She was too soft. Too fragile.
Andhe…he couldn’t tolerate hours above the surface—the bloody red mist curling about him in the trench was proof enough of that.
So there’d been no other choice.
He’d fought the urge to knot her until the very end—until his lungs burned, his gills bled, his mind blurring as the poisonous surface air nearly suffocated the life from his chest. Until he’d felt it bloom.
His knot.
Swelling at his base, already forming inside that tight human sheath.
It was a splash of cold terror. Simply a matter of instinct—to set an anchor and seal his seed inside before the ocean might wash it away. As he would with any female of his kind. AVirelii.
But this female was not of his kin. Her body not meant to handle what he was driven to do to her.
What he wasgoingto do inside her.
Not yet.
No,this time, withthisbride, he’d be deliberate. Careful. Each drop of venom measured before it was pumped into her veins. Applied with dedicated intention as he guided her through the coming shift from pathetic to glorious.
Tongue snaking out, Nyx tasted the darkness. Lips twitching in something that might have been mistaken for a smile.
But wasn’t.
For it wouldn’t be long. Not long before he might watch her molt that revolting human weakness, and then?
Oh, then he’d drag her beneath the waves and knot her so violently the seven kingdoms would know that Nyxarion Korrides, last of the Abyssari-born kings, exiled to the Black Sea, had claimed a female. One fit to rule the anoxic ocean as his consort. His bride. One he’dmadeto suit an environment none of thePelagornhad ever been able to conquer.
Not quite aVirelii.
Not a woman.
She’d be both.
A Siren.
But she wasn’t ready.
Not yet.
Claws flexing against the sea floor, he willed his cock to retract. Straining to ignore the agony of a knot denied, he tried to force it back into his vent, behind the protective scales guarding his genital slit.
As if in defiance, a ribbon of seed gushed from his tip, for he could still feel her. Her tight heat fluttering around his girth, the way she’d writhed beneath him. Fighting until her cries had bled into soft mewls of surrender. Crooning as he’d pumped her full of seed…
She’d taken himso well.
Come for him when he filled her.
And he’d abandoned her.
Hissing, fins flaring, he scowled at the surface twinkling in the distance and took his cock in a deadly fist. Stroking it as he glared at that hated, burning light.
He needed time to recover. Time for his lungs to heal from the putrid rot above, so he could return with a vengeance. He needed to feed the reef, to let the polyps drink from his venom glands and feast on his blood to ensure it was bound to his will.
He didn’t have time to return.
There was work to be done to prepare for his bride…
