Tongue dipping inside, tasting her in his element at long last. Breathing for her, until those delicate slits behind her jaw shivered open. Wider.
And then she inhaled.
Water flooded her lungs.
Her pulse kicked beneath his claws, that stubborn flicker of resilience that had drawn him in, given new life in the heart of a Siren.
“Yield,” he murmured, holding them in place as he cleansed her world and relieved her enemy of his pale life. “Open your eyes and sing for me, little Siren.”
Her lips parted on a watery gasp. Blinking, she stared at her king with wide, shocked eyes.
“H-how?” she asked with the last breath of pure, wretched oxygen. It was a voice born for the trench. A voice laced with pain. Shame. Hunger and need.
“This ocean belongs to me,” he said, clutching her delicate form to his chest. “And now, so do you.”
CHAPTER 23
Drowning was easier the second time.
The water didn’t burn, not like before. There was no pain. Nothing like being crushed beneath the weight of a warship. Her legs ground into jelly, her hips shattered.
Drowning was…
Peaceful.
Terrifying.
A blend of cosmic horror and calm certainty.
That she deserved this. That she’d earned it.
She’d bled for sacred altars and unholy relics. Split herself on the pricks of priests, men, and monsters.
All for naught.
Because the gods couldn’t be appeased through prayerorsacrifice. There was no amount of vestal blood that might spill to make them listen, no exact measure of human ashes that would be enough to save her.
Not fromhim.
This.
The water was heavy, pressing in from all sides, thick and suffocating as she turned bulging eyes up. Looking to the distant shimmer of silver moonlight.
Searching for an escape she knew didn’t exist.
Not for her.
Not from this.
But she was held aloft, strong arms circling her waist. Inhuman arms thick enough to crush her ribs in a brutal embrace, strong enough to lift the sea and drown the earth.
Claws raked down her ribs as he held her to his chest.
Petting her.
Soothing the creature he’d claimed.
She shook her head.
