Page 159 of A Dance of Water

Anger pounded against him like war drums.

Anger at himself, for everything he had done. At Tharen, for keeping secrets.

And at her. The small, wretchedly sweet thing in his arms, for pushing herself too far, for trying to fit a mold she was not crafted for. She wasn’t ready for any of this.

He tightened his arms around her, feeling the sharp sting of rain against his face as he shielded her with his body.

The horses kicked up mud with every pounding beat of their hooves.

Vale’s cloak billowed out behind him in golden swaths. She twitched against him, small hand curling against his chest before she stilled. Dried blood crusted above her lip, marring her too-pale skin.

He spurred the horse onward with a snap of the reins, urgency pushing him forward.

"Stay with me," Vale said. "You have to stay with me."

She stirred against him, fingers tightening against his chest.

Vale held his breath.

Her pretty pink lips parted with a soft puff of air, and even over the roar of the storm, he heard her mumbled words clearly:

"You have his eyes."

And then she relaxed against him, hands slackening as she was stolen back into sleep—into dreams.

He was alone.

Luella lay in her bed. The white, fluttering drapes cast delicate shadows on her skin. The blindfold was as pure as she, painting her as an untouchable goddess. Or the angel Azgorath likened her to.

Vale ran a shaking finger over her hair, fanned out over her. "This reminds me of before," he whispered in the quiet of her room, "when you first fell into an endless sleep." He rubbed a strand of her white hair between his fingertips, feeling the softness. "But now everything is different, and I cannot?—"

He bowed his head, damp, golden hair falling into his eyes.

"I loathe you, but I need you more than I have ever needed anything."

The admission was painful, pulled from his lips as if by the claws of the godsdamned beast inside him.

Smoke filled the room.

Taste her,hissed the dragon.

"No," Vale said.

Even knowing if he did take her,tasteher, it would help her. She would have to give in to them—to her Vincire. Or the sickness plaguing her would only grow.

Vale leaned over her, bracing an arm by her head.

"I need to possess you," he breathed against her face. He traced over the edge of her silken blindfold, hand trailing down her jaw, along her lithe neck, before pressing over the Binding mark that peeked out from the sheets draped over her—the rest of him was taut as a bowstring above her, afraid to move closer, to give in. "And I will. But I wonder if by then, you will own me just the same."

54

YOU HAVE HIS EYES

LUELLA

Every breath hurt.

Luella dug her fingernails into her palm to keep herself awake, feeling crescent-shaped indents mar her skin.

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