Cold hands stopped her. Bastian held her wrist delicately, his finger touching the white gold chain of the charm bracelet she wore.
He lowered his voice. "Can I come in?"
"I—" She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, and his eyes dipped. The inside of her thighs was still damp from what Az had done, and tingles erupted between her legs at the mere thought. Bastian’s nostrils flared. "Why?"
The thread between them was crackling with tension, affection—and no ill intentions.
"Can I not simply want to be in your presence, pet?"
Her brows furrowed, and he released her wrist to reach up and smooth the tiny crease away.
It was that soft action, and the quiet in the room—even with the four others watching and listening in on their every breath—that made her relent.
Luella’s fingers loosened on the curtain, but she made sure the sheet was still tucked under her arms. Silently, she stepped aside, just a small bit, but it was enough for the vampire.
As Bastian stepped inside, she saw a flash of horns and tanned skin as Az turned to watch her, a dark, purpling bruise under his eye. The curtains fell shut, and she wondered if it was just a trick of the dimming light.
"Was that?—"
Bastian pressed a finger over her lips. "Do not question it. Some things are better handled between males."
Unbidden, her tongue poked out to wet her lips, catching the pad of his index finger in the process. He groaned, yet pulled his hand away as if it were the most painful thing he had ever done.
"The dress," Bastian prodded, tone like the silken air that filled the room.
He opened the wardrobe, revealing a gorgeous, yet simple, gown hanging within. It was soft blue, with white stitching at the hem. Sleeveless, with a thick collar at the neck that acted as the straps—it reminded her of the gown she had seen the Queen in.
Luella bundled the sheet closer to her body. Bastian’s eyes tracked the movement and traced over where the thin sheet did little to hide her every dip and curve, or the faint rising and falling of her chest as she breathed. Could he see the jumping of her pulse where it fluttered on her stomach?
"I cannot wear this."
Bastian pulled the gown from within. "Why not, pet?"
Tucked under the sheet, her wings fluttered. Was it yearning? Was it preening?
"My wings."
He sighed deeply. "Let us take care of that, pet. Trust us—trust me."
She shook her head slightly, staring at the gown in his hands. "I want to, but we are on the Fallen Isles. What if they h-hurt me?"
His finger tapped under her chin, lifting her face to his. "We have it handled, pet. Wear the dress." He pressed it into her hands, not moving away. His voice dipped to a croon. "Do you need help?"
The fabric was soft in her hands, and she imagined it to be soft on her body. She took a careful step backward, nearly toppling due to her wings. "Just… turn around."
His lips quirked. "As you wish."
The vow from Bastian’s lips sounded pretty. Full of devotion. He turned, facing the wardrobe.
Luella eyed his back as she dropped the sheet, lifting the gown in her hands. The back was entirely open, as she had assumed, making it easy for her to step into. It caught aroundher hips, so she wiggled it up further, holding it over her chest with an arm as she fumbled with the collar.
"Are you sure you don’t need my help?"
Her hands stilled on the collar, glancing to Bastian, who faced away from her still.
The dress covered her, and the air was cool against her bare back and wings. If she dropped it, it would fall. "No. I think I d-do need help," she said, voice soft.
Bastian turned, shoulders tensing as he eyed her. As always, her wings were tucked close against her back.
