Thalos.
He was…beautiful.
Shockingly so.
Below her, Nyxarion was a writhing mass of defiance and fury.
But Thalos was stillness. Serene as he floated above them all.
And clenched in his fist, commanding the currents, the hilt of a pearlescent, bladeless saber.
He flicked the weapon—she saw a glimpse of an edge catch the distant light—and the pull around her body grew tighter. Intense.
Light flared bright along her skin. Alien. Wrong. And yet, it had become a part of her, pulsing in time with her alarm.
Churning around her, a frigid glove of liquid control wrapped around her body. And as the pressure built and the current grew stronger, Kore gasped. Gills straining to extract enough oxygen from the now turbulent water. Chest heaving, her scales caught the dim light as she was brought up from the depths.
Caught.
Thalos didn't blink.
Head tilting as he stared down at her, pale eyes roamed her body.
Lip curled in disgust, he made a sound at the back of his throat. Musical. Cruel.
And then he bade the current spin her in a tight, slow circle. Exposing her to his inspection.
Cheeks burning, Kore was studied by arctic blue eyes—and found desperately lacking.
Thalos made a sound in his throat, repulsed.
And then he bade the current to peel her legs apart.
Flailing, she tried to break free from his grip. To hide from the shame, even as her body flushed. Betraying her. A gush of slick perfumed the water. Her nipples—already hard and pointed, aching with the pain of denial—grew puffy with want.
Lips parting, Kore tried to plead. To beg him to let her go, let her hide. But her gills strained to simply draw breath, her voice stolen.
Still, that unnatural current brought her up. Lifting her to his height. And on her next revolution, she was close enough to see the detail. Intricate patterns in his scales. Not just silver-blue, but gleaming with shards of moonlight.
And his face.
It was all sharp angles and cold perfection.
The opposite of Nyxarion's primal ferocity.
Fins fanning in hypnotic sails as he inspected her, he was the definition of ethereal beauty. Elegance in motion. The sort of exquisite glamour she hadn't believed might exist in the world.
That she'd have to drown to see it.
Her breath caught.
Those glacier-blue eyes met hers. Pupils tiny pricks of seething interest, Thalos' gaze grew narrowed and cutting. “How… pitiful,” he whispered, his voice a ripple in the water.“Such cruelty. Nyxarion has twisted you into a parody of the life you were meant to live. A creature he means to use for but one base purpose.” Tongue clicking, Thalos’ voice was melodic perfection. Beauty laced his every syllable, no matter that his words were cruel. A hook digging into the bruises already festering behind her heart.
Glacial eyes wandering over her body, Thalos continued his inspection. Lingering, for a moment, on the glossy sheen gushing from between her legs. “Repulsive is a kind word for what you’ve become,” he said. “A corrupted thing. Neither human nor Pelagorn. You are grotesque.”
His fingers lifted, and the current obeyed, forcing her legs wider until her intimate flesh was fully exposed. Another wave of silver slick escaped, clouding the water between them.
A breath, and Thalos recoiled, his magnificent fins flattening against his scales in disgust. “And this… thisfilthyou secrete. Even now, your body begs to be bred by the nearest male.”
