Page 170 of A Dance of Water

It feels better to know they are given freely,he purred in her mind.

Luella bit her lip, tugging the blanket a bit higher on her lap.

Warm, sugary chocolate melted against her senses. Oh, how she had missed feeling so secure in the arms of her demon.

Az sat at her other side. She dipped toward him as he settled, bracing a hand on his thigh to stop herself from falling face-first into his lap. His low grumbles radiated through her pleasantly.

"I’m thinking of how everything has changed," she uttered. "How I once sat curled under a blanket in Solis while my nose was buried in some fantasy story."

A familiar burn stretched her digits as Az’s large fingers laced with hers. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once the words started, she found she had a hard time stopping.

"I used to dream of being brave and strong. To be like the heroines in my books. But now that I have power, I wish that I didn’t… Does that make me bad?"

"It makes you normal, Lu," said Az. "Just don’t spend your life wishing it away."

He was right. She had learned about wishes, anyway. They were futile.

"The Fates knew what they were doing. You were not a mistake. I have faith you will save us all and defeat the Tenebrae, Luella." Bastian’s usually sensual tone was solemn.

"Then why do you sound so anguished, Bastian?" she whispered, darkness making her bold.

"Because I fear what will be left of you when it is all over. How many pieces will be taken and broken?"

At that, she could say nothing—do nothing.

She feared the same.

And he knew that she did.

The air grew peaceful, and their scents melted into her skin like butter on fresh-baked bread. With the soft trickle of water into the pools and the echoing roar of rain as it beat down overhead, she struggled to keep her eyes open, wishing nothing more than to crack open a story and fall into pages.

A soft puff of air, tingling against the shell of her ear, and Bastian said, "If that is what you wish."

She didn’t have time to pay attention to his words before Az wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Graves’s cloak, the warm blanket, and their large bodies soothed her in a way she did not think was possible.

Az pressed the back of his hand to her cheek, then her forehead. "You still have a fever."

With a soft rustle of pages, Bastian’s voice filled the room,making her arms pebble with every perfectly enunciated word. The timbre was a low croon, washing over her like ocean waves.

He read her a tale woven by a masterful mind—a fictitious story of a tavern wench who was suddenly transported to another realm and found herself bound to an evil sorcerer. Luella was transfixed by the heroine’s story, finding her head lolling against Az’s chest as his large hands carded through her hair. Sleepily, she leaned against him, her thighs pressing against Bastian.

Maybe wishes weren’t futile.

56

SHARING IS CARING

BASTIAN

The demon carried Luella into the bathing chambers with a sharp look at Bastian. He raised a groomed brow as the door shut behind Azgorath’s large frame.

Save for the constant pouring rain, Luella’s room was quiet. The white canopy fluttered in the candlelight, and he parted the swaths of fabric, reclining on her bed with a sound of relief. It smelled like her. Strawberries and creamy sugar. Sweet and innocent.

He pillowed his head on his arm, letting his eyes drift closed as he breathed her in. He could almost trick himself that she was lying beside him.

His fangs pulsed like a heartbeat as he listened to the faint splashing of water and low murmurs from the bathing chamber.

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