Page 171 of A Dance of Water

His mind conjured up an endless expanse of pale skin and soft thighs, the perfect swell of her breasts made for his hands. Gods, he wanted to sink his fangs in her supple flesh. Maybe she would let him—one day.

A sensual smile broke free on his plush lips at the mere thought.

Wrapped in a dreamy cloud of her scent, he drifted. Banished all thoughts of darkness and war. Thought only of her.

It worked for a time. Until it didn’t.

He hadn’t lied when he told Luella that he believed in her. That was the problem. He believed in her and the Fates too much.

The door to the bathing chambers creaked open, and steamdrifted from within the dimly lit space, smelling of vanilla, lavender, andher.

Bundled in Az’s arms, her white hair hung in lazy, damp curls around her slim shoulders. A white, fluffy towel was wrapped around her body, tucked under her arms, revealing her neck. He ran his tongue over the point of his fangs as he watched her.

Too soft. Too sweet.

War would break her.

She couldn’t even bathe alone. How could she lead armies and become their Queen as the prophecy demanded?

Water dripped from Azgorath’s bare chest and left dark stains on the plush carpets adorning the floors. He walked to the bed and lay her down in the middle, shooting Bastian a distrustful look as he made sure the towel was tucked tight around her.

"What?" Bastian mumbled, raising a hand before him in taunting placation. He was careful to be quiet. Luella seemed to have fallen asleep. Good. She needed the rest.

"No winding her up," the demon said. "It will only hurt her." He settled down on Luella’s other side, pressing against her as he swept away a few drying strands of her hair.

"I wouldn’t dream of it." Bastian rolled onto his side and held himself up with a fist against his cheek, staring down at her. The gauzy fabric of the canopy mingled with the flickering flames, casting unique shadows on her pale skin.

The blindfold on her delicate face, the towel clinging to her, and the steady rise and fall of her chest were nearly obscene. His mind spun with fantasies…

The three interconnected circles of the Binding mark were visible from the low cut of the towel, and he skimmed a finger over the ink, tracing the shapes as he thought of Tharen and Graves. The amulet was nestled between her breasts, and the blue stone complemented her skin. Bastian knew that wasn’t Tharen’s intention when he had crafted it for her, but he wondered if the Prima found pleasure in her wearing something he had made—Bastian knew he would. Every time she accepted his gifts, he preened.

"You didn’t say anything, about the bath…" Azgorath prodded.

"There’s nothing to say, beast. I already knew." Bastian continued stroking over her chest. "And I’m not the only one."

"What do you mean?"

"It’s hard to keep secrets from one with Mind magic and one who loves to watch, is it not?"

Bastian knew. Her dreams. Where she had gone when her glamor had been lifted. The fear of water, the thoughts of not being enough. Graves knew, as well—the male loved to watch. Bastian had heard his thoughts of obsessively stalking their little captive throughout the halls, freely trailing after her now that she couldn’t see.

Azgorath’s amber eyes grew dark as he stared down at her. "What do you think of it all? Her dreams, these… these visions. She went somewhere different when her magic awoke. She said it was a place of stardust and darkness. She told me she saw us in the Fate’s lair." He looked up at Bastian, curving horns casting shadows on his cheeks. "I don’t know what this means. I’m worried for her."

Bastian was, too. "I think there is something much grander at play here than us."

He thought of darkness and light, stars and shadows. The journey to the Temples of Aedis loomed. A place of worship to the gods who had abandoned them—but that didn’t stop them from honoring the gods to earn their favor back. Maybe it was working… The gift of Vincire, once freely given. There hadn’t been Vincire in centuries.

And they were the first to break the drought.

"Graves and Tharen will be back in two days. Perhaps they will bring answers," said the vampire.

"Do you think they’ll be able to find her?"

Bastian hummed. "Tharen’s predecessor has been hiding, but if anyone were to find her, it would be those two."

Tharen was like a hound with a bone; he wouldn’t let up until they found the prior Prima.

He worried for when they found her, however. Would Tharen’s lead ring true? Did his predecessor have something to do with the glamor on Luella?

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