Kore.
She wasn't merely adapting.
Wasn't simply evolving.
The girl was thriving.
Claiming rights to power long thought extinct by the scholars who'd kept the knowledge.
Her transformation had been ferried along by venom. Nyxarion's essence had driven her toward this preposterous ledge.
But then…
Thalos had called the Spiral. Set his venom to work alongside the exile's.
He'd helped.
Pushed her.
Reshaped her into something… else. A creature neither court had anticipated.
Unwanted pressure built inside his vent. Dangerous and damned inconvenient, because it wasn't merely arousal.
It was hunger.
For the potential she represented.
For if a creature built from trench-born venom could best the king of the Hollow Courtby accident… what dormant gifts might she recover from the Asterion line? What ancient powerhad been lost that her curious, repulsive body might recover, if she were fed enoughAsterionvenom to adapt to his line, too?
Jaw bunching at the corners, Thalos stared into the dark long after his people had retreated to the warmer waters above.
Alone.
Imagining it.
The way her belly had bulged. Stretched taut and shiny around Nyxarion's torrent of wretched sperm.
Cock thickening in a rush, a total, humiliating lack of control, it burst from his slit before he could stop it. Already bloated. Obscene. Thick and ridged, pulsing where it nosed the current in search of the cunt weeping that damnable scent.
Eyes flicking through the dark, Thalos fought the wave of shame that danced in his scales. Lifting them in a ripple of self-loathing, when the fist not wrapped around Cymareth's hilt…
… found an anchor on his cock.
His fingers tightened.
Knuckles white.
He pumped.
Skin tightening, he flexed his scales and let his camouflage ripple over his skin. Cold. Shifting from visible to not so he could indulge such a shame without being seen.
It wasn't the way she'd writhed in Nyxarion's cruel grip. Not the way he'd pumped her full and made her heavy. And neither was it the scream that had torn from her lungs as Nyx wrung an orgasm from her pathetic cunt.
It was the lancing agony of purple flames.
The electric shock of… of losing.
Toher.
