Humming, fins fanning, it was Thalos' turn to embrace the quiet.
And he did so until a soft sound drew them both back.
Kore murmured something formless, squirming against his grip, before she pressed her face to Nyxarion's chest. Arching, her spine flexing in a ripple of sinew and muscle, she groaned. Dragged back from the depths of satiation.
Waking.
Color exploded across her scales. Her skin.
Violet cascaded down the ladder of her ribs. Dancing in the hollows between bone, only for gold to ignite in the shadows. Kissing the bowl of her hips with a stain of indigo and molten blue. Shades between moonlight and sun fire chased each other across the swell of her belly in lazy, rippling currents.
A tiny, fluttering heartbeat that echoed beneath translucent scales.
Both Pelagorn went still.
Entranced.
Utterly.
She was exquisite.
A creature forged from ruin and rebirth. A body he'd engineered, thriving in waters that should have extinguished that divine flame.
And across the current, Thalos' eyes gleamed with that same helpless fascination—and for one unguarded heartbeat, the mask slipped.
Eyes wide, lips parted, fins flared in unconscious display, Thalos postured for a creature they hadbothbred.
It was a wretched thought. One that soured something in Nyxarion's belly.
Beneath the fury and leagues of possessive heat boiling in his veins, he felt it. The gradual easing of a seal starting to slip. A slow deflation, easing inch by inch.
His knot.
Growing soft.
The swollen base of his cock was beginning to release. Freedom creeping closer. Mere heartbeats before the wet slide of pure sensation let go, and twelve body-lengths became crossable.
His muscles coiled tight, calculating distance and drag.
Thalos noticed.
Of course he did.
Drawing back, Thalos straightened and said, "The scholars of Caelith Mare arrive on the next tide."
Nyx went rigid in the same moment that Kore's breathing changed. Gills flaring wide, a gasp against his collarbone. Awake. Listening.
Pitching his voice to carry, Thalos added, "They arrive on the next tide. To examine her. Confirm its health. Ensure the child ishealthy, and that it might continue to gestate without"—a pause as weighted as it was cruel—"catastrophiccomplications."
"There are no complications, you silver-tongued wretch," Nyx snarled, and his knot slipped another tiny fraction.
Hands spread, Thalos smiled. Humming in something approaching empathy, if the glittering pest might feel such a thing. "I wish I could share your casual indifference," Thalos hummed. "But we don't know who the sire is, Korrides. Or if the child can even tolerate these poisoned waters without coming to harm."
Turning, Kore's eyes were wide as she stared up at the Shallow King. Her gaze flooded with horror. Dainty little fingers flattened against Nyxarion's chest.
"A child conceived of my line?" he said, each syllable a barb thrown with deadly precision. "With lungs built for oxygen-rich currents? Intolerant of the Deep and this anoxic trench?" Tongue clicking, Thalos hummed. "The Deep will surely kill it."
The knot released.
