Page 57 of A Dance of Water

"You needed to get away," he finally settled on.

"What about the King—" Her chest pulsed with a swift ache. "What about Vale?" She swallowed harshly around his name, unused to the sound of it on her lips. The ache on her chest faded. Even without Vale being around, his claim was still prominent.

"The King said he would leave you alone this first night and let you grow accustomed to everything. Make no mistake." Graves leaned forward. Her breath hitched, but he merely reached for one of the glasses on the small table. It was half-full of ice but held no liquid. He swirled the cup, the ice clinking against the side. Condensation dotted the glass, and he ran his thumb over the beads of water, eyes growing hot. "His kindness will not extend past this first night. There are traditions to uphold."

"Of course," she said weakly. "I would not have expected anything less."

From outside the closed curtain, the crowd roared, joyous calls and gleeful echoes. She wondered what it was that made them give such rapturous sounds.

At least she now knew why the King had allowed her space. Trepidation filled her body, gripping her with fervor. It seemed her reprieve would be short-lived. For tomorrow, the true games would begin.

All she could focus on was the clinking of the ice in his glass.

It was so loud that it drowned out the calls and cheers of the revelers.

Her hands scrunched on the thick skirt of her gown. Graves’s jeweled eyes were unwavering as he watched her—another layer to the tempestuous roiling in her gut.

Luella was all too aware of her skin, the fabric of the gown scratching against it, and the grating noise of the ice in the glass.

He swirled the glass.Clink.

Swirl.Clink.

Her jaw ached from how fiercely she gritted her teeth.

A soft laugh. Deep blue eyes flickering with amusement.

"Are you laughing at me?" she asked, incredulous.

Graves reached his pointer finger into the glass and traced over ashard of ice. "I might be," he hummed. "What are you going to do about it?"

His gravel-like voice scratched against her skin, but this sound was one she did not mind.

"Why do I feel so…" She pressed her palm over her navel, right where that strange feeling welled, thrumming like electricity.

"Hm?"

"Strange," said Luella. "Why do I feel so strange?"

Graves balanced the glass on his knee, reaching for the hand against her stomach. Condensation wet his fingertips, and his hands were chilled from the glass. His face was right before hers when he murmured, "That’s desire, sweetheart." He nipped her ear, and she gasped softly.

"W-what?"

The raven shifter’s breath skimmed over her cheek and ghosted down her neck, leaving a trail of pebbled flesh in his wake. Her body flushed, yet her skin was cold. His icy hand pressed firmer against her lower belly, and her toes curled in her slippers.

"Desire. Lust." His voice rumbled against the side of her neck, making her shiver.

"Oh," she managed, overcome by his proximity, the feel of his warm breaths juxtaposed with the icy chill lingering on his fingers from the cold glass.

"Do you know what to do with it?"

"Do… with it? What do y-you mean?" Luella’s words wavered. Her cheeks were so hot that ice could melt on her face.That didn’t sound like a terrible idea,she mused. The chill of cool cubes of ice against her heated skin to melt away the flushed state that had robbed her of her sensibilities…

Her eyes fell closed under the weight of his stare.

That feeling in her gut grew and grew. Wind whispered in the room, water danced behind her closed lids, turning to snow, which froze and turned to ice.

The phantom wind forced her hair to flutter back from her flushed cheeks. Graves’s nose swept up to her ear, tracing along the shell of it.

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