Tide and Tempest (Song of the Black Sea #2)

Chapter 1

He said he’d answered when no other would listen.

Summoned.

That he was the tide meant to drown the flesh of the sun. His cock the altar she’d begged to be broken across. Anchoring her to the deep where he might covet his precious, living flame.

He’d promised her devotion would strengthen his rebel empire and spawn a new era.

But then he’d stolen her voice and watched her drown.

And now Kore craved the touch of a monster and the taste of his venom.

Eyes closed, brow furrowed, Kore squirmed.

Shifting where she was cradled in a fist of coral at the bottom of the Black Sea.

Imprisoned in a cage built just for her.

It pulsed with a haunting blue caste as the reef hummed around her, alive.

The exact shade of blue reflected in her veins as her eyelids flicked back and forth.

Dreaming.

Her mind adrift. Seeking shelter from the impossible reality of what she’d become.

A Siren.

Her body no longer her own.

Not… not really.

For no human could sleep in the crushing depths, locked away in the black waters.

But neither was she one of them.

Pelagorn.

Born of the sea.

Creatures of the deepest myth.

The meeting of some long extinct leviathan and the mutant bastard delivered from Poseidon’s bloodline.

Human to their naval.

Leviathan to the tip of their fluke.

Twitching in her sleep, she arched. Breasts heavy and ripe, nipples puckered. Glinting with the shimmer of sunfire and warmth where tiny scales ringed those sensitive buds. Aching for the scrape of his claws, the weight of his palm.

She whimpered, dreaming of the way he’d pinch until she mewled. Rough and demanding and cruel.

Traitorous thing that it was, her body reacted. Gushing a vicious liquid, her folds wept for the monster who’d claimed her. Swollen with need as she perfumed the water with the scent both rich and delicate.

The reef’s tender polyps leaned toward her, ravenous mouths breathing her in. Giving precious oxygen in exchange for the delectable scent that hadn’t existed in any sea for countless generations.

Shifting in her sleep, hips rolling in search of friction, a puff of bubbles escaped her gills—what might have been a moan on the surface, if she had any air—but she didn’t wake.

She dreamed.

Of the stretch. The way he’d split her open, filled her with molten heat and made her more than whole. Wedging himself inside her as he’d pumped her womb so full she’d been unable to draw breath without tasting brine, even as she’d cried and begged for more.

And then he’d dragged her into the black waters and held her against his chest as she’d drowned. Knotting her placid, he’d locked inside her done exactly that.

Given her more.

Her back arched, a silent cry bubbling up from cold lips. Moving around a plea, mute as her gills worked to pull enough oxygen from the current to feed her once-human brain.

Thighs pressing together, her eyes flickered before they opened. Pupils luminous in the dark, irises flecked through with gold.

She was empty.

Hollow.

Agony.

Reaching with webbed fingers, Kore gasped and felt a breath of cold water flood her lungs before it leaked through her gills. Venting some of the heat bubbling in her center.

It wasn’t enough.

Fingers curling around the bars of her prison, Kore tried to call out. To summon the male who’d ruined her.

But she had no voice.

And there was no one left to listen.

Still…

A shadow passed above.

Massive. A colossus drifting through the dark.

Her captor.

Her lifeline.

Nyxarion.

She couldn’t help the way she recoiled. Cringing back from the massive male who emerged through the gloom, even as her cunt clenched around nothing. Womb a hollow ache that begged for relief with a lewd throb and another viscous gush of slick.

Fingers twisting, Kore tried to signal submission, making Poesideon’s symbol in desperate, mute twitches.

Head tilting, he grinned. Fins flaring to catch the current as he descended.

Tail flicking once, lazy and possessive as he slithered closer but stayed beyond reach.

And then, with a predatory grin, he said, “You’re awake,” in a voice she could feel reverberate in her chest.

Because her lungs were filled with the sea.

Tilting his head back, he took a breath and pulled the black waters through his lips. Tasting… her. The scent of her slick. Her arousal.

Claws clicking along the coral bars, he hummed a musical threat as those deadly points prickled along her thigh.

Kore shuddered, trying to reach him through the bars. Nipples beaded tight, pussy flushed and plumped with neglect.

Nyxarion thrummed in his chest. “Does my bride ache for my seed?” he crooned, and let his cock burst from his slit. Catching that monster about the middle, he pumped it once in his massive fist. Letting the pearls bloom along that twisting, ravenous girth.

A net of bubbles escaped her when she tried to beg, to plead, or pray.

“Or is it my knot she misses?” He laughed, deep and cruel.

“I can taste your need, little Siren. Your scent”—he stroked his cock from base to tip and squeezed the head until a drop of pearlescent sperm burst from his tip—“it perfumes the Deep. Already, the flavor of your desire for your king spills from this sea to the next. A beacon that hasn’t been sounded in any waters in far longer than you can imagine. ”

Heat kissed her cheeks, then. Some bastard version of shame, but it didn’t stop her from following the path his fist made as it stroked his girth in a slow, deliberate pass.

“My court has been summoned,” he said. “Soon, a legion of loyal Abyssari will fill this trench. They will come to bear witness to the incredible feat I have accomplished in conquering the Black Sea.” He drifted closer, settling near enough that he could wrap his tail around the entire base of her cage.

“And then,” he hummed, fanning her with his scent, “of course, they will come to witness… you. My greatest triumph.”

Shaking her head, Kore’s lips parted on a denial. A refusal of all he claimed—that she was anything at all except a victim.

But the words wouldn’t come.

And her pussy clenched.

Nyxarion’s smile grew wicked. “They’ll come to watch,” he said as his cock slid between the bars of her cage. Searching for… her. “To see if the stories were true. If a Siren can take it all and beg for more.”

Flailing, she tried to kick when the coral shifted beneath her. Tried to thrash when a set of boney fingers wrapped about her ribs and forced her to roll. Adjusting her as she thrashed, until she faced the back of her prison.

Left exposed.

Open.

Maneuvered to suit Nyxarion’s unspoken whim, the coral obeyed him. Moved her. Gripping her tighter, until she was bent before him, her bottom upturned and pressed back, against the bars.

“Yes,” he crooned and spread her cheeks with a gentle touch. “It won’t be long now, Kore. Soon, your transformation will be complete. Your womb will grow plush and welcoming.”

It was then, as blunt, probing heat kissed her, that Kore strained against her bonds. Not in abject terror—though she should have been hopelessly lost in prayer to the divine for aid—but in frustration.

He was teasing what he’d plundered.

Playing with the swollen lips of her sex when he should have been ravaging her.

A cloud of bubbles tickled the underside of her jaw when she tried to snarl at him. To silence his monologue and command him to end the brutal ache burning through her blood.

His grin only grew more vicious. Greedy. “To reward your submission,” he purred, reaching around to milk her nipples, “I’ll breed you before the court so there will never be a question of whose spawn you carry.”

At last, he bullied his way forward. Letting his cock burrow, he unleashed the beast with a sigh so deep it rattled the liquid in her lungs. Hummed at the base of her brain.

Fingers clawing for purchase, a ragged breath clattered through her gills. And, gasping, Kore welcomed the stretch with a garbled sound.

“Soon,” he cooed, and seated himself with an easy glide through slick flesh, “your gills will mature. And you will sing, my sweet Siren,” he said, plumbing her depths as he fucked her through the bars of the cage. “Your voice shall be the song that calls them home.”

Jaws sagging, Kore’s hips rolled, her body answering what her mind tried to reject. Eyes fixed to the flare of fins where they were anchored around her prison—lurching with every slow roll of his hips as he bottomed out inside her.

Over, and over, and over again. Slow. Diligent. Achingly relentless.

“Every time the trench stirs, I’m going to fill you, just like this,” he groaned, and with his free hand, Nyxarion reached forward, petting the length of her bowed spine, bottom to top, then cupped her jaw.

Forcing her to twist. To bend as she was ridden, to meet his molten, pitiless gaze.

“With every tide. Each pulse of the Deep. Every deepfold and bloom cycle.” His thumb dragged her lower lip down before plunging inside.

She sucked, tongue laving the pad of his thumb.

Tail flexing, his fins flared as he drew a breath between his lips. Hissing as he gave her another vicious shove—and the water between them shivered with him.

The coral bit into Kore’s palms as she rocked back, impaling herself, trying to force him to go faster, harder. Deeper.

But he refused.

Giving relentless precision instead of that violent, desperate lust she’d come to crave.

Because there was no urgency.

No desperate crush of being on land, slowly suffocating as he worked to dose her with just enough to force her transformation.

Here in the Deep, he could take his time. Luxuriate in the velvet clench he’d remade to suit his carnal whims.