Tempting Instincts
Chapter Twenty-Three
SADIE
The pollen is lingering longer than expected.
“I’ll check on it,” Kyros says, peeking outside. “It’s been two hours.”
He ventures outside without waiting for my response, his crimson tail snapping once behind him. I sit on the cave floor, letting the weight of the water hold me down. The algae casts soft, wavering light across the stone, and it’s making me sleepy.
It’s been a long day.
Silence presses in from all sides while I wait for Kyros to return. It doesn’t take long. Ten minutes at most before he slinks back inside. He plasters himself against the wall, refusing to meet my gaze. His tail twitches beneath him.
I quirk a brow. “Well?”
“Not yet.” He hesitates. “The surge is stronger than expected. It might be several hours before the pollen fully settles.”
I rest my head against the wall and shut my eyes.
At some point, I fall asleep.
I’m lying on my side when I wake up, my head propped against my bicep and my feet crossed at the ankles.
Something is behind me, pressing firmly against my back. Something alive. Kyros. His tail is wrapped around my waist—not loosely and not by accident. The thick muscle is coiled around me like a barrier, warm and heavy and several other adjectives I don’t want to think too deeply about.
His grip on me tightens, and his tail shifts.
A fin brushes against my leg.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. It’s an odd feeling, eerily similar to a tongue dragging across my skin. Or fingertips ghosting gently over me. The fin travels up my calf, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
It takes everything in me not to shiver.
The fin travels higher. Past my knee. Up my thigh.
Why is he touching me? Has the pollen gotten the better of him? He’s been good about fighting off its effects, and I don’t see why that would change now.
My fingers curl against stone. “Kyros?”
He doesn’t respond, but I know he’s awake. His movements are too deliberate to be anything but intentional. His tail curls further around me, a subtle constriction that makes my stomach flip.
“Are you—” I swallow. “You’re cuddling me.”
“I’m aware.”
His voice is rough, and the honesty knocks the breath from my lungs. I shift slightly, unable to keep still. It’s not from discomfort.
“Why?” I ask.
Kyros exhales. “You were drifting.”
I glance down at where his tail is wrapped around me, then crane my neck so I can look him in the eye. The crimson specks are burning brighter than ever.
“The water is heavy in here…”
Kyros presses his lips together.
I continue. “Was I really drifting?”
Kyros looks away.
“Kyros?”
He sighs. “What?”
“Was I really drifting?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
He chews on his bottom lip. “You were not.”
His tail lifts, and cold water rushes in. I shiver, but not from the cold. Something about having his tail draped over me is comforting. A small part of me contemplates asking him to put it back.
But I won’t.
I need to change the subject.
“How long did I sleep?” I ask. “Has the pollen settled?”
“About an hour. And not yet.”
I study Kyros more closely. The tension in his shoulders hasn’t eased. If anything, it’s worse. His breathing—if that’s what you can even call it—is uneven. Is he still feeling the pollen’s effects?
His gaze darts away, then back again. Like he’s not sure where to look.
What does he usually do during the red bloom? I assume he’s been with other women. Merwomen. Did he restrain himself with them, too? I imagine not.
A red-hot bolt of jealousy crawls up my spine.
“Is it always like this?” I ask. “The red bloom.”
“No.”
“How is it usually?”
Kyros hesitates. He doesn’t want to tell me.
Unwelcome heat creeps up my neck. “Have you spent a red bloom with Seraya?”
“No.”
I shift again, twisting around to face Kyros. He licks his lower lip, then cautiously drapes his tail over me once more. When he realizes I’m not going to push him away—even though I most definitely should—he curls it around my waist and pulls me close, until we’re chest to chest.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
“Does what hurt?”
“The pollen…” I shrug. “Not being able to…y’know?”
Kyros cracks a smile. “I’m not a juvenile, Sadie. I’m aroused, not on the cusp of death.”
Aroused. The word bounces around my skull. This is the first time Kyros has admitted it out loud. He’s been dancing around the subject, choosing instead to focus on his ‘increased desire to drag me so deep into this cave that I have no hope of ever escaping’—as he so eloquently put it.
The dim algae light casts moving shadows across Kyros’s face, but there’s no hiding his pinched expression. He shuts his eyes and draws in a slow breath.
“You should stay away from me,” he admits.
“Is that what you want?”
Kyros opens his eyes. “No.”
My heart stutters. I should shut this down.
“Then what do you want?” I ask instead.
A hand snakes up my side, tentative as it rests on my hip. Kyros is careful not to touch my bare skin, sticking to the thin fabric of my pajamas.
“I want you safe.” His hushed words are no louder than a whisper. A confession.
We’re getting carried away.
I need to remind us what this is.
“You tried to kill me,” I say.
Kyros flinches. “I know.” His fingers curl around my waist, borderline desperate. Like he’s scared I’m going to pull away. “I felt I didn’t have a choice.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I know.”
Silence stretches between us, and something heavy settles in my chest. He sounds genuinely remorseful, but that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring back my dad or Tipper, nor does it bring back the life I once loved…the life he chose to destroy.
“I hear it,” Kyros says abruptly.
I frown. “Hear what?”
“Your scream.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “When I pushed you overboard… I hear it in my sleep. Over and over and over again.”
My breath catches. What do I say to this? I hear it in my sleep, too. I relive the entire thing over and over again, like a movie screen I can’t look away from.
The cave walls seem to shrink, the dim, flickering algae closing in on us.
“Would you take it back?” I ask. “If you could go back in time, would you do things differently?”
Kyros tenses hard enough that I feel it everywhere we’re touching, and his grip on my waist tightens until it’s borderline painful.
“Don’t,” he says, voice strained.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make this harder.”
I press my hands against his chest, prepared to push him away, but I lose courage the second I make contact with his warm skin. I’ve never touched him like this, and I’m weak to stop my fingertips from pressing into him, feeling.
He’s so strong. So… God, I don’t even know.
Crimson flares along his chest, traveling from where I’m touching down his torso. The lines vanish at his waist, where his tail starts. I watch them, unable to look away.
“Harder for who?” I ask. My voice is deceptively soft.
Kyros works his jaw from side to side.
“Kyros…”
“For me,” he bites out.
I should move. I should push him away.
“You hardly know me,” I say.
“I know enough.”
“Enough to what?”
Kyros meets my stare. “Enough to care.” He clenches his jaw and looks away.
“I don’t want to bring you to the siphon.
I don’t want to risk your life, even if it means restoring the Great Current.
I want to return home with you, hybrid and all, and I want to find an alternative way to destroy the siphon. ”
I’m not breathing. I stare at Kyros, struggling to make sense of the words. We’ve only known one another for days, and he killed my father. He pushed me into the ocean. He wanted me dead.
“The pollen is getting to your head,” I force out.
It’s an attempt to devalue his words, to diminish them.
Kyros doesn’t appreciate it. His head snaps up, his eyes narrowed and crimson specks twinkling. He curls his tail tighter around me, no longer pretending to be discreet. He’s openly holding me hostage. I’m not trying very hard to escape.
“Don’t speak on something you don’t understand,” he snaps. “These feelings are my own.”
“Then make me understand.”
Kyros crinkles his nose. He’s growing agitated. I don’t care.
“You keep beating around the subject,” I argue. “You don’t explain, then use my lack of knowledge against me. I don’t understand? Fine. Then help me understand.”
I press my hands firmly against his chest, my cheeks warming as his muscles shift beneath my palms.
His eyes darken, and red flares up his ribcage.
Then he moves. With one flick of his thumb, my pajama shirt is pushed up my torso.
Kyros swallows, his throat bobbing as he lays his palm flat against my waist, his bare skin against mine.
His fingertips tickle the base of my spine, just above the waistband of my pajama shorts, before he travels down.
His breath hitches as he skims his hand over my ass, his touch so light, I fear I’m hallucinating it.
“Males take during the red bloom.” He clears his throat. “There’s no exchange. We don’t have the patience for it. We take, and we make up for it afterward.”
I chew on my bottom lip. Where is he going with this?
He lets out a dark chuckle. “Throw in a hybrid, and that need is only amplified.”
I want to feel his need. I hate myself for it, but there’s no denying the truth. I don’t even know what sort of reproductive material Kyros has, but I still want it. I want it on, around, and inside me.
His hand trembles as it travels between my thighs, but he doesn’t make contact. He hovers, his warmth searing me even through the fabric of my shorts.
“For my hybrid,” he says. “I will give.”
My hybrid.
He shifts, the warmth of his hand vanishing just moments before his tail tightens around my waist and drags me underneath him. He hovers over me, his hands planted against the stone on either side of my head.
“Spread your thighs.”
I raise a brow.
Kyros stares me down, unwavering. “Show me.”
Despite myself, I spread my legs. Kyros immediately settles himself between them. Scales press against my inner thighs, but they’re soft. Even when I move my legs, dragging against them, there’s no pain.
Kyros shivers.