The voices were still there, masculine and familiar. She strained to hear the words, but they danced away from her, too low to hear over the ever-present air that filled the open space of this palace… Graves’s?
She wondered.
Mind made up, she tiptoed to the curtains. Ensuring her wings were safely concealed under the sheet, she poked her head around the curtains, the whoosh sound of them opening seeming to echo off the curved stone ceilings.
All eyes turned to her.
Graves stood near a wall, his dark, feathered wings snapping out behind him at the sight of her. Vale and Tharen sat on oneof the cozy lounges, a platter of food before them, resting on a low table. Bastian lay on a chaise lounge, an arm thrown over his head and one leg propped over a knee. His silky black hair shifted as he turned his head toward her, red eyes half-lidded.
Az’s back was to her, sitting the closest to where she poked her head out from behind the curtains. He shifted imperceptibly but did not give her his full face.
Her cheeks heated as they stared. She looked down to ensure her body was hidden.
Tharen was the one to break the silence. "Someone rested well."
"S-sorry," she whispered. "I didn’t mean to interrupt." It was absurd. She was here because of them—shouldn’t she want to be loud and intrude?
Bastian held out a lazy hand. "You’re not interrupting, pet. Did you sleep well?"
She nodded, fingers curling in the sheet. Would now be a bad time to ask where her clothes were?
"You’ve awoken just in time," Vale said. "It’s nearing eve. We were going to have to wake you if you slept any longer. Come here." The King did not hold out a hand, but his beringed fingers grew white-knuckled, where they gripped his thighs.
"I cannot," she replied.
Tharen coughed.
Vale arched a brow. "Why not?"
"I am not… decent," Luella finally revealed.
Tharen coughed…again.
Smoke curled from Vale’s pinched lips, and Bastian released a long sigh.
"Choose your words carefully, pet. They are not in the mood to be tempted by you," Bastian said, and Luella jolted, so used to that sensual croon in her mind that it took her a moment to realize he had spoken aloud.
Oh. They could not possibly know, could they? Tension lined their faces, hanging heavily in the room.
Trust me. They know,said the vampire in her mind.
Her lips parted. Of course, they did. They had known when she had been trapped alone, so why would they not when merely a curtain kept them apart? Could she not ever have something just for herself?
Her flesh prickled beneath the sheet, nipples brushing against it, forcing her to bite her lower lip to stifle a gasp.
"I am not tempting them," she managed, steeling herself; though, she did not feel powerful. Her limbs trembled, and her heart raced. "If they cannot stand this, then perhaps they are not the males I thought them to be."
Az’s shoulders shook slightly. She wished he would turn to look at her. Why was he ignoring her? Was it her? Was it something she did? Had she not been good enough?
Embarrassed and vulnerable, she said, "Since you all know, I just need my clothes. They are gone."
Bastian unfurled from his spot on the lounge, his silken black hair falling over his elegant, dark brows. He wore a dark shirt, fresh and clean, the top laces undone. He walked toward her, and her fingers fisted the curtain tighter, as if the thin mesh could ward him off.
"Hm, pet." His scarlet eyes raked down her frame, and in that moment, she was taken back to another time—another curtain between them. She flushed from head to toe. "We threw your clothes out. They weren’t really yours anyway, were they? The Queen had something sent for you. It’s laid out in the wardrobe."
Luella turned her head, peeking behind her to find a small wardrobe, twin doors crafted of white stone with a little handle in the shape of wings. If she had looked there first, she could have saved herself so much embarrassment.
"Okay, then," she squeaked, turning back to him as she moved to pull the curtain shut between them.
