Page 244 of A Dance of Water

She nearly went cross-eyed from his proximity, the tip of his nose brushing the line of hers, lips skimming the top of her hand, where it stayed between them like a barrier.

The sound of her breaths drowned out all rational thought of why she shouldn’t allow this to carry on with such familiarity, as Tharen whispered against her hand, "I won’t kiss your lips, but let me"—his mouth pressed against her wrist; the stardust drifted away from him, curling around her forearm—"pretend."

Pretend. She always loved to play pretend. A weakness the Prima seemed to prey upon.

She moved her hand just enough to be able to speak clearly. "Just pretend?"

Tharen’s open mouth trailed lower down the soft flesh of her forearm, chasing after the warm stardust. "Just pretend," he affirmed, voice low. "No one has to know."

Unbidden, her eyes trailed to the side, trying to find where Vale watched from the sidelines.

Tharen gripped her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker. "I told you not to think about him right now, little lamb. This is between us."

The stardust twisted up to her neck, warm against her cheeks.

Tharen smiled against the back of her hand. "And the gods." His lips pressed to her flesh, but not kissing, he seemed to be waiting for her command.

Luella swallowed. "How?"

One of his fingers flexed against her core, and she gasped softly asit made sparks of pleasure shoot up her spine. Instead of answering, he showed her.

Tharen kissed her skin. The bruising force of his lips on the back of her hand made her palm press firmer against her mouth.

Her breath was hot against her palm, making it damp with sweat as he claimed her hand with utter savagery.

It was just as she thought it would be.

Too much.

Not enough.

And everything in between.

She told herself this was still pretend—but her body had long since blurred that line.

Tharen’s tongue traced along the faint impression of veins on the bony parts of the back of her hand, his other hand still between her legs.

He blew a hot puff of air against her damp skin.

He wasn’t speaking, and she grew emboldened in this quiet.

Luella pulled her hand away from between them, chin lifting as if daring him to claim her lips in truth. "You’re a liar."

"Of course. But what makes you think that right now, when all you should be thinking about is my hand between your thighs?"

She gave a soft shake of her head, the stone hard against the base of her skull. "There’s n-no pretending. Not with you."

The threads between them sang a song, warped and distorted, but one she was familiar with, nonetheless. Reminiscent of the tune written into the fabric that made up the threads of the bond between her and Az, her and Bastian…

"You care for me," she whispered, placing a shaking hand over her heart, fingertips brushing the delicate chain of the amulet he had gifted her. "I feel it. Right here."

His jaw worked as he stared down at her. "I care for myself. For what I want. And right now, that’s you." Light blue eyes dipped to her chest. "Tomorrow, that could be your heart on my mantel. Don’t get greedy, lamb. You have five of us, bound to be that not all of us are capable of feeling anything more than lust for you. Capable of wanting nothing more than to fuck you."

Luella’s chin quivered. The line of his body over hers was imposing,the weight and unfaltering intensity of his stare… It all told a story forged in blatant dislike, if not hatred. Yet?—

The threads within her told a different tale.

She felt him. His emotions. More than she had ever felt before.

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