Page 204 of A Dance of Water

Bastian swallowed.

A small mirror was in the corner of his room, atop his dresser. Atiny circle that he used for aid when he changed his many earrings and jewelry. He had accidentally left it out earlier in the evening in his haste to hurry to the Solstice celebration.

And now that mirror allowed him to see every bit of her skin as she stood, clad only in the thinnest of fabrics—a brassiere that hugged her soft breasts, no straps, just a nearly see-through weave of material that grazed her pink, pebbled nipples with every breath. He still remembered the way she tasted. How she arched up into him.

His eyes traced the gentle curve of her waist, down to her hips, seeing a thin pair of panties hugging her flesh.

"Gods," Bastian breathed lowly. He had to swallow to stop emotion from leaking into his voice. "What are you doing to me?" He shook his head. The sheet fluttered as he moved closer; her heart rate increased.

"The same thing you’re doing to me," she replied.

Bastian forced himself to look back at her shadow, watching the ripples and soft shifting movements from the wavering flames in the corners of his room. It wasnothingcompared to the real image of her—her skin and her softness.

Luella moved behind the sheet, and he was weak. Too weak.

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. He had said he wouldn’t look at her—but it hadn’t been a promise, perhaps that was why he allowed himself to look.

Just once more. Only one.

His eyes shifted to the corner, finding her form in the mirror.

And there, in the reflection of the small mirror, he saw her as she sat delicately on the stool, once more, overtaken by Tharen’s sheer size as he sat, with his back to her. The line of the mage’s shoulders was tense, and Bastian moved a step to the side, carefully, so he could devour even more of her that had been hidden by the angle.

Only, he was not granted more of her, but a pair of eyes like chips of ice as Tharen peered into the mirror, catching his gaze.

The mage smirked.

Bastian blew out a harsh breath through his teeth, caught.

Through the open doorway between their minds, Tharen’s words drifted:

You’re not as chivalrous as you claim, Bastian, even you succumb to sin when it beckons.

And the vampire promptly shut him out, turning to keep the mage out of his line of vision—leaving only Luella and her enchanting body.

64

SINFULLY GUILTY

LUELLA

Tharen was a warm, imposing presence at Luella’s back. Her spine brushed his shirt with every breath; that was how close he sat to her.

Her skin prickled with chill bumps, the wooden stool cold against her bare thighs. Bastian’s shadow was large, and she traced the slight narrowing of his waist, the way his strong thighs were slanted open, unabashed. If only she could be so brave. She placed a hand over the Binding mark on her chest, her toes brushing against her discarded gown as she shifted on the stool. She felt turned inside out, everything she had tried so dearly to keep buried deep down, lying freely in the open. Her ribs were cracked, her heart flayed, bare for all to see.

For tonight, Luella could keep no secrets.

Her whole body was shaking, small tremors that quaked her thighs. She couldn’t get comfortable. The ribbon around her wrist tugged as Tharen did something at her back, and she was forced to pull her hand away from her chest from the tension in the silk.

Thunder rumbled.

"How long will it be like this?" Her words filled the quiet of Bastian’s room.

Tharen tensed at her back but remained silent.

"Do you mean the storms?" Bastian murmured.

The white sheet fluttered from a cool drift of air that appeared from nowhere, as all the windows and doors were shut. She shivered.

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