The treachery.
That her body sang for him.
Thighs quivering, breath coming in ragged bursts, the Abyssari song wrapped around her. A low pulsing vibration that promised to warp her bones, coaxing her hips to tilt. To accept the beast seeking to burrow into her silken warmth.
Forcing her open with excruciating pressure, Nyx bullied his way inside. A single, relentless press.
“Do you feel it?” he asked, tracing the curve of her hip, his grip possessive and unyielding. “Every last one of them wants what I have claimed. Look,” he murmured against her ear, claws beneath her chin guiding her bleary gaze out, overlooking the gathered Abyssari.
She obeyed and saw a wall of scales and fins flashing in a vortex around her.
Glimpses of males—unmistakable with the hint of bloated cocks drifting in the current—circled them in the Deep. Reacting to the scent of… her.
She clenched, turning her face in, to hide in the crook of his shoulder. Nose pressed to the underside of his jaw. Against his gills. Muscles fluttering, shifting to welcome the invasion, the stretch and burn.
“They’ll watch as you take every inch,” he whispered, plucking at her nipple, cupping the back of her skull in his free hand. “Watch you milk my cock, and touch your belly as I fill it with seed.”
Hips rolling as he forced another inch inside, Kore’s vision sparkled behind eyelids clenched shut.
The stretch burned, but the emptiness was worse.
He pulled back, only to shunt forward. Cramming her full. Making her belly tent around all that was stuffed inside.
Fins flaring to catch the current, she exhaled a school of bubbles. And for one terrible, drunken second, she wanted them to see. Wanted a witness to the incredible feat of being split wide open on his every monstrous inch.
A barb of dreadful shame lanced through her, but her hips rolled anyway.
Lewd.
Obscene.
Nyxarion chuckled, seemingly unaffected by the flames of lust burning her from the inside out. “Don’t fight it, sweet Kore. Milk the seed from my balls. Work for my knot, so we might drift through the heart of Vorynthar together. As my court learns your scent. The flavor of your delicious perfume. That’s it,” he crooned, claws prickling as he worked her hips over his preposterous girth. “Almost there. I’m going to knot you, just like you need. Seal every drop inside your womb, and?—”
It happened in an instant.
For one glorious instant, she was lost to the sensation. Letting Nyxarion push her toward the edge of a truly colossal climax.
And then the current… shifted.
The hum of Abyssari Resonance fell silent mid-note.
Their biolume veils flickered and died, going dark at some unanimous, unknowable cue.
Even the reef, which had been pulsing in time with Nyxarion’s luxurious thrusts, grew dim.
Quiet.
And Nyx.
He went rigid. Body locking inside her mid-thrust, the thick ridge of his crown kissing the mouth of her womb—so close to the promise of relief.
A note.
One perfect, haunting silver-edged tone sliced through her nerves. A gush of frigid water that froze her blood and dashed her climb toward ecstasy.
Pulse hammering against her ribs, Kore’s gills fluttered in short, panicked bursts. She tried to scream, tried to beg and plead for him to do what he promised. All of it.
But he was coiled tight. Scales darkening, the biolume along his edges pulsing an erratic, violent blue.
