Page 44 of A Dance of Water

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. She was sitting upright, on her own, but Bastian hovered by her side.

He ignored the bit and went back to stand in front of her. If she wanted to bite down on something, she could use his hand, if she wanted.

Kneeling, he placed his palms on her silk-covered thighs. The gown was sinful, clinging to every curve on her body and leaving nothing to the imagination. His fingertips walked up her thighs and trailed over her waist until he rested them atop her neckline, tugging it down obscenely. The swell of her chest was inviting, and her pale skin was so lush and creamy he wanted to see if she tasted as good as she looked.

"Prima," growled Bastian from where he sat beside the Princess.

Tharen tugged her neckline down further. "Sorry. Got distracted."

"Even after what we’ve done, you still can’t help but think of only her body," the Advisor spat. His pale fingers gripped her shoulder, threatening to pull her away from him.

Tharen stared the vampire down. "Back away, Bastian. As the King said, I must complete the Binding before the moon signals the day’s end." The mage’s lips tipped up into a smirk. Bastian glowered but stood, pacing anxiously as he watched them.

Tharen set about preparing his instruments. He lifted her limp hand from where it rested on her thighs and pricked the tip of her finger, squeezing it and watching a bead of blood well, which he quickly dropped into the vial of ink, shaking it to disperse the droplet of her blood. Then, he handed the vial of ink to Vale, who took it silently, repeating the action with his own finger, mixing a drop of his blood into the ink, as well.

All the while, she stayed silent.

"She’s in shock," Tharen announced as he moved her just the way he wanted, arranging her limbs and forcing her to rest back against the chair.

Vale cleared his throat, smoke wafting from his nostrils. "It was too much for her."

"I went inside her head—I heard her thoughts," Bastian revealed. "She… she thought about not agreeing."

"What the fuck." Graves finally broke his silence, gloved fingers tunneling through his hair. "You cannot be serious. Tell me you aren’t serious."

Bastian was saved from responding by the soft sound of the door opening. Azgorath stepped into the room, and Tharen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Just when he thought he could be free of the demon and his fussing for one evening…

The demon’s amber eyes were sharp as he took in the Princess’s near-comatose state. He took a lumbering step forward, but Tharen nipped whatever oafish, overprotective thing he was going to say right in the bud. "If you cannot shut your fucking mouth and let me work, beast, get out."

Azgorath halted. "I just—" He stared atheras he spoke. "I want to be there for her."

Tharen poked his tongue into his cheek, warning, "Not one word, beast. Do not make me force you to leave."

He nodded, the warm candlelight in the room making his horns cast strange, pointed shadows on his dusky skin.

And the Prima continued with the Binding, but not for one moment did he forget what Bastian had shared before the demon had arrived.

He reached for a bottle of alcohol, uncorking it and taking a deep gulp, before tipping it over a cloth. He intended to clean the skin over her heart before needling the ink onto her, but as he brushed away the silk of her gown, just barely leaving it to cover her nipples, he saw a faint red mark on her chest.

"Oh." He arched a brow, brushing a thumb over it. "And what is this?"

"What?" Vale demanded. "Is she alright?"

The King moved closer, kneeling to see what had snagged Tharen’s attention. His green eyes immediately fell to the red mark of a blood vow on her chest.

"Who?Whodid she make a vow with?" Vale’s voice was molten and laced with violence, a deep rumble starting in his chest. "Was it one of us?"

Tharen looked to Graves. The male did not break his stare, but that didn’t mean anything—he was shifty and well-trained in secret-keeping.

Azgorath remained silent but turned, punching a deep hole into the wall, his fist indenting the stone with ease. The noise was loud and jarring, and the Princess did not even flinch. It was not him, then. The demon was as pissed as the rest of them.

Lastly, the mage watched Bastian. The vampire’s fangs dug into his lower lip, and he was utterly still.

Looks like we have a winner,Tharen mused, projecting his thoughts loudly.

Bastian only gave the slightest of indications that he had heard Tharen’s taunting thought.

Vale followed Tharen’s sights, lip curling as he watched the vampire riddled with clear guilt.

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