She moaned, curling into herself. Body wracked by shivers as she clutched at a flat belly.
His bride hungered.
A grin kissed his lips, then. Sinister, cruel, it was a thing that made the water still, just for a moment, for even at this distance, he could see it.
The glow.
Pulsing through her veins. Surging beneath her skin.
It called to him. A beacon he couldn’t resist.
And so, he began to hum.
The Resonance.
It began in his chest, a tectonic friction, a sound utterly beyond her pathetic human ears. A sound she couldn’t hear…
… because it was meant for her body.
Using the water, he sent a vibration through the surf. A song older than the Wind. More ancient than the Earth. Older even than the Fires that sank beneath the waves so many eons ago.
The water shivered.
Shaking the sand, he made each grain dance, turning the shore into something treacherous for land-dwellers.
Easing his passage.
Taking one final pull through his gills, he slid from the water. Crooning a sound beyond hearing, he purred as he breached the surf, dragging coils of glittering, wet muscle ashore. Serpentine as he slid through quicksand with relative ease. His every movement fluid, timed to land with the waves rolling gently ashore with the receding tide.
Reacting to the sound, his bride went still before she clenched. Glistening wet thighs slid together as he approached.
She was enthralled by the song of the Black Sea. Obedient. Pliant.
Ready.
Weeping for a mate she could not see, desperate for him to soothe the pain of hunger. To give more of what she craved but couldn’t name.
The molten salt of his cum—the serum that would bind her to the sea.
He’d stayed away too long. Took longer than he’d meant recovering his strength in the trench, feeding his foundling reef until his venom sacs were depleted. Long enough for the seal inside her to rupture. For the tide to come and go, carrying the scent of his seed mixed with human slick.
Long enough for her to want…
His bride hungered.
And he could give.
The surface was pain. A dull roar screaming in his gills as the air seared the sensitive filaments not meant to taste pure oxygen. His every breath a chore with a price.
But the sight of her?
Tiny.
Bare.
Gushing for him?
He hefted his enormous bulk from the loving embrace of the sea, for pain was an old lover, and Nyx would not suffer without purpose.
