Page 197 of A Dance of Water

Luella sighed at the feel. "That’s nice."

Behind her, Az grumbled. His legs were outstretched, bracketing her body as she sat nestled between his thighs. She still wore her simple white gown; though, the demon had removed his shirt, leaving his chest bare, tanned skin dotted with water.

Tharen was waiting. They had to hurry. But all she wanted was to stay here, with her protector.

Az’s fingers massaged her scalp. Bubbles popped around them, some clinging to her legs. The soap had been washed away from her hair, but Az still cupped water in his hands, bringing it up to flow down her crown. He seemed content to let her wet strands pool in his hands, running his fingers through it, transfixed.

"You don’t have to go with him, angel," Az murmured.

She rested her cheek on her knees as she stared at the water. She knew she would not be able to sit here if it were not for Az. He grounded her.

"What other choice do I have?" she whispered, knowing every word was being heard by Tharen, where his footsteps shuffled outside the closed door of the bathing chambers. She imagined him pacing along the length of her room, his heavy boots kicking up the corners of soft rugs. "I don’t think he’ll h-hurt me. He’s had every opportunity to but…"

"He can hurt you with more than just touch," Az said.

She swallowed, thinking of Tharen’s games, the red circle of her unfilled bargain on her chest. Thinking of how he caught her in Bastian’s room, how his hands had held her steady.

"I know."

Thunder rumbled outside, but there was norain. Sometime in the quiet heat of her lessons with Bastian, the soft drizzle had abated, as if staying locked inside her instead of being able to be let free in the elements. She felt her power thrumming under her skin, beating in time with the near-constant throb of awareness between her thighs.

Az gently gathered the ends of her hair and squeezed. Water trickled down her back. "How—" He cleared his throat, and from that one word, she heard how much this pained him. "How was it?"

Luella squeezed her eyes shut, seeing nothing but flashes of the white curtain, Bastian’s watching silhouette, and how her hand had felt as she cupped her breasts. "He did not t-touch me." She bit her lip hard to stop the shakiness in her voice. "And nothing was forced upon me."

"That’s a lie."

She flinched from the heat in Az’s tone, and his hands gentled her.

"You’ve been forced into this from the start. If you believe you have a choice, then they’ve done a better job of breaking you than I thought. I care for you, Lu. Iloveyou. I hate to just sit here and watch what you’ve become."

He swiped a finger over her bottom lip, his touch achingly gentle. "You know," he murmured, almost to himself, "I heard more laughter from you in the dungeons than I have here. I feel your pain like it’s my own. And gods help me, I want them to beg for hurting you. I want them to regret it…"

Why did she feel the need to defend them? Had she been that influenced?

But Tharen’s usual animosity had softened when he held her—his hands had been protective. Bastian’s eyes had been filled with such angst, as if he hated having to instruct her on how to please another. She didn’t think they were as eager for this as Az assumed.

"Az—"

He rested his head carefully on her shoulder, and she caught the curves of his horns in her peripheral vision; he was always so careful to keep her safe from him. She turned her head, water dripping from her fingertips as she cupped his cheek. She pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His skin tasted faintly of soap.

"I can’t keep you from this, angel," he whispered against her. "I can’t say much, but I’ll always—always keep you safe. I vowed to you."

She breathed him in, momentarily forgetting the water and the terror it held. "I didn’t… do anything that I did not wish to. I do not want to be with Vale"—liar, her mind whispered—"but I have n-no choice." Her breath caught. "At least I’m alive, and you’re alive with me."

She was trying to comfort him, but she realized the truth to her words—save the one glaring lie. A part of her was greatly interested in the idea of being with Vale. He intrigued her. Maybe it was a manifestation of their bond, but she found herself entranced by them all. Her Vincire.

Her lesson with Bastian had been nonconsensual, forced. But at least he had made it safe for her.

She would not lie and tell herself that, at any time, she could choose differently. She was on a track carved in the stars, and nothing could get her out of it, invisible hands pushing her toward an inevitable fate.

A loud rap on the door made her jolt, water sloshing around them both as Az tightened his hands on her.

Tharen’s voice carried through the door: "Very heartwarming, but if I’m ever going to get some fucking sleep, I’d appreciate it if you’d hurry up."

"C-coming," she called.

Tharen’s boots thumped on the ground right outside the door. "Doubtful."

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