Page 89 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

THE GODS WAIT FOR NO ONE

BASTIAN

T he delicate chiming of the bells made Bastian’s hair stand on end.

It was time.

Through the haze of blue shimmers and icy decor, he watched as Vale led Luella before the throne. She stood with barely a tremor as she faced the crowd of revelers. He was proud of her.

At least this night, she knew what was in store for her.

A hush befell the throne room.

That was his cue.

Bastian walked forward with grace, every step making the delicate silver rings adorning his ears tinkle like the fading chimes of the bell.

This was the second—and last—night of her pleasure lessons. At dawn, they would journey to the Temples of Aedis. Another trial. Another thing she would be forced to endure for tradition, to appease the masses… and to keep her safe, most importantly.

They never knew who was watching, who would see them treat her differently and deduce what she meant.

They had more enemies than just the Tenebrae.

Even if Caliban was killed and his ashes scattered across the kingdoms, Luella would still be in danger constantly—they would always have to look over their shoulder and go to great lengths to ensure her safety.

This was for her .

That was what Bastian told himself when it grew to be too much—when he felt vile for forcing her, for making her think she would be forced to give her body to another.

Bastian’s eyes dipped as he traced the curves of her frame, swathed in flowing, white silk; tiny jewels encrusted the bodice that glistened and caught the blue flicker of candlelight from the grand chandelier above.

Her lips were soft and pink today, eyes lined with dark kohl that made the blue in her irises pop, glistening like the universe was contained in her eyes.

Proud and unmoved, Vale met his eyes.

Bastian let his thoughts drift to the dragon shifter. Meet me in the hallway.

So slowly that anyone who didn’t know the King well would miss it, he gave an infinitesimal dip of his chin in acknowledgment.

Time to play his part.

Bastian held out his hand, head tipped in deference as his eyes trained on the small golden clasp that kept Vale’s cloak secured. "King Vale."

"For this night, you are his," proclaimed the King.

Bastian only looked up when he felt Luella’s fingertips graze his palm. He clasped her hand, finding her eyes already trained on his .

His fangs pulsed. He had sated his bloodlust before he came, knowing that no amount of blood could slake his hunger enough to resist her.

He no longer found joy in drinking straight from the source, but instead drank from pitchers and goblets, pretending the cold lip of a glass was her warm skin, giving way under his fangs.

The words came easily, had been repeated every Solstice. But this night—and the night prior—was the first time Bastian had ever truly meant it as he said, "My King, the Chosen will be safe in my care."

Luella stepped into Bastian’s side, and he pulled her away, fingers tightly clasped around her wrist.

She did not cause a scene; she did not try to plead with him through her thoughts.

Only when the flicker of blue flame and cheers and laughter grew faint, did he break character.

The halls were dim and deserted, and the hollow echo of their footsteps was the only sound as the revelry faded with every winding path they took throughout the castle.

Still, she was quiet.

Such behavior deserved a reward.

Bastian found a small alcove tucked between two thin windows and tugged her inside.

The moon was obscured by dark clouds, swiftly moving across the sky, and revealing flashes of moonlight every so often.

The alcove was dark and small, and her breath hitched as he backed her against the stone wall.

The pale light flickered across her face, casting slivers of shadows on her pale skin and white hair.

His chest brushed against hers, and he breathed her in. Intoxicating.

"So good for me," Bastian murmured.

Luella’s lashes fluttered at the praise, and he raised a hand, allowing his fingertips to trace the air before her. Her scent was already thick with desire—not one hint of the bitterly sick undertone that had plagued her not too long ago.

"Why are w-we here?" Her voice shook.

Bastian lowered his head, mouth grazing her ear as he whispered, "We’re waiting for a solution to a little problem." He smiled against her skin, allowing his fangs to brush her lobe. "You see, these lips"—he traced the pad of his thumb over the outline of her mouth—"lie, and I so detest liars."

A soft sound escaped her, her warm breath tickling his thumb. "What do you mean?" She pulled away slightly. "A solution for—for lies?"

He grinned, unable to help himself. Her confusion was endearing.

Besides, she would find out. Right now.

A shadow slid across the alcove’s entrance.

"I did not think you would accost her in the hallway," Vale announced, voice low in case any stragglers happened by their hiding spot.

Bastian turned his head only slightly, still leaning over Luella, pinning her against the wall with his body, an arm braced by her head. At the sound of the dragon shifter’s voice, her breath hitched, pulse thundering. He heard her blood rush through her veins, and his mouth watered.

He stared down at her, taking in how her eyes darted from his, back to Vale, fingers by her side gripping the stone wall at her back.

"It’s so hard to wait, Vale. Can you blame me?

" Bastian’s thumb was gentle as he traced the shape of her mouth.

And oh, look at that. His thumb accidentally dipped inside, pressing apart the seam of her lips as the pad of his thumb brushed her blunt teeth.

Dipping further, he felt the wetness of her tongue. "She’s so beautiful."

Her scent, already tinged with desire, only burned hotter, grew deeper. But even though her whole body screamed that she wanted him, her brows lowered in soft determination as her teeth dug into his thumb. It didn’t hurt. At all. But godsdamn it all, he wanted her to keep biting.

"Pet, if it makes you happy, bite me whenever you desire," he purred.

Luella jerked her head away, teeth grazing over his flesh as his thumb popped from her mouth. "It does not make me happy," she said softly.

But Bastian let himself drift into her mind—a stream that he kept open almost constantly; it was as easy as walking or talking, the way her mind opened so beautifully for him.

He felt her lies, how her thoughts were a whirl of curiosity and shame—shame that she felt such shame, and shame that she felt such curiosity.

"Those lies, pet." Bastian tsked and pulled away from her, allowing Vale to step as close as he could in the small alcove. "I am sorry for this. I will make it up to you, I promise," the vampire murmured.

Luella tried to take a step back but couldn’t. "Make what up?"

"Princess Luella," the King said, "for tonight, you will not lie or hide. Tell the truth of your feelings and desires."

And just like that, it was so.

She clutched her chest, chin quivering. "I cannot believe this," she all but snapped—still low, still sweet, but a novel sort of fire. "Actually, I can."

Bastian met Vale’s eyes.

Is this what she’s like in her mind? Vale’s thoughts drifted to him .

" You —if you are trying to earn my forgiveness, this is not the way," Luella said, staring at Bastian. "I was beginning to trust you but now—" She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Bastian grinned. Privy to her thoughts like he was, these feelings were not new to him.

You have no idea , he whispered to Vale.

Taking her hand from where it was held over her mouth, Bastian laced their fingers and began to tug her from the dark shadows of the alcove.

Smoke curled in the air as the King watched on. He would have to leave. And soon. They could explain away last night’s disappearance and say it was because she needed punishment for her insolence, but tonight, he had no such excuse.

"I’m so… so angry," she muttered by Bastian’s side. He had a hard time hiding the smile on his lips, so eventually, he stopped trying at all. "Don’t smile at me! This is not amusing. I’ll give you something to be amused by."

"I am very certain you could, pet," he said, feet stalling. She was forced to stop, too, and he took her falter as an opportunity to warn, "But quiet yourself."

Bastian inclined his head to Vale—who had not taken his eyes away from her—in a warning that her silence could be commanded. Bastian wouldn’t allow it, though. This was too much fun—and he didn’t want to push his luck. Right now, he still had her fragile, blooming trust.

Luella nodded jerkily.

"I will see you in the morning, Princess Luella. Rest well after your lessons. We leave at dawn for the Temples of Aedis, for the next part of your journey." And with that, Vale left, cape fluttering behind him as he disappeared down the hall and back to the sinful den of the revelers.

The Solstice celebration would be drinking and fucking for the remainder of the night to celebrate the Chosen’s pleasure lessons, as if in solidarity. Bastian wasn’t jealous; he would be able to bear witness to something much greater this eve: a female scorned, and finally able to speak freely.

When they arrived at Bastian’s room, Tharen was already there, waiting.

But this time, he was not sitting in the chair in the corner but on a small, wooden stool—a twin to the one beside it.

On the other side of the sheet, sat just one stool, where Bastian would instruct her.

In the mage’s fist, a thin piece of ribbon, silky and long.

She wouldn’t like this at all.

"It took you long enough," Tharen grumbled, running the ribbon through his fingers.

Bastian shut the door behind him, and Luella tugged her hand away, almost stomping to the other side of the sheet, where just one stool sat.