Page 108 of A Dance of Water

Tharen notched his chin on a hand as he regarded her, eyes shining with mirth as if saying,Yes, carry on.

"Train me, Tharen." She inwardly cheered when she did not stumble over his name. "Train me like you do your young, take my sight, and help me connect with the elements."

"Your plan has a flaw, Princess. I only wield the four elements, not the magic of Solis and Luna."

She hadn’t thought of that. "It does not matter. I’m desperate to understand this magic inside me. I’ll take whatever I can get." Perhaps it was foolish to be so vulnerable, for males like the ones before her loved to prey upon vulnerability.

"Oh, you will?" Tharen taunted. Her words seemed to force interest into his eyes, his posture leaning forward as he questioned, "And what would you give for my help?"

"Anything," she breathed, knowing the brevity of her words even as she said them. "I don’t say that lightly." Her words were a whisper.

Tharen and Graves shared a heavy look.

"I might need some more convincing," said the mage. "So convince me."

It was Graves who spoke up and saved her. "I made her so worked up that she froze my whiskey glass. Water came to her rescue when she was held beneath the waves."

Graves’s words first brought to mind images of frigid ice melting against her collarbones, but then evoked reaching hands and silent screams; she shuddered.

He walked toward her, silk in his hands. She tried not to shrink back. He brushed the end of the silk against her cheek—soft and cool. He ghosted the silk over her flushing skin and pressed it over her mouth. She peered up at him with wide eyes, breaths hot against it. Slowly, Graves’s lips chased after it, and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against hers, the silk a thin barrier between them.

Her eyes fluttered shut, a whimper escaping her. But a harsh boom of thunder made her aware of where she was andwhoshe was with. Her eyes popped open. She found the males staring at her with fascination.

"When she feels heightened emotions, her magic makes itself known," Graves murmured, pulling the silk away from her face.

"Maybe she just needs to be fucked," Tharen said lowly, voice gruff. "That’s how we can train her."

Her breaths were shaky. "N-no. I don’t need… that. I want you to take my sight and train me."

Graves’s head tipped back with a short laugh, a strand of black hair falling over his temple. The action was so unlike him that she paused, staring at him.

Tharen clicked his tongue. "Watch out for him, lamb. He’s no knight like his title proclaims. He’ll eat you alive if you give him the opportunity."

Luella silently pointed to the book, trying to ignore the strange awareness between her thighs and the rapid beating of her heart as she was cornered by them.

"Anything?" Tharen prodded. She nodded fervently, feeling like she was offering her soul on a silver platter. The magesurged forward and caught her wrists, holding them as he towered over her. Her neck ached as she stared at him, equal parts fearful and riveted. "Have you ever felt pleasure before, by your own hand or someone else?" He leaned down and skimmed the tip of his nose over her cheek.

She shook her head. Never. And he knew that.

Tharen pulled back slightly. "Then, I get to be the first to bring you pleasure, little lamb."

Her mouth parted, a soft sound escaping her. She rubbed her thighs together to ease the soft throb between them, and his head snapped down to watch. Her cheeks flamed.

"Why do you want that from me?" she whispered as she stared up at him.

His hand tightened around her wrist, and he breathed deeply. "Don’t ask about things you don’t want the answer to."

She swallowed.

Tharen dropped her wrists as though they burned him. "A deal in blood, lamb. I do not trust your word."

Well…

"I don’t trust yours, either," she said.

They were at a standstill.

Graves cleared his throat, his gravel-like voice soothing her as he stepped forward, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. "The choice is yours, Luella. Make the deal or don’t."

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