GOLDEN BALM
LUELLA
Curled among the dragon’s hoard and the firelight, Luella lay, vulnerable, on her stomach, face hot with fever and back aching, as five males discussed around her,abouther. It burned through her blood, but she was too tired, too in pain, to speak up.
Tharen had soothed a sticky salve under the bandages, and it made her skin all tingly and numb.
The heat from the fire licked against her skin, almost stifling with the fever ravaging her bloodstream. Vale had said it was loosening her tongue, and he was right. She felt the lightness in her head, a surreal fuzziness that made her want to divulge every small thing that plagued her.
Except…
The thing that hurt her the most felt like small shards of ice burrowing under her skin, cutting into her lungs with every painful inhale, leaving dots of blood misting the air as she exhaled. Ithurt. It hurt so bad she wondered if she would ever heal from it. Could she?
Could she heal from the lies that had been fed to her for years?
All she had ever known was lies, and she wondered if that was all she would ever know in time to come. Had she been corrupted—messed up too much to be saved? Was that why she felt such familiarity with the males around her? They lied to her, too. Maybe that comfort in lies was what she would always seek out. They gave her what she didn’t know she always had, didn’t know she might always need, and because of that, she felt herself unwillingly turning to them. For direction. For comfort in discomfort.
She was… the Princess of Luna. And she always had been, and she was spiraling again, and it hurt. Her stomach felt like a lead pit, heavy and sinking. Her heart kicked up in her chest, making her palms clammy, her throat tightening with fear and anxiety.
Something cut into her palm; unfurling her fingers, she found the bracelet pooled within. She had nearly forgotten about it. The firelight and golden gleam of the King’s hoard made the jeweled charms sparkle.
Their voices washed over her. Talking of her. Her body. Like it was theirs to do with as they pleased.
The only ones who did not offer much to the discussion were Az and, surprisingly, Graves. He had been sostrangeas of late. Her feverish mind struggled to understand why, but she had the feeling there was something bigger she was supposed to be remembering.
Bastian spoke for her, as if he had appointed himself asheradvisor. It made her heart clench.
"She can do whatever she desires," Bastian said. "We will not force her. Don’t forget our inability to kill each other, because I never have. That does not mean I will not move the Above and Below to keep her from you, if that is what it takes."
Her drowsy mind forgot that she had barred him from her head as she sent a soft,thank you, and hoped he heard it.
"You truly think so little of me? This has already been discussed. I thought my intentions were clear—I will never force her, and if I ever find out any of you have, I will kill you," Vale declared. "Damn the curse, and damn our tie to her."
"After her—her wings," Tharen added, voice gruff as he sat by her side on Vale’s furs, "the whole mountain shook. After Graves teased her, she froze his glass. If we try to sate her to keep her pliant, she could kill us. That’s not even considering the fact that we might not be able to go back to the castle. There may not be a castle to go back to. We’ll have to hide. Maybe even leave Serpentis." The last part was said with clear reluctance. Luella found Tharen’s eyes, seeing shielded emotions held within.
What was he thinking? Did he know something?
"How can we hide her if she brings storms and chaos wherever she goes?" Graves pondered.
"The quakes in the Temples could’ve been because of the glamor being removed. I feel it—something is different with her power now." Tharen stilled briefly, eyes falling to her back. "Don’t tell me you all don’t feel it, too, because I know you do. She feels more… I don’t know. I can’t explain it."
Az was still touching her ankle, each soothing brush making her lids flutter. "You’re right. I feel it." He didn’t speak around her, but met her eyes and spoke to her directly, "Lu, you feelmore. More everything. But if you do not want this, if you want me to help find another way, I will. Say the word, angel." Every time he called her that, in that low, grumbling voice laced with soft adoration, she felt wholly aware of the wings at her back.
She didn’t know what to say, so she told him. "I don’t know, Az."
She didn’t feel such anger at the thought of being with him—never him—just shy curiosity. Even Bastian and Graves made her stomach feel fluttery.
Tharen and Vale… they were another story, entirely.
She didn’t want to say it. Fear of what they would think, shame that had been taught to her from her youth. So, she thought it.
"Bastian?" Her fingers curled around the bracelet, her cheek brushing the softness of the furs under her as she turned her head, searching out the vampire. "Look in my mind?" It was a hesitant question, a plea.
His eyes were red, almost glowing, as they consumed her.
She felt the brush of him as he went inside her. Soft and cool, like whispers of air as he settled inside her and sifted through the thoughts she wanted him to know.
His eyes seemed to deepen, if it were at all possible, and he pulled away, but not without leaving her with a soft purr drifting throughout her feverish mind:
