She needed to sit up, needed to see—she didn’t want to be vulnerable, like prey on her stomach with five predators looming around her in this den of smoke and fire and cool whispers of air.
Bracing her hands under her, her arms shook fiercely as she tried to push herself up. She felt her torn, tattered gown slip down past her hips, the numb tingling of her back making it hard to feel much else save for the faintest tickle of air on her skin.
"Angel, wait a moment." Az stayed her with a hand on her upper thigh, and she shivered but did not relent.
"I want… to sit up," she managed, struggling.
It was Tharen who came to her aid. Carefully, as if afraid she might break—a feeling that was weird coming from him—the mage fit one hand under her leg, the other snaked under her chest to grab at her shoulder, his forearm brushing her bare breasts. A soft sound of surprise escaped her, and she felt her whole body hone in on that faintest brush of feeling.
It made her… remember.
She didn’t want to remember. Not right now.
Not when it was all so fresh and aching.
"Shift your hips," Tharen said, helping her to sit up. She grabbed weakly at the furs with one hand, tugging them up to her chest to conceal her modesty. "Lie back, but not fully."
Luella tried, but it was hard. A strange position she was forced into due to her wings. She couldn’t lie back, but didn’t want to be on her stomach anymore. She looked at Az, teeth digging harshly into her lower lip. Her lashes brushed her cheeks as she stared at her lap, wavering as she held herself as still as possible. "Can you hold me?"
The crackle of the fire seemed to grow, and as she waited, her heart lodged in her dry, aching throat.
"Of course, Lu. Always," Az said gently.
She looked up and met his eyes, a brief moment for just the two of them in the grey of the den. He took her, then, wrapped his arms around the furs and tucked them up to her chest, pulled her onto his lap, sitting sideways, with her feet brushing Tharen’s thighs.
From this position, she could see everyone in the room. She still sat strangely, keeping her side away from the demon. His arm was banded across her nape, instead of her back, as he held her to him. But it was enough—for now. It made her feel small and safe. Just for a moment. It was all she felt she could ask for. The bracelet was still in her palm; she didn’t want to let it go. She tucked it close to her chest and folded her hands under the furs.
She eyed the purple cover of the Compendium. "You’re right. I did know, I guess, in some small piece of my soul, that I could never hide anything from any of you. It wasn’t that—that I thought you put it there, hidden in the library, but I’ve realized that no matter how hard I try, I can never win." She swallowed. "Not against you."
"We do not expect you to," Vale said.
She supposed that was the problem. She had been trying to win against them, and they had been trying to use her, conquer her. They had gotten it all wrong.
"If I cannot win against you—any of you—then perhaps I will just have to join you." Her voice was achingly soft, slightly scared.
Waves of shocked possession filtered down the threads, tangled around them, between them, like the furs around her legs. The strongest was from the dragon shifter, a sparking, ember-like twist of threads burning with covetousness, as if he thought her to be a jewel in his hoard.
"Joining us is not something you can change once it’s done," Bastian said lowly, as if he were trying to talk her out of it.
She knew that, and she knew she had no other choices. "I… understand."
"Do you?" Vale arched a golden brow. "Tell me, Princess Luella, do you understand what standing by our sides would entail for you?" A quiet demand was simmering within his words, barely hidden, and she felt the Binding mark on her chest quiver in anticipation.
She answered him; not because she was forced, but because she wanted them to understand:
"Even the clouds have companions. They don’t drift in the sky alone. One cloud isn’t dangerous by itself, but when combined with a mass of others, only then are they truly a storm… a-a tempest." Her fever made her mind cloud with delirium. Was she even making sense?
Luella recalled the pointed forks converging upon the sea, whipping toward the castle. They didn’t act alone. So neither would she.
"You will never be our equal. Could that be enough for you?" Graves countered, eyes sparkling like dark sapphires.
She toyed with the bracelet under the furs, fingers fiddling with the charms. Ven had padded her way over, tucked into a small ball nestled by Az’s thigh. It seemed she was not the only innocent thing that felt safe in the demon’s presence.
"It will have to be," she revealed, knowing that, perhaps, it would never be. But could anything ever be enough for her? When she had spent her life nestled within the pages of books, living countless lives, while her own was abysmal at best. She yearned for it all, but knew, realistically, she would have none of it.
Air whistled through the den, chilling her slightly, and Az bundled her closer, one hand smoothing over her temples and pressing upon her brow, feeling the flushed heat on her cheeks and forehead.
Her numb back tingled as air passed over her wings. Graves’s eyes tracked the movement of her twitching feathers. His throat worked—her feverish mind clung to the tempting image. The shadow of hair along his jaw was darker, only making him appear more attractive. She had to force herself to look away.
