Luella shifted on the ground. She lay cradled in Graves’s arms. This was her first hallucination of him, and she relished the feel of his arms around her. He had neither his wings nor his amulet. She brushed the observation away.
"I don’t want to talk about this," she managed softly, afraid to anger him.
Graves’s hand slid down her spine to her hip. "We will not, then, but you can’t force it away forever. You will have to choose eventually."
"I know," she whispered against his chest.
He held her until she fell back asleep.
Her bond sickness pressed into her, growing worse. Even Caliban grew to be concerned. He gripped the bars, staring down at her while his shadows curled around his hands.
"You need a healer," Caliban said, as though her illness were her fault.
Luella coughed. "What do you expect when you keep me here in such vile conditions?"
"I expect it to be a good incentive. All you have to do is give in, Luella, and this will go away."
The words were so much like what Az, Bastian, and Graves had said to her, she panicked and froze.
Caliban smiled faintly, as if he sensed her fear. "Sleep well, Luella. I’ll have the healers come to you soon—after."
After what?Luella wanted to ask, but she was so tired she fell back into dreamful bursts and illusory touches.
She woke up to a body on top of her. She couldn’t move her hands. They were trapped above her—her right wrist was being held carefully in an ice-like grip.
Stubble scratched her neck as Graves whispered, "Luella, you smell so sweet." His hand traveled down her stomach, gripping her waist.
She sighed. It was neither a pleased sound nor a protest; it merelywas. As if she could no longer fight him off.
"The sound of your sighs makes me weak. Just let me touch you. Don’t move. Lay there. I can make you feel so good, I swear it to you—and when you awaken, please, I beg you"—Graves’s face moved until it was right before hers, his hands still on her, holding her still—"give in."
"I’m tired, Graves," Luella said softly between them. "I do not even know if I have what it takes to give in. It is so much easier to just lie here." A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
Graves pressed his lips to hers. "I’ve never asked for much from you—for anything, truly. And yet you still won’t do this one thing for me? How could you be so selfish?"
And just like that, he was callous.
"Don’t—" she sobbed, wishing he’d return to his praising, soft tone.
Graves gripped her jaw and forced her head away from where she’d tucked it into his chest. "Don’t fucking hide from me, Luella. Face me—face this. Give in."
There was a whisper-soft touch between her thighs over her shift. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting it.
"What will it take? If I touch you here, will you grow sweet for me, will you be pliant?"
She hadn’t lied to him: she wassotired.
So desperate for any bit of affection she could find. Physical touch was something that had been held away from her for her entire life. She hadn’t even known she was starved for it until she met them, until Az had awoken her in the dungeons of Serpentis with a tickle against her nose. From that point on, he always heldher hands through the bars. She had grown to love touch, being touched. Fingers locked with hers, kisses on her brow, her lips.
Without it, Luella was so cold. She was unsure if that was the bond sickness or herself.
Graves’s hands were too firm, but she could forgive his ire if he only kept touching her.
Her nipples rubbed against her shift, and his chest pressed down against hers. It was reminiscent of their few instances of intimacy—but he’d always shoved her away before he could become too rough. Maybe thiswasreal. Maybe this was truly Graves, and he was tired like she was, unable to temper the weight of his desire any longer.
Luella stared up at him. "You’re real, aren’t you?"
His forehead fell to hers. "Ofcourse, I’m real." Fingers grazed her thigh as her shift was moved higher. It was cold as his fingers brushed upward, skimming the spot where her thighs met her hips.
