And tonight, when the storm forces me to choose between drowning and swimming to him, we both know what I'll choose.
The healing secretion pulses through my bloodstream, making another wave of desperate need crash through me. My pussy clenches hard, releasing more wetness that the coral beneath me absorbs greedily, glowing brighter.
I'll never make it to the portal. My body is already breaking, already choosing him over death. Over dignity. Over anything except the promise of relief.
The storm approaches faster than expected, and I realize he probably controls that too. Somehow. This whole world is his weapon, and I'm caught in it, dripping and desperate and knowing that tonight I'll break.
Tonight I'll swim to him.
We both know it.
NAIA
The storm doesn't build gradually. It arrives like judgment, turning the orange sky black in minutes. The first wave that hits the island is taller than I am, crashing over the coral spires I climbed last night. There's nowhere to go. No shelter high enough. The next wave will take me whether I'm ready or not.
The scale burns so hot in my hand it almost hurts. He's close. Probably watching me realize I'm about to die.
My body hasn't stopped betraying me since his healing secretions entered my bloodstream yesterday. The arousal has evolved past desperate into something that makes thinking nearly impossible. My pussy produces so much wetness that it runs down my legs in visible streams. My clit throbs in time with my heartbeat, swollen and hypersensitive. Even the rain hitting my skin makes me want to moan.
The second wave hits harder. Water surges past my waist, trying to drag me back with it as it recedes. I grab the nearest coral spire, but my hands are slick with rain and my own sweat. The coral cuts into my palms, adding blood to the water. Bad. Blood brings predators.
The third wave tears me free.
I'm underwater instantly, tumbling in the surge. No up or down, just violent motion that slams me into coral, scrapes skin off my shoulder, fills my mouth with salt water that tastes wrong. Not like Earth's oceans. Thicker. More mineral. The current drags me away from the island, and I know with the clarity of a former rescue swimmer that I'm about to be smashed against the coral reef that surrounds the deeper water.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind.
Not tentacles. Arms. Human-shaped but covered in scales that feel like silk and steel combined. He pulls me against his chest, and my back registered the texture of scales and the surprising warmth of his skin. His tentacles propel us forward, but his arms are what hold me safe.
I can't breathe. My lungs burn, demanding air. Panic sets in, the familiar drowning response I've felt before but never like this. Never while held by something that could crush me or save me depending on his whim.
His hand tilts my chin up, and then his mouth covers mine.
Not a kiss. Something else. His lips seal over mine completely, and then he breathes into me. Not air exactly, but something my lungs accept. The burning stops. The panic recedes. I can breathe, somehow, even though we're twenty feet underwater and diving deeper.
He swims through the storm surge like it's nothing. His tentacles propel us through underwater canyons I didn't know existed, past coral formations that glow in the darkness. Fish scatter from our path, their bioluminescence creating trails of light. The pressure should hurt my ears, but whatever he's breathing into me prevents that too.
We surface inside a cave.
The transition from water to air makes me gasp, breaking the seal of his mouth on mine. Real air floods my lungs, tasting of salt and stone and something organic. The cave hasan air pocket, maybe twenty feet across, the ceiling covered in something that glows soft blue-white like stars.
He releases me gradually, arms unwinding until I'm treading water on my own. But he doesn't go far. In the soft light, I can see him properly for the first time this close. His face is angular, beautiful in a way that makes my chest tight. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, those silver-blue eyes that seem to see through me. His hair, if you can call it that, is something between hair and delicate tentacles, moving in the water like he's permanently underwater even in air.
“Female chose correctly,” he says, and his voice echoes in the enclosed space. “Chose life over pride. Chose this one over drowning.”
“You didn't give me a choice.” My voice shakes. From cold, from fear, from the arousal that hasn't stopped even now.
“Always choices. Could have climbed higher. Could have tied self to coral. Could have tried swimming to other island.” His hand reaches out, fingers tracing my jaw. His touch is gentle but possessive. “Female chose to wait for this one. Body knew what mind resisted.”
His fingers trail down my throat, and I shiver. They're slightly webbed, I notice, with claws that retract. The touch is so controlled, so careful, but I can feel the strength in those hands. He could snap my neck without effort.
“Three days of suffering,” he continues, his hand moving to my shoulder, thumb brushing my collarbone. “Three days of emptiness. This one could make it stop. Could fill female properly. Make the burning cease.”
“Then do it.” The words escape before I can stop them. Three days of constant arousal, of my pussy clenching on nothing, of wetness that never stops. I'm exhausted from wanting.
“Not yet. Female must understand first. Must know what she begs for.”
He pulls himself partially onto a ledge in the cave, and I see his full form clearly. From the waist up, he's humanoid perfection. Broad shoulders, defined muscles that ripple under scaled skin that shifts from blue to green in the light. His arms are proportioned like a human's but stronger, longer reach. His hands are large, elegant despite the webbing and claws.
