Page 52 of A Dance of Water

"One for Mind. One for Body. One for Spirit." Vale’s finger cut down sharply in a line over the three circles, tracing over the shape. "And the binding of these things."

The words were old, and their meaning even older. Only Tharen knew the true meaning of the mark. As Prima, it was his prerogative to understand all manner of magical tattoos and arcane runes.

"That’s what the marks mean?" Luella asked.

Vale nodded, raptly focused on the ink on her skin. His dragon rose to the surface, enchanting him with images: her wrapped in furs, nestled on a dark floor of a warm cave, firelight playing over her skin and warming her toes. He swallowed thickly. A crown of glittering jewels in her white hair, a necklace resting on her elegant collarbones. His tanned hands against her pale, bare thighs.

Vale snapped, reaching up to wrap his hand around her neck.

She gasped. "What are you?—"

The crown of her head brushed his chest, and he had to lean down to rest his chin on top of her head. Smoke wafted from his nostrils, and she only just had the understanding to be alarmed, her blue eyes growing wide the longer Vale stayed silent as he wrangled his beast back under control.

His thumb stroked over her jugular, feeling the healing nick on her skin from Graves’s blade. It had taken everything in him not to snap the male’s neck for daring to press a blade to his Vincire’s skin. Only Vale could hurt her. She was his to maim, his to taunt, his to fuck?—

Godsdammit.

In the mirror, Luella held his eyes captive, and he tapped his index finger over her chest, imagining breaking it open and digging her heart out, seeing if it was as delicate as he imagined it.

"Your heart is glass," Vale murmured.

Those blue eyes of hers slanted. "And your heart is stone."

She breathed in, her chest pressing against his palm. Wind rattled the glass. She breathed out. Sleet pelted the walls of the castle.

Vale’s mouth curved into a prideful half-grin. "I thought youwere too naive to see it, but perhaps there’s hope for you, yet. This heart of stone will be your undoing."

Vale pulled away from her, turning his back on the mirror. He could not stand the truth of its reflection any longer.

He had a Solstice to prepare for.

The King allowed his robe to slip from his shoulders and fall in a heap to the floor. His chest was bare. He wore only thin pants. Lifting a foot, he dipped his toes to test the temperature of the water, finding it warm, nearly scorching.

Perfect.

Vale reached for the laces of his pants and began to untie them. He let his fingers lazily undo the ties, counting his breaths in his head as he waited for Luella to catch up.

The laces slipped through his fingers.

A breath. He unwound them. The waistband grew loose.

Another breath. He began to push them down his hips, revealing the line of hair under his navel.

"Wait!"

A strand of hair fell over his temple as he hung his head, keeping his back to her with his hands paused at his waistband.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was softly astonished.

Knowing he had her full attention, he let his breeches fall to the floor and join his discarded robe. Nude as the day he was born, Vale turned to face her.

Her cheeks were growing alarmingly red, and her mouth popped open before promptly closing.

The King arched a brow. "You’re my servant. Serve me, Chosen."

Her hands tightened into fists.

Vale stepped into the bath, sitting in the hot water with a deep groan. He stretched his arms out across the back of the pool, tipping his head back as he viewed her from upside down. "You’re peculiar when you’re angry. I can’t quite put my finger on it," he teased, "but it’s… frosty." He forced an exaggerated shiver, loving the way the corners of her lips turned down and made her cheeks puff out.

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