Page 55 of A Dance of Water

She took another sip ofher wine.

"Is it good?" Bastian asked.

"It’s sweet. Fruity," she remarked softly.

"As sweet as forgiveness?"

Luella set her drink on the table. She crossed her legs, toes scrunching in her blue slippers as she held back a wince. The glass from the broken vial had cut her heels, and she was not afforded a bandage, only the thin slippers that rubbed against her wounds; she was grateful to be off her feet.

"No wine is that sweet," she said.

"I can think of something sweeter." Tharen suddenly shifted closer to her, making her dip to the side. She braced a hand under her to stop herself from tumbling into his lap. The mage mumbled around his cigar, "You."

Affronted, she pulled back, only to have her other side caged in by Bastian.

"I am not s-sweet." Her words turned to a stutter when Tharen pressed his palm against her cheek, lifting her face to his. His eyes matched the room, and swirls of blue fell from the chandelier, making his white hair look to be dusted with snow. "Not anymore… Maybe I was once."

"I bet I could make you sweet," Tharen said.

"I will never be sweet for you. You’ve turned me bitter." Luella made her voice firm to convey her anger. From across his shoulder, she saw the revelers, a few suddenly pointing up toward the skylight—which had been fixed after the Choosing ceremony—and gasping with awe. She craned her head to see what all the fuss was about, but Bastian gripped her nape and forced her to still. "What are they looking at?"

Tharen hummed, eyes glinting. "Your skin is like ice."

Was he trying to distract her?

"Well, I don’t feel cold." She shrugged his hand off.

"Do I make you feel hot, lamb?" Tharen grinned around the tip of his cigar.

"Certainly not!" she declared, all while trying not to flush from his proximity, from the scent of freshly fallen snow that melted against her hot skin.

She felt Bastian’s answering laugh from how closely he was pressed to her side.

Tharen pulled the cigar away from his mouth and held it out to her, pressing the saliva-slick tip against her bottom lip. Her lips pinched close together, not allowing him entry.

Bastian tutted under his breath and reached around her to press his thumb firmly to her lower lip, forcing it out from where it was caught between her teeth. "Open for him, pet."

Luella’s lips popped open, and she watched, enraptured and nearly going cross-eyed as Tharen fit the end of the cigar between her lips.

"Now close," Bastian murmured.

Her mouth closed around the cigar. It was bitter but tasted slightly of berries and musk—she wondered if that was Tharen she was tasting.

Tharen met Bastian’s eyes over her shoulder. "She can be sweet when she wants to be." He leaned down and put his face right before hers. "Inhale."

She thought Vale was the one who held her will in his grip. So why was she so desperate to obey the orders of these two males?

Because you want to please us as much as we want to please you.Bastian’s voice was a sultry murmur.

You want to please me? You go about it in strange ways,she replied, taking a soft inhale of the cigar.

And immediately choked on the cloying smoke that filled her mouth.

Luella coughed roughly, lips pursing as she nearly spat out the cigar. Tharen held the end between his pointer finger and thumb, forcing her to keep it in her mouth. Only when she took a full inhale, lungs full of thick, heady smoke, did he release it and tug it away from her lips. A string of her saliva connected the end to her mouth.

"Blow," the mage ordered with a half-grin—his tone spoke of dirty, sinful acts.

Her lips parted as she blew out the smoke, a tiny puff of air that turned to a pretty, lavender-tinted smoke ring before her face,clouding the air between them and turning the trio into a sultry, smoky visage.

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