“Well,” I tease lightly, circling him as he treads water with infuriating ease, “that’s not the color I imagined.”
I keep my voice controlled and measured. If I don’t, he could be spellbound.
Even when I’m not trying, there’s still a rhythm to it. Words roll instead of snap. Consonants soften. Vowels linger a fraction longer than they should. I’ve learned to cut sentences short on purpose, to keep from drawing them out the way instinct wants me to.
He flushes instantly, brows knitting in mock offense. “Andyourtail isn’t what I expected either,” he shoots back, sulking adorably. “But you don’t see me complaining.”
I glance down at my glossy black tail, watching it move through the water like ink swirling in glass. I shrug, entirely unbothered. “I wasn’t complaining,” I murmur, drifting closer. My fingers trace the sharp line of his cheekbone, lingering there. “I quite like surprises.”
His breath stutters when I nip his nose, playful and soft,andIdartawayjustashisarmsreachforme.My laughter echoes across the lake as I speed off again, heart racing with the joy of it.
“If I catch you,” he calls after me, voice low and dangerous in that way I love, “I’m going to fuck you in that form.”
“Promises, promises,” I sing back, my voice carryingover the water.
When I laugh, it carries. When I whisper, it lowers into something warmer, closer. Something that brushes against skin instead of ears.
And if I let go?
If I let the melody slip free?
The tone deepens. Resonates. It hums in my chest and spills outward like a rolling tide. I’ve watched it happen, shoulders relaxing, pupils widening, breath hitching for no reason they can explain. It doesn’t sound louder. It sounds nearer.
That’s the trick of it.I don’t have to shout. I just have to mean it.
Mostofthetime,Ikeepitleashed.Ordinaryand human. It's always there, though. Waiting.
I use it now, pushing the melody into my voice as I laugh and swim faster. The water opens up around me as I dive, cool currents sliding over my skin. I twist through a column of light, letting my tail snap behind me in a playful kick. I’m built for speed. Streamlined and efficient.
He’s built for overwhelming force.
There's a low churn behind me as tentacles slice through the water. I don’t look back. That would ruin the playful drama. Instead, I dart through a narrow rock pass I know he’ll have to think twice about.
Ihearthefaintestrumbleofamusementthroughthe water.
He’s enjoying this.
Iloopupwardinaspiral,blackhairfanningout
around me, tail flashing in the dim light. The lake carries sound differently down here. My laughter travels, bright and teasing and sensual.
A tentacle brushes past my tail.
I shriek, pure theatrics and joy, and swim away faster.
He’s closing in. I can feel the displaced water around me. The warm pulse of his movement. Kraken speed isn’t flashy, but it’s relentless. He doesn’t need to rush. He just has to wait for me to tire.
Rude.
I angle toward open water, then fake left at the last second, darting right in a turn only someone with one tail and zero self-preservation would attempt. My shoulder grazes something smooth and pink as I slip past him.
“Two slow,” I sing.
A tentacle curls around my waist.
Not tight, but I’m definitely not getting out of this.
I go still, suspended in the water, breathless and grinning.
