Page 92 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

She tugged her hand, but couldn’t move it from how Tharen kept the ribbon taut. So with one hand stolen by the male behind her, she lifted her other hand and slowly, so slowly, traced the air before the sheet.

Her fingertips shook, and the sheet fluttered from their breaths. His shadow was still as he waited and watched what she would do.

Luella traced over the line of his shoulders, over the shape of his profile, tickled the strands of his hair around his head, fingertips stroking over nothing as if imagining the soft silk of his dark hair was actually between her fingers.

And when nothing happened… when the room didn’t implode, and she was not struck by lightning from the gods for her sinful acts, only then, did she feel a sense of power kindle low inside her, mingling with her magic, entwining with the five threads—her Vincire.

Her palm flattened against the sheet—it was cool under her touch. As she stared at his shadow, she wondered what his skin would feel like.

She imagined it clearly. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift, pictured her hand flat against his lower stomach, dipping lower, tracing the ridges of his soft, lithe muscles, tracking invisible patterns into his skin, tapping along his ribs.

Swirling lower. Skating past his hipbones to his thighs. Teasing him.

Her lips twitched. Still, she kept her eyes closed .

You’re a little tease then, hm, pet.

Yes, she thought—not answering aloud, afraid to break this haze. But you like it, don’t you?

His whispered admission filled her: I love it. But I would love even more to tease you. To touch you.

Her lips parted, a shaky sigh leaving her. All at once, Bastian left her mind, and she was cold and empty without him inside her.

Luella opened her eyes.

"Oh no," she breathed.

The air shimmered like she was underwater, the sun sparkling across the surface—she had been so consumed with her mind that she had barely focused on the pulse of desire between her thighs and the thready feel of her limbs.

"I think I?—"

And Luella tumbled off the stool and onto Tharen’s lap…

The mage caught her, the stool under him groaning from their shared weight as she wrapped her bare thighs around his waist to keep from falling off.

The ribbon cut into her waist uncomfortably, the silk tangled around and around, forcing her hand at an odd angle, held at her back, with Tharen’s arm wrapped around her, keeping her tight to his chest.

The fabric of Tharen’s shirt scratched against her cheek, and she tried to pull away but let out a strangled noise as the action made her arm twist painfully at her back.

Tharen had no such hesitations. He placed his untethered hand on her shoulder and forced her back, shifting so she wasn’t settled so firmly atop his thighs—and the hardness that was poking against her. Her arm twinged with pain.

"S-stop!" she managed, cheeks on fire.

Footsteps, and then a rustle as the sheet was parted.

Luella could barely turn her head to look at Bastian from how she was trapped on Tharen’s lap.

"What a precarious position," said the vampire.

A tingle of awareness trickled down the knobs of her spin.

She was too vulnerable, clad only in lacy mesh, barely doing anything to conceal the points of her nipples or the curve of her backside.

Almost her whole body was exposed, and here she sat, tangled in Tharen’s lap by the ribbon wrapped around their wrists.

"Don’t just stand there," Tharen gritted. He tried to pull away again, and she gasped, making him freeze.

"Do you want help, Tharen?" Bastian crooned.

Her neck ached as she turned her head to stare at Bastian, finding the pale skin of his chest right before her face. She gulped as her eyes dipped to his thighs… He was entirely uncaring of how lewd he appeared with such hardness straining against the thin black briefs he wore.

Tharen grumbled. "Yes."

"Well, then ask for it," Bastian teased. "Because right now I have no motivation to help." He leaned down, breath ghosting over her nape, and she shivered, aware of the tingle between her thighs and the currents that ran under her skin. "The view is rather pleasing."

Tharen tugged on the ribbon.

"That hurts," Luella pleaded.

She couldn’t see his face, but she felt the eye roll he gave as he spat, "Fine, Bastian. Help her."

Her mouth fell open. He asked for help on her behalf?

"Well," Bastian started, "I don’t think I’ve ever heard you ask for anything before. Maybe under all that anger, you do have a soft spot for our little Vincire."

"Don’t push it," Tharen grumbled, but he was careful to keep still so he wouldn’t jostle her.

The vampire placed his hands on her shoulders, fingertips spanning along her bare back as he slowly untangled them. Her arm was pulled behind her as Tharen’s arm wrapped around her back, the ribbon cutting into her waist.

Bastian’s fingers snagged on her hair as he gently took the ribbon and unraveled it, unlooping the silk from where it wrapped around her forearm in tight twists.

She grimaced as Bastian raised her arm, then lowered it before her. The tautness of the ribbon finally relented, and Luella could pull away from Tharen without feeling pain.

"There. All untangled," Bastian announced, but his voice was tinged with a sad playfulness .

Luella sat back on Tharen’s lap, unable to meet his eyes as she instead stared at her bare thighs, wrapped indecently around his hips.

"Sorry," she muttered, starting to extricate herself from him.

His fingers tightened before he let her go.

Luella stood with one hand held before her, the ribbon still keeping her tethered to Tharen, as he sat and watched. His icy eyes burned like winter frost on her bare flesh.

She didn’t know if she was more embarrassed by how she’d fallen into Tharen’s lap, or by how part of her hadn’t wanted to leave it.

"Can I—may I have a robe? Or… or a blanket?" Her voice wavered with awkwardness.

The stool creaked as Tharen stood, and she peeked up at him. The mage held his hand before him, embers sparking at his fingertips. She stumbled back as he stepped forward, but it was not her he was moving toward, but the ribbon tying them together.

With fire-tipped fingers, the Prima grabbed the ribbon. Flames ate away the silk as it dissolved to ash, leaving dark smudges on Bastian’s rug.

Her chin trembled as the flames drew nearer, crawling up the silk until it licked against her wrist. But it didn’t burn. It was warm, pleasantly so. The flames turned the remainder of the ribbon to ash, and she was tied to Tharen no longer.

Free, she wrapped her arms around her midsection.

Tharen held her gaze as he tugged his shirt over his head and took another loud, brutish step toward her, pulling her arms free from where they wrapped around her body.

He put his shirt over her head, yanking it down to cover her nearly nude frame.

It swallowed her whole, falling to brush her knees.

It smelled like him, crisp and cold. She resisted the urge to bring the fabric up to her nose and inhale.

The mage’s bare flesh gleamed in the amber glow of the flames. His chest was a map of pale scars across his tanned skin. His muscles rippled, powerful, barely contained by his skin. So different from Bastian’s lithe build.

"I guess the ribbon wasn’t enough to keep you from me." The mage’s voice blanketed the room like falling snow .

Compelled to speak her mind, the words tumbled from her anxiously bitten lips:

"Did I fall asleep? Am I dreaming? Why are you being so nice to me?"

Bastian huffed a low laugh, a hand falling on her shoulder to pull her back into him. "Yes, Tharen, why are you being so… nice to her?" he mocked.

The mage’s lip curled. "Take her back to her room tonight." He pointed at Luella, and she shrank back into Bastian’s chest, wondering when she had started to find comfort in him. "I’ll see you at dawn, Princess. Try to get some sleep. And don’t let yourself get worked up.

I’m not in the mood to be awoken with you landing on top of me like some harlot," Tharen spat.

Bastian started to speak, but she cut him off before he could defend her.

"I am no such thing," Luella protested. "It’s not my fault you tricked me into this deal. If it weren’t for this mark on my chest"—she slapped her hand over her chest, knowing the small red circle was still on her skin, under his shirt that she wore—"I’d never even look at you again."

The words came easily.

Not a lie—not at all.

But why was she surprised by that?

And why did the flash of hurt that flickered in his eyes make her throat tighten?

It was quickly replaced by fury as Tharen snarled, "Then don’t. I don’t need you to look at me to fuck you and fulfill this godsdamned bargain. Maybe it was a mistake."

With that, he stormed from the room.

As Bastian’s door slammed shut, the vase on his night table rattled, and she flinched.

It was so quiet without him.

"Come, pet." Bastian’s fingers stroked down the length of her hair as he steered her to the door. Tharen’s shirt brushed her thighs with every step, and she tugged the hem down, nervous to enter the dark halls dressed so scantily—it was even worse knowing everyone knew what she had been forced to do; she could not hide .

"Let’s get you into bed. You’ll need all the rest you can get."

Luella’s room was quiet as she sat on her bed. Her arms were braced behind her, her head tipped back. She watched the white canopy flutter in the soft breeze blowing through the cracked-open balcony doors.

She still wore Tharen’s shirt.

Az stepped out from within her bathing chambers, a cloud of steam curling around him as his amber eyes immediately fell on her. His bare feet padded across the delicate rugs and cool floors as he came to stand by her bed.