Page 206 of A Dance of Water

Good. Let it, Bastian said into her mind.

He was showing her how to touch another male, yet his words never alluded to it, as if he were in some bubble of his own making. That was why she couldn’t help but say:

"You mean I should t-touch Vale like this?"

A low growl rumbled through her back as Tharen shifted—but he didn’t speak again.

Silence lingered.

A shaky breath spilled from her parted lips. The power within her swelled like ocean waves, and in the distance, the thunder grew louder. But no deluge.

Finally, Bastian spoke:

"Yes." His voice had lost its soft croon. "You should touch Vale like this."

She nodded, even though he could not see; swallowed, but the sound was too loud in the hush of the room.

"Use your words," said Bastian.

"Okay," she breathed. "I will touch him as you instruct me to."

"Good, pet."

His shadow grew, a flickering hand pressing against the sheet—just as he had done the night prior. With one hand still disappearing between his thighs, the other ghosted over the sheet. She shivered like she couldfeelhis touch on her skin.

The air held a faint shimmer, sparkling in her periphery. No, no, no.

She thought the ribbon would help. Maybe it was her imagination.

Luella’s fingers tightened on the ribbon around her wrist, forcing Tharen’s hand to brush against her forearm. That one touch sparked a tempest of feeling inside her. A soft gasp fell from her lips. She could’ve sworn tiny sparks zinged between them.

Unaware of how worked up she was—or perhaps not, given that he was inside her mind—Bastian’s shadowed hand traced over the sheet, fingers dipping down and slowly following the path of her curves where they were cast onto the fabric between them.

"And he will touch you here."

He spread his thighs further apart, allowing the shape of his hand to be visible, and she watched as his fingertips moved lower, hovering over the space between her thighs. Her breath hitched.

"He will part your thighs."

The air was heavy between them.

"He will coax you open."

A question lingered on the tip of her tongue. She felt his prodding nudges in her mind and couldn’t contain the full-body quake that overcame her as he rifled through her thoughts.

"The place where your body yields," he answered her unspoken question. "Your most intimate spot." The sheet fluttered and caved inward under his fingertips. His hand was held right between her legs—when had she parted them?

"The King will guide you."

But Luella wanted Bastian’s guidance.

He inhaled sharply, his shadowed hand pulling away from the sheet. "Don’t ask for things you aren’t prepared for."

"But what if… what if I am?" she breathed.

Bastian’s shadow grew still. "If you have to ask, you are not ready."

"I’m not even touching you, yet I feel so guilty—" Her voice faltered, breaking into the softest of whispers. "Is this wrong?"

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