Page 125 of A Dance of Water

She took his hand and moved it under the water, holding his palm against her navel.

"Here," she whispered, "and l-lower…"

A blush burned her skin, but it had nothing on the heat flowing through her veins.

He chuckled deeply. "That’s desire."

"Like l-lust?" she inquired meekly, thinking of lecherous acts in flickering candlelight, bodies moving together amid a glittering throne room.

"It can be, but what I feel for you is more than mere lust." Az pressed his lips to the shell of her ear and whispered into it, "I desire your heart, not just your body, Lu."

Dazed, she nodded. She felt that for him, too, but she was too scared to say it. So she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, and he took control, turning it from tenderly searching toall-consuming.

The throbbing sensation between her thighs only grew heavier, and the air buzzed around her.

Luella pulled away from Az, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I think—" Her head swam. "I think something’s wrong."

The words no sooner left her lips before she fell into nothingness, hands slipping away from Az’s warm body as she tumbled gracelessly onto something hard and uncomfortable.

42

FALL ONTO ME

THAREN

Ahalf-naked, wet female was on his lap.

"What the fuck?" Tharen growled.

Luella, clad in nothing but a soaking wet, thin robe, was pressed against him as he sat around the large oak table in Bastian’s advisory room. She shivered, hands curling around his shirt. Water droplets fell from her hair and wet his clothes. His lap was soaked, water puddled against the floor.

"W-what? What… h-happened?" Luella stammered. She shifted on his lap, and godsdamn it all to the Below he was already fucking aching.

They had just been in the midst of talks about the little Princess, and as if their thoughts had made her manifest, she popped into being, tumbling right onto Tharen’s lap.

A clamor of voices pierced the air.

Vale shot out of his seat, shock marring his features. It took a lot to shock the King. Graves’s blue eyes were wide, the corners of his mouth turned down, making the pale scar on his face tighten. The male was observant as he watched. Tharen knew the wheels in his mind were turning, it wouldn’t be long before the Knight figured out what had happened.

Bastian was the only one who was calm. Tharen guessed the vampire would already know—he was good at chipping away at secrets encased within the deepestparts of a mind.

"How did she get here?" Vale demanded, pointing a finger at the wet Princess on his lap.

Luella’s soft voice murmured, "Vale?" She reared back when Tharen raked his hands down her backside, pressing her flush against his front. She whimpered softly—but no sound escaped ears like theirs.

Fuck, Tharen was hard as a rock.

But how could he not be? She was trembling, wet, and draped over him like a gift from the Above.

"Hello, little lamb," Tharen whispered against the crown of her head. He moved her down against his thighs, feeling her slide against him. She shuddered; he knew she felt his hardness, even if she didn’t know what it was. He wouldn’t be surprised if she were that naive.

"Where… am I?" she asked, disconcerted. "How did I get here?"

"That is what I would like to know," said the King. He rounded the table and stood by Tharen’s side, reaching down to grip the back of her wet hair and tilt her head back.

The position was lewd. Pressed against Tharen’s lap, his arms locked around her, with Vale holding her head back and keeping her trapped between them. The lithe expanse of her neck was bared, and Tharen licked his lips.

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