Chapter 30 Torrent of Musings #2
She sighed, but did as he said, glad for his instructions. It gave her reason to keep on. A purpose.
As she used the dying flame to light the new wick, shadows danced in the corners of the room. She shivered as she blew out the old flame, letting it rest.
As air puffed past her lips, she swore, the very stone around her rattled faintly.
Her blue eyes grew wide, and inside her, Bastian’s worry filtered through as he said, When is the last time you felt pleasure, pet.
His candor made her blush, even alone. "You know," she replied softly, realizing this time, she had spoken aloud.
Truly? That’s… not ideal, Luella. And now we’re trapped.
"Now, we’re trapped," she echoed, sitting on the bed. Her wings brushed the sheets, and it made pleasure skitter down her spine, magnified from the nature of their conversation, the feel of the vampire within her mind.
Trapped does not mean anything, pet, Bastian purred. We are stuck here for a week. With only ourselves for company. I guarantee you won’t be the only one needy and desperate.
The implications of his words made her breath hitch.
Was she needy? Was she desperate?
Yes, you are, he crooned. Do you want me to show you how to fix it?
Her fingers tangled in the sheets, and she felt a stirring of want in her core. "How?" she breathed.
His presence in her mind bloomed, consuming her. Touch yourself.
Luella gasped aloud, clapping a hand over her mouth.
The vampire’s laughter filled her mind. I know those words are not new to you, pet. Don’t you remember?
And suddenly a memory consumed her, just as he was.
She and Graves, amid a throng of icy blue. Her heated skin, the pulse of awareness in her breast. And his words…
Do you want to know how to get rid of this feeling? Touch yourself.
Then, Luella had been abashed, too, and slightly confused. But this time, she knew the true meaning.
As the memory receded, she said to Bastian, "I-I don’t know."
Hm, pet, don’t tempt me further. It is like being in the fires of the Below… to think of you in this room alone, and I have no way of getting to you.
He was one to speak of temptations—his very words were tempting her.
The distant crack of lightning made her jolt, and she felt the well of her magic thrum within her, desperate to be let free.
As she placed a hand over her chest, she swore she could feel her power seep through her flesh and brush against her fingertips.
Her tongue poked out, tracing along her lower lip as she thought, No one has to know?
Do you truly think I could keep something like this from them all? Bastian replied. Even if I don’t tell them, they will feel it—feel your pleasure.
Will you keep it a secret… for me? she prodded.
As you wish. I will try, Bastian purred. Lay down, pet.
She did, feeling the feathers of her wings brush against the sheets as she did so. She had removed her cloak long ago, wearing only her shirt with the hole cut into the back and her billowing pants. Even alone, she didn’t want to take them off.
Then, you don’t have to, the vampire reassured.
"I don’t know what I’m doing," Luella breathed.
His sensual croons turned to soft placations, tinged with adoration. I will help you, my pretty pet. Say the word—I can send you back to sleep. Or…
"No. No more sleep."
She was tired of sleeping. Of letting things pass her by. She wanted this—even if she didn’t know what it was she truly wanted.
You remember your lessons? How I taught you the power of sensuality?
"Yes," she whispered into the room.
How would you feel if I gave you another lesson? No strings attached. She felt Bastian smile, even though she could not see it. Simply you in this room, and me in your head. Do you want that?
She nodded furiously, cheeks flaming when he laughed.
Lay your hand flat on your breast, pet, Bastian murmured, voice like silk and velvet in her mind. Slow. Do not rush. Ease yourself into it.
She did, feeling her chest rise and fall, breasts pressing against her palm through her billowy shirt.
Take your other hand and drag it down your stomach. Slow, he reminded when her fingers skipped and danced quickly down to her belly button.
She slowed her pace, feeling her belly quiver under her touch. Her shirt rode up from her squirming, revealing a thin line of skin between her blouse and trousers.
Without his instructions, she brushed her fingertips over the soft flesh under her belly button, shakily exhaling as she felt her core clench in need.
Good, pet. See, you do not need me. Do what feels good to you.
"I do," she said, eyes widening when her voice came out husky and thick. "I do need you."
His pleasure ricocheted in her mind, and she suddenly wondered.
Bastian? she thought, hand pausing just under the beginning of the waistband of her trousers.
Yes? he answered.
Are you…?
Pressed against the sheets, her wings shivered as he granted her mercy by answering her unfinished question. I’m touching myself, pet. Thinking of you. Do you want to know what you do to me?
She was breathless. What?
Keep going, and I’ll tell you, he ordered, silkily.
Luella barely realized she had stopped. Her fingers delved under her waistband, skimming the soft space between her thighs, feeling wetness. This felt so wrong, yet so right. Did the others feel her at this moment? Did Graves?
Touch lightly at first. Tease yourself.
Her fingertip brushed lower, and her whole body jumped. She did it again, a soft moan falling from her lips, echoed in her head by a masculine groan.
Every brush of her hand was magnified by Bastian’s presence, and she had half the mind to remember to ask, What do I do to you?
You tempt me. You make me want to be someone worthy to hold your forgiveness. With every sigh that falls from your lips, I want to claw through these walls just to get to you.
She dipped further inside her wet heat, swirling her fingertip over a spot that made her back bow and wings flutter.
She didn’t know what she was doing, but it felt good, and Bastian liked the sounds she was making, so it must be right.
All she knew was, she wanted to feel that way again—feel that explosion of sparks.
You’re doing so well, pet. So, so well for me, Bastian praised, words choked with echoes of their shared pleasure. I want you to shatter by your own hand.
She wanted that. Desperately.
Luella lost her words, lost her thought, as she kept touching herself. Exploratory, teasing brushes, turning fumbling in her haste to chase that feeling.
Ghostly hands traced over her mind as Bastian whispered, With me. Together.
And she shattered, feeling her wings snap out from where they had been tucked closely to her spine, ripples of twin pleasure shooting from the top of her head to the very tips of her toes as broken gasps spilled from her lips, and Bastian’s groans filled her mind in unison.
Her fingers were still between her thighs, and her breathing was labored.
She didn’t know how long she lay there like that, relishing the power of what she had done, as Bastian kept sending soft, wordless feelings into her mind, enveloping her with praise.
I’m proud of you, my pretty pet, he finally said, once her breathing had slowly returned to normal.
And Luella… she was proud of herself, too.
Exhaustion made her body sag against the sheets as she turned to rub her cheek against the pillow. She tugged her hand free from within her trousers, not knowing what to do with it.
Taste it, Bastian urged.
She remembered what Az had done—how the demon had touched her, then tasted the wetness that lingered on his fingertips. You mean you want me to…
Place your fingers between your lips. If I cannot be there to taste your arousal, then I will do so through you.
Slowly, she brought her hand up to her mouth, seeing her fingertips glistening softly in the glow of the candlelight. She parted her lips, tongue peeking out. Was she truly doing this? Bastian did not think it to be dirty, nor had Az when he had done so.
It’s not wrong, is it? she asked, one last time to the vampire.
Never. The vehemence in Bastian’s tone gave her all the courage she needed to place her fingers on her tongue, wrapping her lips around them as she let her taste fill her mouth.
Soft and mild sweetness. Not much of anything at all, really.
But Bastian groaned deep inside her mind. Gods, pet. I need to taste you for myself. Promise me I can once we are free from here?
Her fingers came free with a soft pop.
Luella’s lids fluttered, and as she settled down to sleep, sated, she whispered her reply, not knowing what she was getting herself into.
I promise.
As sleep took her, Bastian did not leave her mind, and she was dimly aware of an exhaustion that was not her own, tugging at her chest, one laced with pain and blood, honeyed cloves, and secrets and lies.
Each day in this dark seclusion was somehow just like that.
Bastian, stealing into her mind, teasing her in her thoughts. Sometimes, they would merely talk. About things of no consequence, a break from the heaviness that awaited them outside these stone walls.
Every night—at least, she thought it to be night; the candles were the only source of light here—he sent her wondrous dreams. Sometimes sweet, always soft, and occasionally sensual.
She kept routine, even when routine seemed to resist her, carefully wiping her body with a cloth dampened by the trickle of water from the spout over the empty tub—the only way she could bear to bathe. It made her miss Az desperately.
In dreams, Bastian found her.
In a leather chair, she sat, the edges of her vision flickering with incandescent shimmers as Bastian sat before her, fingers teasing the soft skin of her inner thighs. She didn’t let him look as she touched herself. And he always obeyed.
Those dreams came twice in the seven days they were trapped.
And in each one, she felt her magic grow calm in the presence of her Vincire.
She felt the others, too. In her mind, in her heart. Nestled deeply inside her soul, cracking at the edges of her composure, forcing themselves inside her, desperate to be known.
The first time Bastian asked if she would speak with the others, she told him no and made him leave her mind. Her dreams that night had still been soft, but less so. As if even his Mind magic couldn’t break through her fears.
The second time, he tricked her.
She lay on the bed on her side, just awoken from a dream he had gifted her, where she teetered on the edge of her release and sought no relief from it for what felt like hours of sweat-soaked pleas.
All while he filled her mind, unseeing but watching.
As she awoke, arms wrapped around a pillow and cheek pressed tightly against it as she sought its comfort, wings shivering behind her, it was to find herself shattering, untouched.
She had been forced over that toe-curling pinnacle from a dream, alone.
As she gasped into the pillow, she heard his call in her mind:
Speak with them. Please.
She was so undone by pleasure, spasming through her body, that she would have agreed to anything—she did agree to anything, whispering a soft, "Yes, Bastian," in reply.
That was the fifth night.
And on the sixth morning, lounging on the bed, tracing the cracks in the wall—she could count them by memory now—she felt a stirring in her mind.
A tug that echoed louder than the cracked doorway between her and her vampiric Vincire.
A great chasm, long and hollow, stretched between her and the five males she felt constantly wrapped around every fiber of her being.
Luella, you are here, King Vale said into the chasm.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. I was tricked.
I find it hard to believe Bastian would trick you any longer. Vale’s tone did not let on to any knowledge of what she and Bastian had been up to during their solitude; though, she knew they had felt it—all of it.
I know of only one way you can be tricked, lamb, and it’s not with mere words. Tharen’s sharp words filtered down the chasm.
You do not speak to me for a week, and that is what you choose to say? Luella couldn’t help but reply.
She felt a presence, akin to warm sugar and chocolate, and she grew soft in a blink.
Lu, angel, I’ve missed you dearly.
I’ve missed you, Az, she replied, her voice sounding like a sigh even in her mind.
We are not here for niceties. Vale’s words echoed over the rest. We must make a plan. We will be let out come dawn. Luella, he addressed her, I’ve tried to get Bastian to convince you to meet sooner. The others know what must be done, what can or cannot be revealed. But not you…
I would not force her into our link, Bastian intervened. I persuaded her as best as I could.
Indignation rose within her. You did, did you?
She had too much time with her thoughts. She was restless and caged, poised to snap at any moment, and the others felt the heat of her ire, lancing down the threads.
Embers cascaded over her, not from within her mind, but from the thread wrapped tightly around her soul.
When we are free, do not speak, Luella. Follow in our lead. One of us will always stay with you—no matter what transpires, Vale continued.
I will be careful with my words. I’ve had much practice in being ignored. I doubt it will be different here… she mused.
Your doubts are untrue.
And she gasped aloud at the words said in that gravel-like tone—Graves.
She felt herself lock up, too weary to share her thoughts with her shadowed stalker and winged liar.
Make your plans without me, Vale. You’ve danced around me for centuries; you can continue to.
She shut them all out, turning on her side as she watched the flame flicker in the candle, wax steadily dripping to the stone floor.