Page 193 of A Dance of Water

Her fingers bunched up the skirts of her gown. She could feel the lace under her dress, constricting, brushing against her hardened nipples with every shaky breath.

"But if you will not see me, why must I wear those t-things?" Even the privacy of the sheet could not help the quiver in her voice.

"That will be the first part of your lessons, pet. Pleasure is not just about pleasing others, but also finding pleasure in yourself." Bastian’s voice dropped to a whisper. "There is power in pleasure."

She stared as his shadow traced along his side, skimming up over his ribs, elegant fingertips brushing along his thighs. He turned his head, revealing his perfect profile cast onto the sheet—the line of his nose, the strong curve of his jaw, the slope of his forehead… his plush lips.

She saw the long line of his fingers reflected onto the sheet as he held a hand up, tilting his head back. The shadowed strands of his hair fell, tickling his shoulders, and she watched his throat bob as he swallowed, intimate and exposed, as his head remained tipped back, his hand held perfectly before him. It was as if he were an entertainer on a stage. A part of her hated it, that he felt inclined to put on a show for her—it was onlyher, after all. Another part loved seeing this side of him. The carefully curated movements, every action, every breath orchestrated.

Luella watched, breathlessly, realizing that she, too, was putting on a show for him. She was both an actor and his audience.

It was so quiet, she could hear the soft crackle of flames from the candles. The misted fall of light rain outside the castle drenched them in intimacy.

Head tipped back, Bastian slowly ran the tip of his finger over the line of his face, tracing down from his forehead, over his nose,following the dips of his lips and rise of his chin, until that finger traced along his bobbing throat, dipping lower. And lower.

Luella’s hands ached. She didn’t realize she was gripping the fabric of her gown so tightly that small tears marred the delicate material. She released her skirts, wiping her clammy palms on her thighs.

She wanted to look away.

She didn’t want to look away.

She was caught. Torn.

Hyperaware of her dry mouth. From nerves. From desire.

She had never felt this way before. Not when Graves had stolen her first kiss. Not when her bargain with Bastian had been collected, and he had first pressed his lips to hers amid the raging revelry of the Solstice. Not when Az had so lovingly tasted her.

Not when Tharen devoured her from the outside in—amongst a swirl of air, their joined magics.

And not when she danced with Vale, his hands spanning her waist, and those green eyes searing away every layer she tried so desperately to keep herself shrouded in.

Never.

Fidgeting, shifting. She couldn’t find a comfortable way to sit without becoming aware of the tingle on her skin and the pulse of feeling between her thighs.

"Do you know what pleases a male?" Bastian’s voice was a stream of heated water, building her up, up, up.

Luella licked her lips. "N-no."

A brush against her mind, and she was wrapped up in images, snippets of feelings. An ocean of desire. She was suddenly seeing herself from a different angle.

Through Bastian’s eyes.

The vampire let his vision of her trickle inside her, filling her with heated temptations and unadulterated desires.

She saw the small shadow of herself, shoulders curved in. A few wisps of stray strands frizzed around her silhouette like a dark halo. Her elbows pointed out, leaving a small triangle of empty space on the sheet where her hands disappeared into the larger mass of her shadow—clasped on her lap, she knew.

"Thispleases a male, pet. A warm body and soft hands. Those breathy little sounds you try to stifle, but aren’t quite able to." Bastian’s eyes traced over the shape and dips and curves of her silhouette, and she watched it all through his eyes. "Your shape, hidden just enough to let the mind go wild. A canvas to reflect your grandest wishes and deepest desires upon… Someone like you. A perfectly beautiful temptation, spun from the hidden parts of a heart."

Everything felt too light, like she might drift away. "Are these lessons not to please the King?" she breathed. She didn’t wait for him to respond before she said, "Why do you speak of me as if you w-want me?"

The sheet rippled, and his shadow grew larger. A hand pressed upon it, and she itched to trace the shape of his fingers and the lines of his wrist.

Touch, he urged in her mind.

Luella let her shaking hand hover before the sheet, dwarfed by the shadow of his outstretched fingers. The fabric of the sheet tickled her palm as Bastian spanned the last breath of space between them and touched his hand to hers, the sheet the only barrier.

"Have I not made my intentions clear enough, pet?" he purred. "Have I not been open about how desperately I ache for you? Don’t tell me you have forgotten what it feels like to be on the receiving end of my desire."

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