Page 161 of A Dance of Water

She squeaked as Tharen lifted her with ease, bundling her against his chest as he sat further down the bed, placing her sideways over his lap. His thighs were hard and strong under hers. The strap of her gown fell off her shoulder, and she shivered as he tugged it up with rough fingers.

"What? I’m just doing what you asked. It’s not like you can’t watch," Tharen said.

His words made her flush. Even tired and trembling, he still had such a hold over her.

"Stop with the games, Prima." The King’s voice washed over her, making the unsettled, fraying threads in her soul perk up.

"We are your Vincire," Tharen whispered over her neck, fingers tightening along her skull as he threaded them through her strands. "We are destined, made for each other. Your body knows it." Hesettled his palm over her navel. "Your soul knows it. Yet, you refuse. Your body is rebelling against you for not giving in to us."

Her lips parted as a small, shocked noise escaped her. His hand moved lower, and the other banded over her chest, keeping her trapped against him. This was the most settled she had felt in days, she realized. The cloud that had blanketed her lifted ever so slightly, and she was all too aware of the truth to his words—even if theyburned.

"I am being… punished for making a choice?" she said.

Tharen’s lips pressed against her ear. "Yes." She felt him smile against her.

He pulled away from her, and she curled her knees up to her chest and held them as she sat by his side. The absence of his scent made weariness grip her with a vengeance, and she listed toward him, unbidden.

"What does this mean," she uttered, "f-for me?"

"It means you will have to give in. Or succumb to sickness," said Vale.

A weary sigh fell from her lips. "How?"

A low hiss permeated the air, mingling with the roar of rain outside the walls. Vale stepped closer to her. She felt him, sensed him, wrapping around her like smoke as he said, "There is an old ceremony from time past, when Vincire were prevalent, before the gods decided to take the gift away. It is done to bind the Vincire in body and spirit."

"Marriage?" she inquired softly, breaths short and labored. The silk sheets under her were cool, but she was burning.

"Not marriage, but more than. It is called the Rite of Vincire. To bind the Vincire wholly."

"That sounds… permanent." Luella felt their eyes on her skin. Another secret, another thing she had been kept in the dark on. And another way to rob her of her autonomy.

Tharen brushed a finger over her thigh. "It is, but no more permanent than we already are. You can’t run from fate."

"Nor us," Vale murmured, voice hard.

With this one revelation, she had a million more questions.What did this Rite of Vincire entail? Would she truly die if she did not bind herself to them? What if…

What if she refused?

One thing at a time, pet. Don’t ask questions you aren’t ready to receive the answer to,Bastian crooned.

She didn’t want this. Even weak and aching as sickness punished her for not giving in to her captors, she did not want to break. Not on this. Not with all the lies. She could not trust any of them. And a small, traitorous part whispered that perhaps her demon was not to be fully trusted either. He lied once about their destiny. Who was to say he would not lie again?

Venomous green shadows made her breath stall. Was Bastian inside her? Did he see Caliban’s eyes, too?

But the vampire did not say a word.

She shoved the images down, deep—afraid.

Knowing the way things worked, the Rite was most likely as vile and treacherous as the Binding mark on her chest. She didn’t want to know, couldn’t bring herself to ask what would be expected of her.

So, she said the one thing she felt was right:

"I… I will not."

No response. The soft crackle of the fire made her sweaty cheeks flush a deeper red. She waited. And waited.

Until Tharen gripped her arm. She flinched away from him, but he only held her harder. "You’d rather rot than let us have you?" he seethed.

---