Page 68 of A Dance of Water

Az.

Her demon barreled through the dancing bodies, chest heaving as he stopped by Tharen.

She swallowed thickly. He had not forgotten her.

As though he heard her thoughts, meeting her sad, soft eyes, Az breathed out, "Always."

Tharen scoffed. "Enough with this. She’s all yours, Vale. I have some wolves that appear to need more training." With that, the mage turned, a sharp whistle cutting through the air as he called his beasts to heel. They wove throughout the crowd and disappeared. But notbefore the largest of the wolves looked back at her, muscles rippling under its fur coat and eyes gleaming.

Luella shuddered.

"How did you get Dyara’s attention?" Vale inquired.

She stood and ignored his proffered hand, taking the few steps onto the dais before she stopped right by his thighs. Her legs bumped against his knees.

"I don’t know," she said softly, assuming Dyara was the largest wolf.

Vale reached out for her, fingers tangling with her skirts. "You have a way of collecting protective beasts." He stared pointedly at Az, who loomed at her back.

Her breath hitched when his hands skimmed up over her waist, tracing the shape of her. His eyes fell to her lips, then lower to her chest.

Vale touched her collarbone and swept his fingers over the skin of her heart—tracing the three circles of her Binding mark and the naked space by it. "Bastian collected on your deal."

She realized that he was tracing the spot where the blood vow had been on her skin. She had barely noticed when it had disappeared, only the faintest recollection of a fizzling sensation on her chest when Bastian had first pressed his lips to hers.

Vale reached up and traced over her lips, staring at them with rapture. "How did it feel when he put his lips here?" His voice was soft and held a strange gentleness as he stared at her mouth, something just for them amid such overt displays of sensuality—it was almost… sweet.

She was too aware of Az at her back, the deep fondness she felt for him, and how a small part of her yearned to let him taste her of her own volition. "Awful. I never want that again."

Lies, lies, lies.

At least the vampire was not here to rifle through her mind and speak of her deceptions.

"No?" questioned the King. "Not even from your demon?"

She licked her still-swollen lips, unable to respond.

"I’m parched," Vale suddenly announced. He waved a hand, and a servant appeared by the steps of the dais, holding a silver platterwith pitchers of sweet wine, an amber liquid, and empty glasses. The King’s prideful eyes held her own as he said, "Fetch me a drink."

The mark on her chest pulsed with the threat of pain if she dared to disobey. Her feet carried her to the servant, and she lifted an empty glass, noting the few cubes of ice that clinked inside. Her cheeks warmed. She eyed the two pitchers—one with sweet, fruity wine and the other a potent liquor.

Luella poured the liquor into the glass, ignoring the sweet wine; he did not deserve sweet things.

The servant disappeared into the crowd, and she took the glass to the King, feeling the condensation against her palm. It reminded her of…

She stumbled on a step. Az caught her before she could fall. "Okay?"

She nodded, unable to meet the demon’s scrutinizing stare.

Vale took the glass she offered, swirling it. Ice clinked. He took a sip, licking the amber liquor from his lips. Taunting.

"Sit on my lap," he suddenly commanded.

"Must I?" Her chest flared with a sharp wave of pain, and she held her hand against it with a wince.

He arched a brow as if that were answer enough.

Walking closer to him, she bit back a sound of protest when he took her wrist and used it to pull her onto him. Crackling embers warmed against her flushed skin, mingling with the scent of crisp ice that clung to everything in the room. It felt like coming home to a place that was only in her wildest, most foolish dreams, curling up by a fire after being outside in the cold.

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