“Arion.” With perfect clarity, my melodious voice spills into the sea. “I can gift you the ability to breathe down here. If we’ll be in the sea often, it could be helpful. Otherwise, we’ll have to resurface and risk the cult spotting us.”
He nods in response, and I know he’s too spent to speak to my mind now.
“The thing is…” I clear my throat, and my gaze falls to his lips. “A merrow can only gift a human the ability to breathe underwater with a—a kiss. And once given, it can never be taken away. Anytime you submerge yourself in the sea, you’ll grow gills.”
I look up, and those molten eyes rove my face. They narrow as he raises a hand to cover my own. His thumb brushes over myknuckles—a touch that burns me straight to the core. Another nod. My stomach clenches. I slide my other hand to his chest. Lay a soft palm atop his heart. It thuds against me in a nervous rhythm. Though, I’m not sure which of us should be more nervous right now.
“Okay, warlock,” I whisper.
I hesitate. Glance at his lips again. My fingers curl into his shirt, and the cord between us blazes. I lean in. Close. So, so close. It’s feels like standing at the edge of a cliff. Feels like the second before falling or flying. Kissing him with our bond is dangerous. It’s a risk.
So is drowning, of course.
He growls, impatient as ever, and closes the distance for me. Fisting my hair, he pulls me forward. I collapse against his chest, against the muscle and hot skin of my enemy. A human. Awarlock.
He kisses me.
It’s not soft or sweet or even tentative. It’s hard. Violent.Ferocious.It’s centuries of war, of loathing, of bloodshed and loss all in a single second, and I—I don’t know how to comprehend it. Emotions wash through me, each of them more complicated than the last. I hate Arion. Ihatewho he is. But he kisses me as if he’s been imagining this moment, calculating each touch to be the most brutal, the most precise, the most severe.
He isdevouringme.
His lips fight mine, the electric current between us building to a shattering roar in our veins, and I can’t help curling my tail toward him. Can’t help melting as he palms my waist, fingers pressing deliciously into my scales. It’s just a kiss. One kiss. A gift.
I hardly notice the gills that carve into his neck. Hardly notice the sheer relief he feels when he can release the tether of his magic. Because he doesn’t stop. And kissing Arion—it’s not like kissing anyone else. He is a storm. A hurricane battering a shore. A cyclone whirling, demolishing, breaking everything in its wake, and,oh goddess, this is going to haunt me forever too. This warlock. His lips. His tongue.
I hate him, and he is going to haunt me forever.
The thought wrenches me away from him. I separate us by several inches, unable to stop my fingers from trailing to my lips. Rawand swollen and aching.Fuck.The cord snaps taut, stretching from his heart to mine, and our chests heave with barely repressed hunger. His eyes don’t leave my face. Even as something cold touches my shoulder, and I spin to find—
The man from the prison.
The man who saved us from the cult with a stupid bucket of water.
Shit.Has he been here the whole time? That is… a little more than slightly mortifying. Black hair, tinged blue beneath the sea, is tied neatly at his nape, while a heavy four-piece suit weighs down his wiry limbs. He points with his sword from his mouth to his neck to his chest. Then to Arion. Then to me.
Andthenhe folds his hands as if in prayer, pleading with wide brown eyes for me to kiss him too. Because he is also a human, and he is also running out of air. Although, he doesn’t seem to have the magic to help himself like Arion.
I glance back at Arion. “Another friend of yours?”
Arion frowns. He crosses his arms, and his voice comes out just a strong—just as melodious—as mine. “Not in the slightest.”
Of course, I recall that—their arguments about Abysses and Arion’s palpable resentment toward him. Still, heisthe reason we managed to escape the cult. “We probably shouldn’t let him drown.”
The man nods intently, swimming desperately between us and pointing to me again.
“He is a criminal,” Arion says.
I scoff at that. “You just decimated anisland.”
“You asked me to.”
“We can’t do this again, warlock.” Maybe he won’t haunt me. Maybe he’ll remain a giant pain in my ass forever. “Are we killing him or are we saving him?”
“You want to kiss him?” Arion’s gaze narrows on my lips, and the cord pulses seafoam green. I lick them, and I swear his pupils dilate. His throat bobs. Desire pools low in my belly.
All the while, the man floats there between us, gesturing wildly with his sword.
“Obviously, we aren’t going to kill him,” I say. “He helped us.”
