Page 131 of A Dance of Water

"I can’t wait to hear what you’re going to say without her around," Tharen taunted. "Come on, give it to me."

"I want to kill you," Vale said simply, "but I cannot. And even if I could, I most likely wouldn’t. What you did was reckless. You undermined my authority. I don’t forgive or forget easily." His dragon huffed, and if Vale didn’t know better, he’d think it to be a laugh. "But Bastian proposed an out… We continue with our plan. Let her think she has to lie with me in the Temples."

The advisory room’s door creaked open and shut as Graves returned.

"What happens when she must sacrifice her pleasure and cannot do so without Tharen?" Graves muttered.

"You think she’ll be able to resist me that long? The mourning period is a fortnight," Tharen provoked. "How about a wager?"

Vale cut his hands sharply in the air. "Enough. We’ll deal with that if it arises. For now, we continue with our plan. Release the demon."

Tharen sighed, but the fiery chains turned to smoke as they fell away from Azgorath. The demon charged forward.

Vale stopped him with only a look as he said, "Remember what I said, Azgorath. We will train her again, and if you wish to accompany us, behave."

The demon’s nostrils flared, horns held out as his chin dipped toward his chest. He did not speak.

Vale headed for the doors. Over his shoulder, he called out, "Meet me in the courtyard. I believe we all need to let out some anger."

Vale wiped away the blood on his split lip with a wicked smirk. His dragon rumbled in glee at the violence, begging to be let free, to join in on the fun.

Next time,Vale assured.

A fist slammed into his stomach, but he barely felt it. His whole body was a map of healing bruises and cuts. No sooner would a dark bruise start to heal than another would replace it.

He loved it.

And he wasn’t the only one who found the violence so freeing.

Under the thick darkness of the cloud-covered night sky, Tharen tipped his head back and let loose a loud, booming laugh. "Fuck!" The mage shook his head, braids hitting his cheeks as he smiled widely.

Rain pelted against his skin, mingling with blood and sweat.

Luella’s storm coated Vale’s skin, and he loved having a piece of her on him. He could almost pretend it was her body that was draped over his, her wetness that coated his face and lingered on his lips. But when he licked his lips and tasted only the iron tang of blood and not the sweetness of strawberries and arousal, the dream was shattered.

Azgorath lay under the cover of an apple tree, head pillowed on his arm as he watched with a healing black eye and bruised jawline, courtesy of Tharen. Graves stood and paced along the line of grass, desperate for his turn. And Bastian watched, not a speck of blood on his skin or hair out of place. As always, the vampire refrained from joining the violence, content to watch.

Ever since that night in the Fate’s lair, they hadn’t been able to hurt each other—not with the intent of grave harm or death. That didn’t stop a good sparring match; so long as they used it as only a means to rid themselves of tension—and not with intent to kill—they could land a punch. They had had centuries of working on tamping down their murderous rage when they sparred, making them all very practiced in landing the perfect punch.

The day they had discovered they couldn’t hurt each other had been a tense one. Tharen, as always, had ribbed the demon for his lack of bed partners. When Azgorath snapped and revealed he was saving himself for their future Vincire—for a mere promise—Tharen had taunted him relentlessly, until the demon had not been able to take it any longer. But his hits had met a strange resistance.

It had been Graves who figured it out; since the Fate’s lair, they hadn’t been able to deal each other serious damage.

Vale found himself missing simpler times. Everything was fucked up now. Especially him.

He landed a sharp hit against Tharen’s neck, and the mage wheezed.

"Godsdammit." Tharen struggled to breathe. "That was uncalled for."

Vale cracked his knuckles. "Like stealing her from me?"

"Oh, please." Tharen spat blood on the ground. "Like you were actually going to fuck her. You said so yourself. You were just going to make her pleasure herself alone in the Temples."

They circled each other. Vale clenched his fist as he jabbed out and hit Tharen’s shoulder.

"That doesn’t excuse what you did," Vale seethed.

Tharen kicked out his leg and hit Vale’s side. Pain flared in his ribs. He reveled in it.

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