Page 64 of A Dance of Water

"Our deal," Bastian prodded. "I wish to collect." He rubbed his finger absently over her top lip, regarding her with intense interest—and desire.

Her head spun as she tried to find a way out of this.

Another trick? It worked the first time…

He was shaking his head before the plan could fully formulate. "I won’t fall for your trickery again, pet. Fool me once…"

Shame on me,whispered into her mind.

She shuddered from the soft feel of him in her head. She barely felt it this time, which made her wonder…

"I cannot get out of this?" she asked.

"Not this time."

It was so quiet that she could hear the falling snow outside the walls of the castle.

Bastian gently took her wrist—he enveloped her hand entirely—and pulled her to the cushions nestled against the wall. He sat, tugging her down by his side.

Her thigh pressed against his, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, turning her to face him.

It was happening, then. Truly.

Luella could not trick her way out of this.

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and his thumb stroked over the back of her hand.

"You do not need to be afraid," he said. "When have I ever lied to you?"

Anger welled like a tempest inside her. "When have you not? When you failed to tell me we are V-Vincire," she stumbled around the word, not used to it on her lips. Even now, the notion of Vincire was foreign, shrouded in secrecy. She only knew the scant amount of information they deigned to reveal upon her awakening: they werebonded.

Luella could not venture deep into the library for fear of seeing Nyx, and she could not muster up the courage to ask her captors the questions teeming inside her—so she was left in the dark.

"It was for your own good. And I would do it again and again if it meant I could protect you. I am not like the King, Luella. From the start, he wanted to use you to defeat the Tenebrae, but I wanted you because the Fates wove our souls together.The Vincire will be bound, and the Queen will be crowned." Bastian stroked a finger over the soft curve of her cheek, moving his palm to cup her soft skin. "We were promised. You were made for me. I’ve been waiting for you since I was young, and I will wait, still, if that’s what it takes to earn your forgiveness."

His words were awash with gilded niceties, perfectly said to trick a naive heirus such as herself.

Luella thought of everything—anything—to stop herself from remembering what she had seen when she had fallen into her sleep after being pricked by the Tenebrae’s poison.

The vision, the memory, of the five of her Vincire. The stardust that had led her to the past, the little cottage nestled in the dark woods of the Silva Noctis, and everything she had seen there. Young Bastian, not at all like the put-together male before her, with a wrinkled shirt and a snarl etched into his sensual lips. The way the five of them had seemed like brothers, almost. Instead of the strained, begrudging acquaintances they appeared as now.

She thought of everything and nothing;anythingto stop herself from sending her thoughts to him. It was her secret. And she could be afforded those after all the lies they had told her…

Bastian’s lips parted with a question, but she spoke before he could ask whatever it was that made such melancholia rise to the surface of his reddened gaze.

"You’re forgetting the rest of the prophecy.To expel the dark, the shadow’s spark, and defeat the stolen, she must bond with the chosen." She leaned her head into his palm on her cheek; all the while, her mouth spoke words of anger. "That is what I am needed for. A tool and nothing else. Flattery gets you nothing. Especially not the forgiveness you desire."

She was proud of herself for not faltering, but it was a short-lived victory.

"I do not need to prove that my feelings are honest, pet. You will come to realize that I have always fought for you, even when theyhave not." Something flickered over the elegant lines of his face, his jaw hardening. "I believe you owe me a kiss."

Bastian’s fingers tightened on her cheek, and he pulled her face close to his. The tip of his nose brushed against hers, and he murmured, deceptively sweet, "Close your eyes."

Her eyes drifted closed before she could stop herself.

Without sight, her other senses were reaching out to feel and smell.Sense.

Through her gown, the cushion underneath her warmed her thighs. He smelled of spiced bergamot, rich and succulent. His palm was cool against her skin.

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