Desperate for her to destroy him, first.
To sink down upon his sceptre and annihilate him in a single, possessive stroke.
He wanted it.
Exactly that.
"Take it," he rasped, all but begging for his own ruin between her glorious, alien thighs. "Show me what a Siren can do."
He watched her, obsessively. Greedy for the hurt. Desperate for the way her pupils would yawn wide and bottomless. The hypnotic, chromatic shift of her scales so foreign to his own Abyssari nature—a blend between the kingdoms that had found an impossible haven… in her.
She wasn't the pathetic drowned thing he'd claimed in warmer waters. No longer the weeping sacrifice he'd mounted on a cursed beach, while she begged for her own destruction. Gone was any whisper of the fledgling Siren dragged beneath the waves.
This was something new.
Something to be worshipped.
One hand moving, he placed an anchor on the swell of her hip. Unable to stop himself from stroking the boundary between scale and flesh. "Show me," he murmured. "Show me what it means to be a Siren Queen."
For a moment, as she looked down upon him, there was silence. Only the sounds of their mingled breath and the distant roar of the sea itself.
And then her smile lit the dark waters.
Vorynthar ignited, a burst of glorious color that pulsed with a bright flash of light.
Eyes gleaming with reflective wonder, Kore's breath hitched. Her fingers braced on his chest as she turned her eyes over the heretical reef. Enthralled by the sight.
And then she turned her eyes back to him.
Caught his cock in the heart of her palm, fingers tight around the middle, and guided that squirming length between her legs.
Sinking down, she took him in a single, brutal slide.
He allowed it, remaining frozen. Letting her devour him whole.
Claim what she had earned, for she was not merely his bride. Not a vessel to be filled with his seed and used in the name of Abyssari rebirth.
Kore was a sovereign.
His glorious, eternal flame. His sweet Siren Queen.
Hips tilting, she moved.
Setting a pace that drew a hiss from between his clenched teeth, his savaged gills fluttering and weak, for it was not the pace of a girl afraid of shadows. It was a rolling claim. Devastating waves that surged across his bloated length. Forced his crown deep as it might go, only to withdraw. His corona caught on her rim before she sank back down. Taking every pearl. Every throbbing inch.
Doing as he'd begged.
Obliterating him with that silken squeeze.
That perfect stretch. Slick heat wrapping around him in a lewd grip, trying to milk his shaft and draw up his knot.
Impeccable.
Glorious fucking treasure.
Fingers growing tight on her hip, trying not to score her tender fat, he helped her ride. Eyes missing nothing as she worked. Obsessing over the shimmer of Abyssari scales. The color shift of the Thalassari.
"That's right," he snarled, voice raw. "Deep as you want. You mean to milk every last drop from me, don't you?"
