Chapter 18
He'd arrived too late and just in time.
Behind him, the entire Hollow Court and the Deep.
Warriors and Virelii, all gathered in a loose twisting vortex to watch.
Bearing witness to the Shallow King's claim.
The scent of cum and blood was already in the water—but his precious living flame, the glorious beating heart of his heretical kingdom—was alive.
Eyes glassy, bottomless voids as she fought the thrall of Thalos' venom.
But alive.
And so instead of launching into bloodshed, Nyxarion snarled, his eyes moving to the wounds weeping at Kore's nape. Opposite to the mark he'd left on her delicate throat.
Mapping the damage of claws where Thalos had gripped her too tight.
And her veins.
She was lit from within. Violet flames. Gills and skin flashing with Thalassari color as she gasped and took all Thalos had to give. Vision sparkling black at the edges, Nyx watched the Shallow King with the sort of unblinking stare that hinted at something dark lurking in the tide.
Something gruesome and blood thirsty.
Ravenous for slaughter.
A storm.
Thalos’ hips sluiced through the current, and, neck rolling, he turned to meet Nyxarion's eyes.
He smiled.
Eyes blazing with frigid, crystalline satisfaction. The lust for taking something the other male had already claimed. Greedy, even as he debased himself. His claws dimpled precious, tender skin, his hips sluiced through the water. Pumping. Filling her.
Once.
Twice more.
Nyx’s grip went bloodless around the Trident’s shaft. The ancient prongs beginning to hum with an ancient, repressed power. Making the water dance and shimmer.
And he watched.
Pupils blown wide, yawning black and murderous as Thalos bred her.
It was his right.
By Pelagorn law.
It was what Nyxarion had given up to spare her the agony of the Chain of Breath.
The agony of that beach, broiling beneath the harsh sun.
He'd forfeited knowing Thalos would take liberties.
That despite all his pious posturing, the Shallow King wouldn't be able to resist the scent of a Siren approaching estrus.
It was his sacrifice.
For her.
And this was the price.
Back flexing, Thalos snarled. Rhythm breaking down. Working to perfume the current with citrus and ozone with every clash of his hips against her mound. Bright lightning. Sunlight and seafoam.
When he came, it was with a snarl. Vicious. Shuddering.
A profound lack of composure from the very male who defined it. Enforced it.
And for a moment, made to bear witness without interfering, Nyxarion was taken by the lewd sight. By the spectacle of the ocean's chosen son coming undone by his living flame. Sullied.
Grinning despite the possessive rage festering in his veins, Nyxarion's scales lifted to vent his fury.
Vision tunneling, fixated to the point where Thalos' cock was lodged so deep inside his perfect bride.
Watching the other male shudder. His fins flaring wide in a bristling display of helpless, catatonic ecstasy that caught every drop of light in the gloom and made it shimmer as he sent another pulse inside her.
The way Kore's belly swelled… the soft, pale skin growing taut and shiny as Thalos pumped his seed into her womb.
Her eyes rolled white.
Head lolling back, her jaws sagging around a soundless scream.
Climax washed through her.
He could see it in the pulse of color beneath her skin, the way her muscles flexed and lurched…
So pretty.
Such a dainty, glorious thing, his bride. Even now. Even plump and spoiled with Thalassari sperm.
"Take all of it, you magnificent creature," Thalos hummed, drinking her in as she surrendered in his arms.
And then the impossible bloomed into stark reality.
Thalos hunched, clutching Kore against his chest with a primitive snarl.
His knot.
It bulged at the base of his cock.
A slow, blooming stretch. Obscene. His pale girth distending as the breeding gland engorged to lock him inside Kore's dainty body.
He forced it in.
Thalos Asterion, the Sovereign of Caelith Mare, broke Spiral law. Publicly. With the entire Hollow Court as witness.
Trident blazing, a bark of cold, shocked laughter burst from Nyxarion's lips. Incredulous. "You dare to knot my bride," he hissed, and the gathered Pelagorn rippled with the shock. "Before an audience of your own people?"
But Thalos' grip only tightened, knot pulsing. Swelling large enough to set that forbidden claim. Pumping every drop as deep as he might, ensuring it would stay exactly where he sent it.
"You've lost, Shallow King," Nyxarion said, laughing. Shocked as a ripple of chaos erupted all around him. "The Spiral is over. She's mine."
Lips curling around a smug grin, Thalos remained, shuddering into her.
Spines shivering. And in a voice hoarse with the effort, he said, "You know nothing of the law.
" It was a tone that carried through the current.
Not unaffected, voice gruff, he added, "Breaking the covenant doesn't forfeit my claim.
" And then, hand stroking down that distended belly, claws ranking over pale skin stretched taut, he added, "It is disadvantage.
You should be thanking me, Nyxarion," Thalos added, casting a wicked smirk over Kore's delicate shoulder as he sent another pulse into her overfilled womb.
"Thank you?" Nyx returned, fists clenched, the trident boiling the water where it was held away from his body. Levelled at Thalos' spine. Mystified by the sheer audacity of the Shallow King. "Do explain," he drawled as the other shivered.
"This is a gift," Thalos said, and groaned.
"I'll begin the Crucible of Bone with a handicap for this…
minor transgression. And you," he added, having the gall to reach beneath the swell of Kore's belly to strum her clit, "will have advantage. Of course, now the lineage of her spawn hangs in the balance, but...” He sucked his teeth. “That was inevitable."
Nyxarion’s rage was an incandescent thing.
Tail flicking through the current, wrath burning too hot in his chest, Nyxarion drifted closer.
Circling. "The Crucible of Bone is going to be exquisite," he spat, scales absorbing any hint of light that remained, but his laugh was molten fury.
"I'm going to peel your pretty fins from your spine, pluck each and every scale from your worthless hide, and decorate the halls of Vorynthar with what I carve from your flesh. "
Grin growing sharp and wicked, Thalos rolled one pretty pink nipple between his fingers.
Just to watch her shudder. "Yes,' he said, and let his hips roll.
"The Crucible will be a pleasure. Nothing like this," he said, sending another pulse into her womb.
"But perhaps now that I've been handicapped, you might just stand a chance of winning. "
Levelling the Trident at Thalos' nape, Nyxarion's lips curled around something deadly. Too feral to be called a smile, it was debased. Unhinged. Thirsty for blood and carnage. "Cracking your skull open across the reef will be my life's greatest joy," he said, quiet, as if conversational.
Shuddering, Thalos' balls flexed. A gasp dragged between his teeth when another climax raced through his shaft.
"I'm going to end the Asterion line," Nyxarion continued, snaking closer. The trident a frothing, furious beacon in the dark. "It doesn't matter who sires her spawn. She is mine."
"Bold words," Thalos hummed, and let his tongue drag over his bite mark.
Where her sweet blood was curling into the current.
"Spoken while you watch me breed our sweet Siren.
And she's been good," he murmured against her shoulder.
Free hand coming up to capture her throat.
Guiding her blank, glassy eyes back to his. "So good for me."
Flashing his teeth, Nyxarion grinned. And it was a wicked, vicious thing. "Enjoy it, Asterion," he crooned, "for it shall be the last knot you'll ever set."
Without responding, before the entire audience of gathered Pelagorn, Thalos cupped Kore's face.
Thumbs stroking the blade of her cheekbones as her body jerked.
Convulsing. Her belly rounded with the volume of seed forced inside.
"Such a perfect little abomination," he murmured, staring down at her, unblinking.
Hips sluicing through the current in tiny pulses.
Grinding through the very last weak jets of his release, Thalos worked his knot through the mess.
"Taking every last drop, my sweet, greedy mutant. "
And then, with a sigh, a final shiver of release, Thalos' knot released. Cock sliding free, still hard, his pearls pulsed, even as it retracted. Forced back into his vent.
She didn't spill a drop.
Belly shining where the skin was pulled taut, Kore's muscles twitched. And she sank. Slowly. Floating in the sluggish current, dazed, trying to metabolize the preposterous amount of venom coursing through her delicate system.
Fins flared.
Catatonic.
With a final caress of her belly, Thalos slipped around her.
Snaking through the current with a predatory grace.
Elegance in motion. And then, hands hefting her new girth, he lifted her.
Licked the wound he'd left on her nape and met Nyxarion's glare over her shoulder.
"Something to remember me by," he murmured, silver scales flashing with a cascade of color.
A taunt. "Call it motivation for the Crucible. "
Water frothing around the trident's tines, superheated bubbles hissing as they raced for the surface, Nyxarion restrained himself. Dumped his rage into the white-knuckled grip wrapped around the ancient weapon's shaft, and looked instead to his precious bride.
Kore.
The only thing stopping him from launching the Trident straight through Thalos' smug face.
And when he spoke, Nyxarion's voice had dropped to a subsonic rumble. Scales lifting, the water between them shimmered with heat. With pure, lethal promise. "Nerissa," he snapped, summoning the Tide Mother from the shadows. "Take her. Into the Deep."
The Tide Mother slid between warring males with a graceful flick of her tail. Fins and flukes, she swept Kore into her arms. Cradling the little dazed female to her chest. Cooing against her temple, ancient features growing tight when she touched Kore's gills. Assessing. Searching for damage.
Brow wrinkling, Nerissa made a sound. Musical. Disgusted.
And then she flicked her ethereal fluke, twisted, and descended without a word.
Ghostly white scales and fluttering, silken fins vanished into the black waters. The pulse of Kore's biolume lingered long after they'd been swallowed up by the abyss.
For a long moment, Nyxarion watched the last place he'd seen her pretty colors. Obsessively watching the abyss swallow his precious living flame.
And then he turned.
A slow revolution.
Tracking the Shallow King.
"The Crucible," Nyxarion said, slow and measured, "begins with the next tide. And I'm going to take my time, Asterion." Drifting closer, he let the Trident hiss and spit. "I'm going to enjoy it."
Teeth gleaming, silver scales pulsing with a hint of Asterion chromatophores, Thalos grinned. "Looking forward to it."
Before he could change his mind about slaughtering the Shallow King, Nyxarion twisted. Shifting his enormous bulk, he snaked through the dark.
Following the distant beacon of a sunset glowing at the bottom of the sea…