13. Cream （Indulgence）
13
CREAM (INDULGENCE)
L uella woke to a tremble in her fingers and a shiver on her skin.
Bleary, she opened her eyes, head pounding and body sore. Her nose felt stuffy.
Az had been right , she thought tiredly. I am sick.
Not surprising, with the conditions in the dungeons. The air was as frigid as standing on the high peak of a snow-tipped mountain, and the drip of water falling from the ceiling often soaked her to the bone as she slept. The ground was hard, and the food was old and stale and lacked the rich vitamins a fae needed—let alone someone as large and muscular as a demon.
The dungeons were crafted to kill slowly. A slow death, but an end, all the same.
Luella sat up, anchoring a hand on the frozen, hard ground below. White puffs of air wafted from her mouth as she breathed.
"Angel?"
She perked up slightly, looking to the cell beside hers to see Az already watching. His dark brow was lowered, shaggy brown hair tousled like he had been running his fingers through it, horns curving from his head menacingly.
Az dragged a hand down his face, haggard. "You’re awake."
She nodded dully, clearing her throat before speaking. "Did I sleep for long?"
"Longer than normal," Az remarked. "I’ve been…worried. About to rattle the bars to get those fuckers’ attention to send a healer down here."
She hadn’t heard him curse much. The first time had been when she had awoken from her dream with Bastian. Az must have truly been concerned.
"No." She rubbed her arms with her palms to warm herself up. She would live. Perhaps. "No need for that. Just a common sickness. Fae are weaker. I’m used to it. I fell ill often at…home," she trailed off.
Luella scooted forward, leaning against the bars, and Az fit a hand through seamlessly, grabbing her shoulder and gripping it tightly. His touch was a comfort. She sighed, head tipping back against the cold iron and eyes shuttering closed.
"I’m so t-thirsty," she mumbled while a sharp shiver wracked through her.
"They didn’t bring anything while you were asleep, but it shouldn’t be too long now. They better be thankful I’m locked up, or I’d kill them for leaving you like this. For allowing you to be treated like this."
She held his hand to her shoulder, rubbing her thumb against it. "Thank you for taking care of me, Az," she whispered.
"Always."
The guards still had not brought food.
Luella grew weary.
She rested the whole day—or night, she wasn’t sure.
Just when she felt like giving up and falling asleep, even if she couldn’t be certain she would awaken, she heard footsteps echo in the hall.
"Someone’s coming!" She heard Az’s harsh whisper.
Luella jerked up, desperation for sustenance clawing at her empty stomach and giving her a small zap of energy. The blanket fell off of her in her haste to hurry to the bars facing the shadowed halls. She gripped the bars fiercely, eyes straining in the darkness beyond to see who, or what, was coming.
"Back up, Lu," Az ordered her.
"No." She pouted. If she were a wolf, she imagined her tail would be wagging at the prospect of food being brought to her. Maybe that was the King’s aim, to condition her to the sound of footsteps and turn her into a pliant prisoner.
The footsteps grew closer, and she grew angry at the sight that rounded the corner, emerging from the shadows like the skilled dream thief she knew him to be.
Bastian.
He was dressed differently than she had seen him before. More casual. The vampire wore a dark cloak, unclasped, and sturdy boots were on his feet. His pants were simple leather, and his shirt was a maroon cotton blend. His black hair was unbound, falling over his forehead and against his nape like silk. The top strands were a bit ruffled as though he had been in a rush. In one hand, he held a rather large basket.
"Glad to see me?" The vampire lifted the basket with a half-smirk, unlocking the door of Luella’s cell, entering and shutting it behind him just as quickly. He cast a curious glance at Az, an elegant brow arching. "And you, beast? Fancy seeing you here."
Az growled, hands rattling the bars of the cage, and he stretched a tanned arm through, fingers curling around thin air in his desperation to reach the vampire. "Stay away from her," he seethed.
"Oh, I don’t think that I will. I applaud you for your effort, though." Bastian looked to Az, then to where Luella was crouched on the ground. "Interesting."
Luella backed up, knees drawing to her chest as she moved closer to Az’s side of the cell.
"None of that, pet." Bastian tsked. "I told you I would take care of you, did I not? This is me fulfilling that promise. I’m sorry it took me so long to come to you. I was indisposed… But I will not let the King neglect you any longer, you have my word."
The vampire took to a knee, placing the basket on the ground before her and opening it. He gave her a wink as he pulled out a thick, fluffy pastry. A juicy strawberry rested on top of the custard icing, and the edges were browned and crisp. The middle looked slightly doughy, just as she liked it.
"For you," Bastian offered. "A strawberry tart with cream."
Az growled from beside her, angrily spitting out, "You’re not funny."
"Oh, I’m hilarious."
Luella was confused by their banter, but her grumbling stomach had other plans. Her mouth watered, and her focus was solely on the pastry held in Bastian’s pale, slender hand.
But she did not reach for it, too afraid to be fooled by this creature. To fall prey to his trap.
He rolled his eyes, forcibly lifting one of her hands and placing the tart into her palm. Az growled in warning.
"I don’t bite. Unless you ask, of course." A white fang poked his plush lower lip.
She hesitantly lifted the edge of the tart to her mouth, but the strawberry threatened to topple off, so she plucked it off the top, the cream still stuck to the bottom. She lifted it to her lips and gave it a soft taste. Thick, decadent cream melted on her tongue. She moaned at the rush of sugar against her tastebuds.
"Gods," Bastian muttered. "How do you handle it?" He seemed to direct the question to Az, who merely shot the vampire a violent look.
She broke off the edge of the tart, crumbs sticking to her sticky, juice-coated fingers. Watching Bastian out of the corner of her eye, Luella offered the piece to Az through the bars.
"For me?" The demon quirked a thick, dark eyebrow, and she silently waited for him to take it from her.
Luella couldn’t stand him being hungry too; though, she knew the demon could withstand a lot more than she could. He could go without water and food for far longer, but sugary food was a weakness to many, and she wouldn’t indulge and fill her empty stomach while he watched on.
One of Az’s hands snaked up to quickly grip her wrist, and he lifted her tart-laden hand toward his mouth, tearing a bite off. He hummed in appreciation, eyes closed as he chewed. He kept her wrist tightly in his grasp. Warm puffs of air tickled over her fingertips from how close her hand was to his mouth, and her breath hitched.
Rustling in the background distracted her from Az’s lips closing around the last bite of the tart, and she turned, watching as Bastian lifted a jar of dark liquid from inside the basket. He uncorked the lid with a loud pop , lifting a small glass to decant it. Hand raising high above to allow the liquid to trickle into the glass, a steady stream of sweetly-smelling juice trickled into the glass. She felt a wave of thirst come over her again and tugged her arm from Az, walking on her knees closer to the vampire.
He lifted the glass of juice, eyes half-lidded and so charged with heat that her throat felt dry from more than just thirst. If it weren’t for the intense need to wet her parched throat, she would feel embarrassed to be so… affected by this vampire. At least with the thirst, she had an excuse for why her mouth was dry, why her hands were clammy with nerves and thighs clenching as she sat, waiting for him to offer the glass to her.
Luella tried to take it from him, but he knocked her hands away, placing his free hand on her chin. The vampire tilted her head back. It made her vulnerable, and she struggled to swallow the saliva that pooled in her mouth from the position she was forced into.
Bastian tutted under his breath and lifted the glass to her lips. "Open up, pet." His voice rumbled, head lowering to be closer to her.
She shivered under the intensity laced in the words but obeyed, mouth parting, awaiting him. He tilted the glass, and cool, sweet juice slid into her mouth. It was pleasant, refreshing, and almost sickly sweet after her usual fare of water and stale bread. She tried to close her mouth against the overloading sweetness, but he wouldn’t allow it, tipping the rest of the glass back quickly. Luella had no choice but to swallow it all. The last trickle slid down the side of the glass, flowing into her awaiting mouth, and he released her then, giving her a quick once-over with a heated expression.
Juice dribbled from the corner of her mouth, and her tongue poked out to catch it. But she must not have caught it all. Bastian’s thumb quickly swiped it away, collecting the rest. The liquid beaded on his pale finger; the dark plum color was a sharp contrast against his pale-as-snow skin. He held her gaze as he lifted his thumb to his mouth and sucked the juice off.
Luella parted her lips slightly, shocked and… flushed. She quickly broke his gaze, unable to hold it for long. She didn’t know anything about these types of things. She felt in over her head and totally out of her element. Naive and mere prey.
Az was still watching her, white-knuckling the bars and wearing a volatile scowl. Luella was glad for the iron bars keeping them separated—couldn’t imagine the savagery that would be incited if they got their hands on each other. Tension was in the air, so thick it choked her.
"Thank you," she mumbled, breaking up the feverish mood that had descended upon them.
At her words, Bastian patted a hand against her bare knee before touching a finger to his temple. He closed his eyes in concentration.
It was a motion Luella had seen before, she realized. On the journey to Serpentis, Tharen and Graves had both done something similar. At the time, she had thought they were communicating by way of a spell or enchantment, but now she realized they were linking thoughts with the help of Bastian. With his Mind magic, Bastian could persuade and steal into minds and also send and receive thoughts. It made for a quick means of communication, especially over long distances.
The vampire must be so powerful to keep up with it for so long… Considerable power, just like the amount flowing through Tharen’s veins. And Luella knew Graves was the same, though she was not sure of his magic and skill, it was a given, considering his close association with the King.
Dragons loved to hoard, and what better hoard than an inner circle with unimaginable power?
Bastian opened his eyes, and she noted the red in his gaze was more pronounced. Wariness settled over her.
"You look pale," Bastian commented, eyes tracking over her face. "Have you fallen ill?"
"W-what do you expect?" Luella couldn’t help but reply. "This place is uninhabitable… And fae aren’t as invulnerable as the rest."
She wondered if it was even possible, but Bastian wore an expression of remorse at her words.
Just when she felt some strange desire to comfort the vampire, faint footsteps and the soft swish of fabric marked the arrival of another.
Graves floated down the hall like a specter, emerging from the shadows. He blended in with the darkness almost too perfectly with his cloak and cowl.
He was covered like usual; Luella had only seen him uncovered just once, and she didn’t think she would ever forget the rugged allure hidden underneath. The scar marring his face did nothing to detract from his chilling looks. If anything, it made him more appealing. Dangerous, but in an attractive way, luring you in and scaring you away at the same time.
He opened the door of the cell quietly like the old iron bars were afraid of making too much noise and disturbing the aura of silence that followed the male. Even inanimate objects bent to his will.
Graves soundlessly sat a metal bucket on the stone ground. Water splashed over the top and landed on her ruined gown. It was cold, and she hissed through her teeth at the chill.
He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her with those startling eyes.
Bastian dipped a finger into the water, swirling it around like he was testing the temperature. "Godsdamn you," he sighed. "Are you trying to make her even more sick? This is freezing." He lifted a dark cloth from his basket, flinging it at Graves. "Go get Tharen to fix your mistake."
The male rolled his eyes, a quick flash under his hood, and then he was gone, turning quickly and leaving the same way he came—silently.
Luella sat back on her haunches as she waited. Bastian grew quiet, and she suspected it was a rarity for the vampire from the way his tongue poked in his cheek every so often, sensual lips parting like he wished to speak, then promptly closing.
Through the bars, Az fiddled with the ends of her hair behind her, sullen and silent. If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume the demon was jealous.
No, that was absurd , she thought, shaking her head.
Footsteps echoed in the darkened halls, and two figures emerged: Tharen, with Graves silently following. The Prima brought an air of lunacy wherever he went. He wasn’t quite there , she remembered Graves warning her. She could see it in the way his jaw ticked in a constant state of anger, hands always fisting around nothing in overt rage. His icy eyes were empty like all the brightness of a normal blue had been leeched from them, along with every positive emotion, leaving nothing but the mere crystalline impression of the color.
The rigidness of the cell bars pressed against her spine as she moved back, closer to Az, and the demon settled a large hand on her shoulder with protective intent.
Tharen wordlessly bent down, hands cupping the sides of the pail of water. The metal grew red as he heated it with his palms, the top bubbling and popping under the temperature.
The mage met her eyes, jaw hard and unforgiving. The boiling water sizzled, and he removed his palms. Red handprints were left on the side of the bucket.
Settling back against the wall, Tharen rested with one leg outstretched and the other bent. Graves stood beside him, peering down his covered nose at her. She wilted under the force of their joint gazes, expressions of pure hatred. Like she was the one in the wrong, even though they took her prisoner.
Bastian sighed, holding out both hands as Graves threw the cloth at him. The vampire dipped it in the water, ringing it out over the top to get rid of the excess. Dripping against the surface, it reminded her of the water that fell from the ceiling of her cell at night, an accompanying tune to the lullabies Az hummed.
Fatigue gripped her. She simply wanted to sleep.
"Turn around," Bastian instructed.
All traces of fight had long since left her, and she obeyed, turning to face Graves and Tharen as she gave Bastian her back. The chill made her nipples pebble, brushing against the thin scrap of her gown. She settled her arms over her chest, covering herself.
The cloth was warm as it dragged against the dirty skin of her nearly exposed back—the material was in tatters; it was a wonder to her it hadn’t fallen apart by now. Luella sighed, head falling forward and eyes fluttering shut. She had worried the temperature would be too hot, but it was perfect. Warm and soothing, making her far too pliant around the predators surrounding her. On the heels of a satisfied exhale, her shoulders slumped.
Bastian was quiet as he cleaned her, voice a sensual mumble as he instructed her to turn back to face him. Cloth-covered hands skimmed the skin revealed by the lines of her torn gown but never dipped beyond the hem. Tender motions as the cloth trailed along her arms, moving to her palms… Rubbing circles over her upper thighs, along the expanse of her bruised legs, and down to the soles of her feet. The rough pads of his fingertips bit into her calves as he turned her ankle, swiping the cloth against the top of her foot.
The lulling sound of water trickled into the bucket as he kept wringing out the cloth and rewetting it, making her even more lethargic.
It all passed far too quickly for her liking.
Luella sighed; she could drift off to sleep right here.
"All done," Bastian mumbled, resting the cloth over the edge of the pail. He cleared his throat as he settled a hand on her now clean chest. "Lean back. I’ll wash your hair."
He pressed her back, and the nape of her neck cut into the lip of the pail. A hand rested on the small of her back to keep her steady, and her chest rose and fell with even, soft breaths, pushing against the fabric of her gown obscenely from how she was reclined.
"Close your eyes," Bastian muttered.
She did, not even thinking of how vulnerable this moment was. Wholly exposed to the scrutiny of these males. Even Az, with his blood vow to her, unsettled her at times with his heavy gazes and lingering touches. At this moment, in a haze of dripping water and soothing touches, murmured words of praise, and calming strokes against her skin, she was perfectly at ease.
A quiet pop made her flinch, but the hand on her back flexed, fingers digging into her spine, stilling her. Something wet and cold fell against her crown, and Bastian’s lithe fingers massaged it into her hair. Lavender-scented soap filled her senses, mingling with the scents of the males around her, a heady combination that made her already weary bones even weaker.
A quiet moan fell from her lips at the feel of his fingernails against her scalp.
"Feel good, pet?" The grip tightened on her lower back, and she tilted her head further in invitation, her neck bared.
Luella refused to give him an answer. She would not let him have any more control over her. With his practiced touches and murmured words, she felt unable to stop herself from sinking into him. But she would not allow herself to be lulled into a sense of false security, merely revel in this quiet moment. A hoax. Before leaving him bereft. No matter how gentle his touches, the vampire was one of her captors, a perpetrator of her kingdom’s ruin, and she would vow to never bend to his will.
No matter how tempting he appeared.
She blamed her subdued state on her illness, refusing to attribute it to his enticing aura and how her body seemed to respond to him—to all of them.
Warm water cascaded over her scalp, rinsing the remnants of soap and dirt away. He urged her to sit up, keeping a palm firmly on her waist. Gentle fingers carded through the strands of her wet hair, and he gathered the ends of it up, wringing it out over the bucket before smoothing out her damp, golden curls.
"There. Now for your clothes." He lifted a bundle of folded clothing from his basket and pressed it into her hands.
Before she could voice her concerns about undressing in front of them, Az spoke up for her.
"Fuck no," the demon growled. The iron bars rattled as he shook them in fury. "She’s not changing in front of you three."
"But it’s okay if she changes in front of you?" Graves grumbled. Luella had thought he had fallen asleep. He had been so quiet this whole time, and she couldn’t even see his eyes from where his head was tipped back against the wall.
"You want us to close our eyes?" Tharen scoffed. He made it sound like a joke, but she jumped on it, eager to change. She didn’t even care about disrobing in front of them, so desperate to remove her stained and dirtied gown and don something new, even if it was borrowed from one of her captors.
"That’s fine," Luella squeaked, taking the bundle of clothes from Bastian.
With the fog of illness clouding her sleepy brain, she forgot all about propriety.
Tharen appeared startled, and she had the feeling the mage wasn’t the type to be easily surprised. He brushed a braid back over his shoulder, gesturing with a hand. "Well, then, go right ahead, Princess." He placed a palm over his eyes, getting comfy against the wall.
"Keep them closed," Az demanded, and then pointed a finger at both Graves and Bastian.
Bastian rolled his eyes but complied. He did not place a hand over his eyes, but he did close them. She tried not to think about how easy it would be for him to open and look at her.
Maybe this hadn’t been the best option.
Graves did not move, and she held the bundle of clothes close to her chest, waiting for him to comply. Her damp hair stuck to her nape, and the fabric of her gown was wet from the water, clinging to her body. She might as well have been nude for how well it covered her.
"You have a small birthmark high on your right thigh," Graves started, and Luella nearly jumped out of her skin at the rough sound of his voice… "It’s not like I haven’t seen all of you before." His words left nothing to the imagination.
"What?" Luella breathed, bundling the stack of clothes closer to her chest like she might hide behind them.
How did he know that? When had he seen her nude?
She wracked her brain, trying to remember if perhaps she had been unconscious around him. All the while, her skin felt slimy with violation.
Graves’s tone had allowed no space for rebuttal or counter. His words had been sure. She flushed.
Bastian red-tinged eyes popped open, and Tharen didn’t even try to hide the amused expression on his face as he watched through the slitted fingers resting over his face.
Ever the protective beast, Az seethed, " When ?"
"I was the first to see her. You’ll never take that from me." Graves shrugged a broad shoulder as he spoke—all the answer he deigned to give. His words weren’t directed to Luella but to the other three in the room, all wearing vastly different expressions.
Tharen with sadistic amusement; Az, open rage on her behalf; and Bastian, whose emotion was not so easily identifiable. The vampire’s eyes were darkened red with interest, yet the downward tilt to the corners of his mouth spoke of discontent, coupled with the swift tapping of his finger against his thigh. In… fury? It was as though the vampire was trying to stop himself from going at Graves’s throat.
Maroon eyes shifted to her, and Bastian’s expression softened somehow. The anger lessened, and the interest burned hotter. He seemed pleased by the prospect of Graves seeing the entirety of her flesh.
But that couldn’t be right, could it?
Why would he care?
She imagined vampires to be deeply territorial and possessive, not at all one to enjoy sharing.
"Think hard on it," Graves instructed her, before he returned to silence.
Tharen punched Graves’s leg, but the male did not even make a sound at the harsh hit. Graves pulled the hood of his cloak down further, completely obscuring his eyes.
She decided to hurry before they changed their minds. She unfurled the bundle of clothes. Long pants, thick and soft, perfect for the frigid dungeons. A long-sleeved, woven shirt, laces crossing down the front; it was huge. Luella held up the shirt by the arms, and not even on her body, it swallowed her. It looked like a male’s shirt. One of their shirts?
Az poked a hand through the bars. "Hurry up, angel. I’ll make sure they don’t look."
Luella nodded, distracted by the size of the shirt. Holding it to her nose, the fibers tickled her face as she breathed deeply. Bergamot. She sighed. The same smell that’s been wafting off of Bastian and driving her near mad.
It was his shirt.
Peeking one last time at the three hulking figures in her cell, Luella stood, quickly and quietly. She drew closer to Az, uncaring that the demon didn’t cover his eyes. She trusted him, and he had already seen much in the time they’d been in such close quarters together. She had awoken from sleep a few nights before, her gown completely bunched up around her waist from where she had fitfully tossed and turned, exposing the silken panties on her lower half.
She didn’t bat an eye at the demon’s watchful glare, much more concerned about the other three within the confines of her cell—so close she felt their warmth as it radiating around her.
She quickly pulled her gown off, glad to be rid of the dirty, torn thing. Cool air wafted over her exposed skin, and she shivered. Stood only in thin panties, an arm held over her breasts, she looked up. Az’s amber eyes were already trained on her body, and he swallowed, throat moving at the motion. A vein pulsed in his neck, and she almost tripped in her haste to pull the shirt over her head one-handed. The shirt fell to her lower thighs, almost hitting her knees. The laces were undone, and the sharp V of the neckline dipped to almost her belly button, barely concealing her breasts.
In typical male fashion, Bastian didn’t think to supply a fresh set of undergarments, so she would have to do without…
She took a moment to steel herself before rolling the scant, silken material clad around her hips down the expanse of her legs. She balled it up and tucked it beneath her old gown. Az gave a low groan from behind her, and she looked up, still bent slightly with her back partially to him. Her golden hair was drying slowly in the chilled dungeons, and it fell in wet curls around her shoulders, offering a curtain for her to hide behind as she watched the demon from the corner of her eye and rose, pulling the skintight pants up her legs. They molded to her skin but were slightly loose around her waist.
"I’m done," Luella breathed, feeling a little out of breath—the exertion from changing or the heaviness of the air. Maybe a combination of both. "You can look."
Bastian’s eyes slanted open, and they roved over her as he hummed low under his breath in appreciation. "Good," he rumbled. His sensual voice was deeper.
Tharen stood, slapping a hand on Graves’s shoulder as he passed. He barely even glanced at her before he left, calling out over his shoulder, "We should do that again sometime."
Luella bit back a scoff.
Graves followed suit, not even muttering a word as he left. But she felt his stare on the exposed skin of her chest, and the birthmark on her thigh burned as she remembered his words. His challenge to think hard on it .
The male was as silent as a whisper of air as he retreated into the shadows of the hall. The darkness welcomed him in its embrace like they were one and the same.
Red eyes still locked on her, Bastian stood. The shirt threatened to fall over her shoulder as she shifted. The vampire stepped closer, and Az gave a low growl in warning.
With an impish half-smirk, Bastian raised his hands, reaching for the laces on her shirt. His knuckles brushed over her chest, and she inhaled sharply. Pulling the end of the laces taut, he tied them off with practiced hands, smoothing over a few wrinkles in afterthought. His tense shoulders relaxed now that she was more decent.
"I’ll be back soon. I promise, pet. I won’t let you waste away here." He brushed a hand down her cheek and bent to lift the bucket. He left the basket, giving it, then her, a pointed look. Her stomach grumbled, even after eating the pastry he had brought.
The door to her cell creaked as he opened it, shutting it behind him firmly. The key turned in the lock, and Bastian retreated into the darkness, leaving her alone and trembling in the aftermath of her captors’ presence.