Page 66 of A Dance of Water

A gasp left her. "B-Bastian."

He finally met her gaze, pained and stricken with unadulterated want.

Somewhere beyond the curtain that kept them tucked in privacy, the revelers cheered and gasped, and outside the stone walls of the castle, sleet fell hard and fast.

Her breaths were shaky, and sweat dotted her brow. She wassohot.

Luella could only stare up at the vampire, and he stared down at her with equal parts fear and fascination.

"I cannot do this. Fuck!" Bastian swore. Casting one last glance at her, he pointed at the cushion she was curled upon. "Stay there. I’ll send one of the others. I cannot be around you right now." The ends of his words grew garbled, and she saw his fangs dig into his bottom lip.

The tiniest bead of red blood dripped onto his chin, and he left it there to mar his pale skin as he parted the curtains. Icy light filteredin, blinding her momentarily, and Bastian left, the curtains falling back to keep her in the shadowed dark.

20

BITTER BERRIES

LUELLA

Tharen entered the alcove with a spring to his step.

Casting a long, hard look over her body—Luella had made herself decent in the short amount of time it had taken the mage to arrive—he shook his head, white braids falling around his shoulders. The tattoos on his neck were thick and dark, and she pressed a soft touch against her own tattoo. She never knew she would be forced to have ink on her skin.

The mage’s tattoos were not a style she liked, but the ink decorating Bastian’s skin… that was something she could have wanted for herself, perhaps, if given the choice.

"You and small, dark spaces make for trouble, lamb," Tharen intoned. "Good thing that kind of trouble is my favorite." He loomed over her. The tips of his dirtied boots brushed against her delicate slippers.

Her neck ached as she stared up at him. He was so large that his frame cut out the scant light filtering in through the cracked curtains.

Words escaped her.

A tanned, scarred finger rubbed over her lower lip, and she felt her mouth drift open slightly under his touch. "It’s so obvious what you’ve been doing in here. Your rouge is a mess." Tharen leaned down over her, bracing a hand on the wall behind her, caging her in—she was at eye level with his thick, muscular thighs. "When Ipassed Bastian in the corridor, he had more red on his lips than you do. Care to share?"

"N-no," Luella stuttered.

"N-no," Tharen mocked her, and she scowled up at him. What was it about the Prima that turned her into a simpering, stuttering fool? "As much as I would love to stand here and stare at how fucking wrecked you look, Vale has requested your presence."

She gave a soft nod. Better not to keep the King waiting for long.

Luella stood, eyes trained on the mage before her, not breaking away from his stare for a moment. With her forced between his imposing body and the cushions behind her, her head brushed his chest, and her back arched slightly to accommodate the position.

Icy eyes fell from her swollen lips to her still-heaving chest. "Did he give you pleasure?"

"What—"

Tharen took a moment to regard her before saying, "If you have to think about it, he didn’t. I don’t know if he’s a godsdamned idiot or the most disciplined male in all the realms…"

"I don’t want to talk about this with you," uttered Luella.

"I’ll ask Bastian." Tharen surged forward and grabbed her shoulders before she could move away. His grip was punishing, and she winced. "If he hasn’t brought you pleasure, then you must be feeling a little… wound up, no?"

"I— No," she asserted. This topic of conversation was not good for her flushed state. "Vale is waiting." She ducked under his arm and stood by the curtains. This time, she waited for him.

Tharen gave a sound of annoyed amusement, waving his hand with a mock flourish. "After you, then."

She bit her already abused lip, parting the curtains fully. She took a step away from what was on the other side, her back bumping into Tharen’s chest.

Skin. Sinful and plentiful.

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