A dull, predatory curiosity far different than the hunt closing in on her from above. The Raskoril was simply drawn to her heat, to the promise of nutrients.
She petted the tender polyps.
Refusing to be prey.
Nyxarion thought himself the tide meant to drown the flesh of the sun.
But she?
She was the tempest that drove those tides.
The storm of change that would mark the start of a new era.
One of Sirens returned to the seas.
Gills flaring, filaments bright and warm, she took a breath. Eyes fixed to the serpentine grace of the male snaking closer.
She smiled, showing the point of teeth, for this body he'd remade was no longer his creation.
It was hers.
And she would not cower or beg.
She sprawled.
Arranged with deliberate grace, intending to entice, she positioned herself. Head tipped back, the long, delicate column of her throat left exposed. And her scales, shifting in a hypnotic pattern, were meant to lure him in.
The oppressive dark shifted.
Beneath her, the reef hummed.
And pressure rolled through the water around her. That deep sub-audible thrum.
He was almost upon her. That massive, brutalized body a patchwork of black and glowing blue, painted in shades. Seeping crimson from lacerations and wounds. Pain telegraphed in his every action, and yet…
Still one of the most devastating things she'd ever seen.
Scales flickering, Kore's control slipped.
Just for a second. Just once.
But it was enough.
Silver eyes found her lounging in the coral.
"Stop," she murmured, and did not blink, for it wasn't a plea. Not a desperate sound, but a command.
Going still, Nyxarion froze. Eyes wide, nostrils flared as he took a breath of what lay before him.
She let her fingers wander. Shameless. Deliberate. Exploring the curve of her breast. The dip between, where her ribs flared on a breath. Hand smoothing over the swell of her belly, where she was still swollen with Thalos' claim.
Silver eyes didn't miss a moment.
He tracked her every errant twitch. Fins flared to hold position above her.
And then she reached. Feet pushing off the bedrock. Webbed fingers catching the current, she floated before him. Meeting him.
She let her fingers connect. Delicate. Exploring the shredded, damaged tissue where his gills had been left to flutter in ragged strips. No longer bleeding, but horrible.
