Page 45 of A Dance of Water

"Gods, remind me to never tell you anything, Bastian. You’re a godsdamned terrible liar," Tharen teased.

Vale stormed forward, only just stopping himself before he crashed into the vampire. "You will tell all of us later," he ordered.

Graves only stared at them all. Tharen wondered if he already knew.

Probably.

"Continue." Vale refocused his attention on Luella.

Tharen swiped the alcohol-covered cloth over her chest, quickly discarding it on the chair and lifting the hollow needle from where it sat beside him. He filled the inside of it with the ink, imbued with her and Vale’s blood.

All that was left was to tattoo her.

Tharen carefully hovered the tip of the needle of her skin right next to that small red mark over her heart. And he began.

He pressed the sharp point of the needle onto her pale, delicate flesh, watching as the simple swirl of the Binding mark came to life on her skin. He drew it with ease. He had been tasked with the Binding for all the Chosen, but none had made his mouth water like this one. Her skin indented under the press of the needle, and her eyes had fluttered shut sometime while they had been talking, herhead lulling onto the back of the chair. Her breath hitched. Not asleep, then. Just drifting.

Tiny little whimpers escaped from her lips with every pass of the needle, and her flesh burned hotter. But the snowflakes on her skin did not melt. Tiny little flakes clung to her lashes and dotted her white hair. A wintry temptress. Made for him.

Tharen could make her melt. Turn that ice into fire.

He wanted to try.

Just as he was starting the final swirl of thin lines on the outermost part of the tattoo, her blue eyes fluttered open.

"What?" she asked, limbs beginning to fidget slightly.

That wouldn’t do.

"Graves," Tharen called, intently focused on the tattoo lest he make a mistake.

The male silently sat at her side, pinning her arms down and forcing her to still.

Her breaths grew more rapid, every little inhale made her chest press into the sharp point of the needle, causing a wince to fall from her lips.

"Almost done," Tharen said. "Do not move."

As he began to pull the needle away, he pressed his other hand over the design, allowing his Spirit magic to flow freely, pulling on the essence of her and Vale that had been imbued into the ink with their blood. A heaviness settled over the room from the pressing force of his magic.

He fused their blood into one and forced it to meld into the ink on her skin, sink deeper into her flesh, and flow throughout her veins. Her back nearly bowed from the intensity of it all, and Graves pressed her further back into the chair, almost sitting on top of her to keep her still.

The Prima’s power thrummed, and finally, it was done. His palm fell away from her chest, and he pulled the needle back, seeing her pale flesh reddened and raised slightly around the tattoo. It was smaller, the size of his palm, but intricately woven, every mark carefully thought out and designed.

"The Binding is complete," the Prima announced, standing.

The little lamb groaned, a weak hand fluttering to her chest,which Graves quickly pulled away before she could touch her tender skin.

"I don’t—" she started, voice thin. "I don’t feel well…" Her blinks grew sluggish, her head tipped to the side, and her limbs relaxed.

Lazy, pained blue eyes held his own before she could no longer stay awake, and her lids did not reopen.

Tharen felt an overwhelming sense of twisted triumph at being the last thing she saw before slipping off into unawareness.

15

THE CHOSEN

LUELLA

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