their deal, the only one to bear witness to her utter idiocy.

Graves hummed, noncommittal.

"We’ve already gone over this," Vale hissed. His scent grew closer, and there was a shuffling noise. Then, the King swept her hair back from where a few pieces had fallen over her forehead. His palm pressed to her temple, and he held it there for a moment. "How do you feel, Luella?"

She breathed deeply, inhaling him. His touch made something snap back into place. "I… Better," she finally settled on.

For a moment, Vale’s hand lingered, as if he could not bear to part from her. But no, that was all in her head. She was most likely the only one feeling such a pull; his control was infinite.

Vale’s touch left her, and she sagged back, resisting the urge to follow after him.

"We were discussing something regarding you," Vale started. "Graves and Tharen will be away. They’ll return before the mourning period is over."

Two days without them.

"If it is about me, do I not… have the r-right to know?" Luella asked.

Vale didn’t answer for a moment, and she wondered if he never would, but then he said, "We own your rights."

If she were a dragon, angry smoke would be wafting from her mouth and nose. She settled on an indignant huff. "You have stolen my rights."

Tharen tightened his hands on her waist, and she winced, shifting at the sharp bite of pain.

You love it, though. Don’t you? Bastian’s sensual words filled her mind. She could taste spiced bergamot with every breath. To give in?

She tensed against Tharen.

"Don’t speak in her mind, Advisor. Her will is too weak to withstand you," Tharen teased.

"S-stop distracting me. I want to know. Why are you leaving?" she asked the room.

"For now, you will not be permitted to know." Vale cleared his throat. "You must not feel desire while they are gone. Where they go, you cannot follow."

Luella’s cheeks heated. They spoke of that so openly.

But how could she stop herself from feeling?

As innocent and inexperienced as she was, she wasn’t sure she could stop it even if she tried.

Even now, her thighs quivered at the memory of Az’s heavy, comforting warmth settled over her as she lay nestled upon mounds of blankets and soft silks.

The threads uncoiled within her, needily reaching out.

Tharen’s body was hard behind her, fingers tightening one by one, leaving indents in her skin.

"If you show up, it will distract us and put you in danger," Graves mumbled.

What if she wanted to be in danger? If it meant escape, she could do it.

She could trick Bastian into a kiss, let herself be stolen away wherever Tharen was.

Truly escape. Just as the thought formed, she quickly dashed it away.

Not without Az. And even if she were to escape, she could not run from destiny.

"Where will you go?" She leaned forward, bracing herself with a palm against the tabletop before her. The position forced her backside to push into Tharen’s lap, and he groaned low.

Oh.

Luella promptly straightened, feeling sparks course throughout her. Tharen’s breathing was steady, but hers wasn’t.

"Medius," Vale proclaimed, breaking her out of her stupor. Before she could prod with more questions, he cut her off with a sharp, "And that is all you are allowed to know."

The Binding mark pulsed, and her mouth snapped shut.

Every word that followed from the King’s lips made the mark throb in time with the intense feelings inside her:

"Furthermore, you will not be allowed to feel desire while they are gone."

Her hand shot up to touch her chest, feeling a warmth emanate from the tattoo.

"You do not trust me?" she whispered, cradling her chest.

"No, I don’t trust them ," Vale enunciated.

Bastian’s low chuckle filled the room. "As you should."

Az’s indignant growl echoed the vampire’s words.

"If she is touched, she will feel pain as her Binding mark forces her to fight against desire. The demon does not want her to be in pain, and even you, Bastian, wouldn’t force her into a situation that hurts her," Vale said.

"But—" she started, feeling five sets of eyes burn against her. "But if you can order me to not f-feel that way… can you not order me to ignore the bargain I made with Tharen?"

The mage’s hands tightened even harder on her waist. He clicked his tongue. "Doesn’t work that way, lamb. No one can stop a blood vow. A little loophole, sure. But not forever."

Luella swallowed. Suddenly, he was stifling against her. Her future loomed over her like the point of a dagger.

Graves spoke low. "Before the mourning period is over, we will return."

"Don’t miss me too much," Tharen taunted in her ear.

"We will take good care of her," said Bastian.

Vale’s voice broke through the sensual tension. "That’s what I’m worried about."

Evening was fast approaching, and Luella worried her bottom lip.

The rustle of pages made her shiver, and her hands brushed along rows of shelves, feeling dust tickle against her fingertips as she felt her way further into the library.

"Need help, pet?" Bastian said from behind her.

Jolting, she turned her head, searching for him. "N-no. I can manage."

I don’t think so, he whispered.

She shivered anew from the feel of him inside her head, wrapping her borrowed cloak tighter around her—not borrowed, but forced upon her.

Before Graves and Tharen had left, the raven shifter had wrapped his thick cloak around her, concealing her thin gown.

His scent enveloped her; even now, she resisted the urge to bury her face in the folds of the fabric to inhale whiffs of honeyed cloves.

Tharen had imparted no tangible gifts upon her before his leave, merely a sharply ordered demand— behave .

Her temples pounded, low and persistent. She hated how dependent her body had become on her captors. Only two days. She could get through this.

And tonight… she would be forced to share her bed again. Anxious excitement unfurled in her gut. She had been too loopy to re lish in the feel of Az wrapped around her last night; she wanted to be present the second time.

For now, she refocused on the self-imposed task before her: finding a history of all Prima mages.

She recounted the words from her dream, Enora’s pleas to find a female Prima. Then, what she heard in the advisory room— find the prior Prima.

It was a fool’s errand, but something urged her to follow.

From a few paces to her side, Az called out, "I found an account of the fae kingdoms’ monarchies."

Luella shook her head. "But we’re getting closer. It has to be here somewhere." Her voice was soft and hesitant, scared that Bastian would stop this venture before she could chase after her persistent suspicions.

He knew, though. Of course, he did.

She wondered if there was anything the vampire didn’t know, for all his mind thievery.

I know all. Bastian skimmed a cold finger along her nape. I’m good at keeping secrets, pet.

All? she questioned.

"All," the vampire said aloud.

"Why aren’t you stopping me?" Her fingers paused on a spine, tracing over letters etched into the leather.

"What harm could a sightless heirus do?" Bastian said cheekily.

She blew out a sharp breath, feeling her hair rustle.

Az’s hand fell upon her shoulder. "This search will be endless."

She nodded, crestfallen.

"For you, I will search always, Lu."

She took Az’s hand and held it. "Thank you, Az. But you’re right… This isn’t the time." She gestured to her blindfold. "I can be of no help right now."

She missed reading. She had been so caught up with training and sickness and prophecies that she had not had time for books. But now, surrounded by the scent of ink and paper, all she wanted was to grab a novel, curl up by a fire, and lose herself in another place. Though, she could not .

Luella turned to Bastian, searching for him in the darkness. "I do not suppose you’ll help, will you?"

"No, but I will not stop you," he replied.

He had been granting her gifts to earn her forgiveness—would he not grant this, too?

"We will resume the search another time. When I can contribute," she said begrudgingly.

"Of course, Lu," said Az.

She tugged Graves’s cloak tighter around her, breathing in his scent coating it. The pounding in her head only worsened with every passing moment.

"I think you’re due a respite. Come, pet." Bastian took her hand and steered her away from the depths of the shelves.

The air grew less musty as thick collections of shelves gave way to the open portion of the library. The soft trickling from the pools and the steady fall of rain as it beat upon the skylight made her weary bones ache in yearning.

The threads between them were stretched thin. Did Graves and Tharen feel her absence, too?

Bastian’s hands gently forced her down onto a cozy, plush cushion.

The cushion dipped as he sat by her side. Something fuzzy was draped over her lap—a blanket. Her fingers curled in the soft threads, thumbs smoothing over the fabric with melancholy etched into the curve of her mouth.

"What are you thinking of?" Bastian murmured.

What a strange thing to inquire. A vampire with Mind magic, asking of her thoughts?

It feels better to know they are given freely, he purred in her mind.

Luella bit her lip, tugging the blanket a bit higher on her lap.

Warm, sugary chocolate melted against her senses. Oh, how she had missed feeling so secure in the arms of her demon.

Az sat at her other side. She dipped toward him as he settled, bracing a hand on his thigh to stop herself from falling face-first into his lap. His low grumbles radiated through her pleasantly.

"I’m thinking of how everything has changed," she uttered. " How I once sat curled under a blanket in Solis while my nose was buried in some fantasy story."

A familiar burn stretched her digits as Az’s large fingers laced with hers. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once the words started, she found she had a hard time stopping.

"I used to dream of being brave and strong. To be like the heroines in my books. But now that I have power, I wish that I didn’t… Does that make me bad?"

"It makes you normal, Lu," said Az. "Just don’t spend your life wishing it away."

He was right. She had learned about wishes, anyway. They were futile.

"The Fates knew what they were doing. You were not a mistake. I have faith you will save us all and defeat the Tenebrae, Luella." Bastian’s usually sensual tone was solemn.

"Then why do you sound so anguished, Bastian?" she whispered, darkness making her bold.

"Because I fear what will be left of you when it is all over. How many pieces will be taken and broken?"

At that, she could say nothing—do nothing.

She feared the same.

And he knew that she did.

The air grew peaceful, and their scents melted into her skin like butter on fresh-baked bread.

With the soft trickle of water into the pools and the echoing roar of rain as it beat down overhead, she struggled to keep her eyes open, wishing nothing more than to crack open a story and fall into pages.

A soft puff of air, tingling against the shell of her ear, and Bastian said, "If that is what you wish."

She didn’t have time to pay attention to his words before Az wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Graves’s cloak, the warm blanket, and their large bodies soothed her in a way she did not think was possible.

Az pressed the back of his hand to her cheek, then her forehead. "You still have a fever."

With a soft rustle of pages, Bastian’s voice filled the room, making her arms pebble with every perfectly enunciated word. The timbre was a low croon, washing over her like ocean waves.

He read her a tale woven by a masterful mind—a fictitious story of a tavern wench who was suddenly transported to another realm and found herself bound to an evil sorcerer.

Luella was transfixed by the heroine’s story, finding her head lolling against Az’s chest as his large hands carded through her hair.

Sleepily, she leaned against him, her thighs pressing against Bastian.

Maybe wishes weren’t futile.