It was to be a vault.
One meant to contain a treasure.
The ghost of the shape flickered in the deep, pulled straight from the sinister corners of his imagination, built on aThalassariskeleton. Knitting itself along a bony frame, invisible even to his keen gaze.
Ribs of hollow bone flickered in the dark.
He smiled.
And the coral drank.
Soon.
Soon, the sound of her panting would echo through the depths. Her cunt clenching, milking him dry as her body begged for more.
And he would give it to her.
Knot her before the eyes of the court.
Claim her for the Black Sea and start a new era.
His cock burst from his vent, swollen and eager. Remembering her defiance. Her pleas and tears.
The perfect little whore was the first brick in the foundation of his fledgling kingdom. One that Thalos could never simply take, for it was to be built on a bride who would break only for him.
“You are the tide.”
Showing teeth, Nyx flicked his tail and brought one of his spines forward. Stabbing the eldest polyp at its base, and letting it drink the toxin Kore would need to complete her transformation from grotesque to regal.
Consumed by his task. Giving everything he could spare.
The pain was exquisite.
Lancing through his body in ripples, sharp and cleansing as the venom gland pulsed and emptied. Beneath him, the reef shivered. Hungry larvae flexing as if swallowing his toxin deep into their lattice.
Barbs flared. Thin spirals grew calcified and thick. The whole structure throbbing in tandem with his heart, glowing with a luminous blue light as unnatural veins grew tuberous and sluggish with his essence.
Back arching, his gills flared wide. Scales fanning out to vent the heat of his effort. He would bleed for his kingdom the way Thalos would never understand, sacrificing his own health in the privacy of the treacherous Black Sea. A place so hostile, none of thePelagornhad ever dared to colonize it.
But he would.
Already, his reef was filtering the basin’s anoxic, poisonous layers, making it rich with oxygen. Fertile with all the ingredients needed for his bride to thrive in the harshest possible clime.
Breath coming short and hard, Nyx reached for the next fragment—and froze.
The current shifted.
Hardly perceptible.
But laced with something familiar.
That scent.
It rippled through his gills.
Filled his lungs.
His own seed laced the current.
