Page 69 of A Dance of Water

Like a wave of frigid water rushing over her, Luella realized, for what may have been the first time, that the call between them, thethingbetween them, was immutable.

For her to feel such a pull to her enemies, there must be something more at play than them, alone. The Fates. But perhaps…

Playful stardust danced along the edges of her memory, beckoning her.

What if something more than the mere Fates were to blame for them being Vincire?

Vale’s hands curled around her waist, tugging her back againsthis chest. His thighs were hard and warm under her, and his breath fluttered the hair at her nape.

"What thoughts plague you?" The King brushed a hand down her shoulder, skimming along the outside and following the line to her elbow before he swept a finger over the crook of her arm, tracing the faint lines of her veins.

"You," spilled from her lips before she could stop it.

Vale’s hands tightened imperceptibly on her waist—she wanted him to hold her harder.

"You surprise me, Luella."

She wanted to ask how, in what way. How could someone as simple and naive as she surprise an experienced male like the King?

But the chance was robbed from her when her stomach let out a low growl.

He huffed a laugh behind her, chest shaking slightly where she was pressed so close against him.

From the side of the dais, Bastian appeared. He took one look at her nestled upon Vale’s lap and poked his tongue in his cheek, elegant features souring.

"You called," the vampire announced.

Luella’s head turned to regard the pair. "How?"

A red-tinted gaze fell to her lips as Bastian simply said, "Mind magic."

Right.

Did they speak to each other often in the privacy of their minds?

These males—her captors and Vincire—were as enigmatic as the shadows of night, the secrets of the universe. She couldn’t even begin to speculate about everything they were keeping from her, still.

She felt as in the dark as ever, if not more so.

"My Chosen needs some food, and I am a bit occupied." The King rubbed a firm palm over her thigh.

Fangs flashed, Bastian gritting out, "I am not your servant, Vale."

"Careful," said the King. "Remember to whom you speak."

"Apologies." Bastian inclined his head. She would have assumed the act to be in gracious deference, if not for the way his jaw hardened, the glint to his eyes, and the slightest downturned lilt to hissensuous mouth. "My King. I will go fetch you and your Chosen sustenance."

Luella caught Az’s amber eyes where he stood by the steps of the dais, and they both stared after the vampire long after he left.

Contention—the barest hint that rose to the surface on the rarest of occasions.

All the while, her mind worked; how could she use this for her own gain?

The eyes of the revelers burned against her skin. She could feel their hungry stares against her pale arms, the Binding mark on her tattoo the most blatant of brands, and the dragon shifter behind her with a possessive grip on her waist and his serpentine gaze that warned away those who dared to let their eyes linger for too long.

She was athing, no longer a fae, no longer the Princess of Solis.

Captive, Luna fae… and now the Chosen.

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