Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
VAELA
I lead Nyxara through the arched corridors of my palace, her steps slow, cautious. The bioluminescent glow of the walls reflects against her dark gown, casting flickering hues of blue and violet across her sharp cheekbones, the soft part of her lips. She doesn’t speak, but I can feel the shift in her—something deep, something hesitant but no longer resisting.
Something dangerous.
And gods, I crave it.
Bringing her here—bringing her into my world, into my kingdom—has caused something to settle between us. A tether neither of us can ignore. Even now, I feel it tightening, coiling around my ribs, pulling her closer with every step she takes.
She belongs here.
She would never admit it, but I can feel it in the way she moves, the way her eyes linger too long on the glowing coral spires beyond the glass walls, the way her fingers brush absentmindedly over the water as though she’s trying to understand it.
A dragon in the deep.
I bite my lip, amused by the poetic irony of it.
“Come,” I say softly, guiding her toward a vast chamber where the walls curve like the inside of a seashell, smooth and pearlescent, opening into an enormous dome of swirling water.
Tiny specks of golden light drift lazily inside—the Lirien Bloom.
My jellyfish.
They glow like submerged stars, their long, delicate tendrils trailing behind them in the slow, rhythmic dance of the tides. The moment I step inside, they stir, sensing me, their pulses brightening with recognition.
Nyxara stops beside me, arms crossed, observing them with quiet curiosity.
“They are beautiful,” she admits after a moment.
I smirk, reaching out as two of them drift closer, their pulsing forms illuminating my fingers in soft gold. Luma & Neridia. My ever-faithful companions.
“They like you,” I murmur, watching as Luma pulses a little brighter, tentacles curling toward Nyxara, drawn to the warmth of her magic.
Nyxara tilts her head, watching them with an unreadable expression. “Strange little creatures.”
I chuckle. “Careful, Dragon Queen. Say enough pretty words and I might think you enjoy being here.”
She turns, her green eyes sharp. “Don’t push it.”
I laugh, stepping forward. The jellyfish move toward me, curling around my arms, their soft, gelatinous forms pressing gently against my skin.
“They are guardians,” I explain, watching as one of them drifts toward Nyxara, nudging at her forearm. She stiffens, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
I shake my head. “They don’t sting, you know.”
Her gaze flicks to me. “If they did, I would burn them.”
A low chuckle escapes my lips. “You wouldn’t.”
Her expression sharpens. “And why is that?”
I take a slow step toward her, my bare feet gliding over the smooth floor, closing the space between us. The energy between us shifts, something thick, weighted, unspoken.
“Because,” I whisper, trailing a finger along her wrist, where the jellyfish had touched, “you would never harm something that belongs to me.”
She doesn’t move.
She just watches me, her emerald eyes flickering with something unreadable, something dangerous. Something hungry.
I glance at the jellyfish. “Leave us.”
At once, they retreat, gliding back into the water, the chamber dimming slightly as their soft glow fades into the deep.
The moment they are gone, the weight between us crashes down in full force.
Nyxara’s breath is steady, controlled but I see the truth in her eyes. The way her restraint wavers, the way her claws twitch at her sides, aching to grab me, to claim.
The weight of it—of us—hangs between us, thick as the waters surrounding her.
And I am done waiting.
“You feel it,” I murmur, stepping closer, trailing my fingers over her collarbone, feeling the warmth of her skin, the pulse of magic thrumming beneath it. “Don’t you?”
She exhales sharply, jaw clenching.
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t deny it.
Doesn’t deny me.
I tilt my chin, letting my lips hover just shy of hers, tasting the heat in the space between us. “Let me have you.”
Her body is rigid, her nails pressing into her palms. She’s fighting it. Fighting me.
But then she snaps.
Her hands are on me before I can blink, claws digging into my hips as she pulls me flush against her, her mouth crashing into mine with a force that steals the breath from my lungs. It’s raw, punishing, desperate. A war in itself. A war I am more than willing to lose.
She bites my lip, hard enough to make me gasp, and when I do, her tongue slips past, deepening the kiss, devouring me.
Then, just as quickly, she wrenches herself away, her grip tightening, her eyes burning as she stares me down and sits herself down on the edge of my bed.
And then her voice drops, low and dark, filled with unspoken promise. “Crawl to me, little siren.”
The words slam into me, knocking the air from my lungs.
Heat licks up my spine, pooling deep in my stomach, setting my skin alight with something molten, something unshakable.
I swallow, my pulse hammering, but I don’t move. Not yet.
Her emerald eyes gleam, daring me, waiting.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Her voice is nothing but smoke and fire, curling around me, demanding, dominating.
My breath catches.
Slowly I drop to my hands, the cool stone brushing against my palms as I shift, sliding one knee forward, then the other.
I watch her as I move, as I obey, dragging myself toward her with slow, measured movements, my gaze locked onto hers.
Nyxara watches me, her chest rising and falling steadily, but there’s something else now—something deeper, something raw.
Possession.
Satisfaction.
And fuck, I think I like it.
I reach her feet, still on my hands and knees. My breath is uneven, my body taut with anticipation. I tilt my head back, meeting her gaze from below, and the look in her eyes nearly undoes me.
Dark. Possessive. Triumphant.
Her claws drag down my arms, a teasing threat, sharp enough to remind me who holds the control but not enough to break skin. A slow, deliberate touch that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Remind me, siren,” she murmurs, voice smooth as molten steel, “exactly what it is you feel.”
My breath catches.
Because I already know.
And gods help me so does she.
Lifting to my knees, I press my lips to her stomach, to the sharp cut of her hip bone. “As my fiery queen commands,” I murmur against her skin.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, a sharp pull, guiding me to where she wants me.
I don’t fight her.
I spread her thighs, my palms tracing the soft flesh there, my tentacles slithering up her legs, teasing, wrapping, holding her open for me.
And then I taste her.
Goddess.
She is molten heat and salt, a storm contained in soft, slick velvet. I groan, dragging my tongue over her clit, slow, savoring, teasing.
Her breath hitches, her grip tightening in my hair.
“That’s it, siren. Show me how much you crave the burn,” she rasps.
I hum against her, the vibration making her shudder.
Her hips jerk forward, chasing the sensation, but I grip her thighs, holding her in place, dragging my tongue over her again, flicking, swirling, sucking.
She moans, a sharp, breathless sound that sends a pulse of pride straight through me.
I want more.
I want to ruin her.
I press my tongue deeper, my tentacles curling around her thighs, keeping her steady, keeping her exactly where I want her.
I pull back slightly, dragging my tongue torturously slow along her slick folds, barely touching her clit. She lets out a strangled noise, her claws scraping against my scalp.
I grin against her.
“What’s wrong, Dragon Queen?” I murmur, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of my tongue. “Losing your patience?”
Nyxara’s breathing is ragged, her pupils blown wide, the emerald of her irises consumed by the sheer, raw need darkening her gaze. She looks wild like this—hair disheveled, lips parted, body trembling beneath my touch.
But patience has never been her virtue.
A growl rumbles low in her throat, her claws digging into my thighs as she yanks me up, her strength overpowering, her possessiveness undeniable. Before I can react, before I can tease her about how needy she’s become, she rips the pearl bodice from my body, the delicate chains snapping under her strength. The cool water kisses my newly exposed skin.
I barely have time to gasp before she grips the fabric of my skirt, tearing it clean down the middle, the shredded material falling away in tatters as she tosses it carelessly aside.
Then, she flips me onto my back, pressing me into the cool silk sheets, her weight pinning me down.
A sharp inhale escapes me, my body shuddering at the heat of her skin against mine. My tentacles twitch in anticipation, sensing the shift in her energy—the hunger, the dominance, the control she so desperately needs to reclaim.
“Enough,” she growls, her voice molten, unyielding. “You forget who’s in charge, little siren.”
I smirk against the sheets, even as my breath hitches at the feel of her trailing her claws up my spine, slow and deliberate, teasing my over sensitized flesh. “Oh? And who might that be?” I purr, knowing exactly how far I can push her before she snaps.
She snarls in response, her body pressing against mine, her fingers sliding down my waist, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
“Keep running your mouth,” she murmurs darkly, her lips ghosting over the shell of my ear. “And see what happens.”
She spreads me open, her nails raking down my thighs before she hooks her leg over mine, pressing her slick heat against me. I gasp, the friction deliciously unbearable as she grinds against me, slow at first, just a tease, just enough to set every nerve ending ablaze.
Then, she moves.
Hard. Desperate. Unrelenting.
I cry out, my body jerking at the onslaught of pleasure, my hips rolling to meet her. She grips my wrists, pinning them above my head as she sets the pace, forcing me to take everything she gives.
Every sharp thrust.
Every shuddering moan that spills from her lips.
Every delicious, maddening inch of her grinding against me, claiming me, wrecking me.
I can’t think. Can’t breathe.
I am drowning in her.
Her nails scrape down my sides, slow and deliberate, like she enjoys feeling me tremble beneath her touch. Her weight presses me deeper into the sheets, her heat searing, her dominance absolute.
"You like this, don’t you, siren?" Her voice is a low, taunting growl, her breath hot against my throat as she rolls her hips, pressing deeper, harder. "This is what you craved. The touch of a dragon."
A wicked smile curves my lips even as I gasp, my hands gripping her arms, nails dragging over her skin. "Mmm, and here I thought you weren’t paying attention," I murmur, voice breathy, teasing.
She growls, sinking her teeth into my jaw, just enough to sting, enough to remind me that she holds the power here. She thrusts again, grinding against my aching core, making my back arch, making me whimper.
"Look at you," she continues, voice nothing but smoke and possession. "Under me. Writhing. Needy. Desperate."
I bite my lip, swallowing another moan, refusing to give her the satisfaction. But she feels it—she knows.
Her fingers trail between us, teasing, taunting, sliding over my slick heat before dragging up my stomach, leaving streaks of my own arousal across my skin.
"I can feel how wet you are for me," she growls, her claws scraping over my ribs.
I let out a breathless laugh, tilting my head back, staring at her through half-lidded eyes.
"Confidence looks good on you, Dragon Queen."
She smirks, gripping my throat in one firm hand, pressing me back into the mattress.
"Stay still," she orders, her voice molten dominance, her claws pressing into my skin, forcing my pulse to hammer beneath her grip. "You will take what I give you."
A sharp whimper escapes me as she moves again.
I tremble, heat coiling tight, too tight. I try to move, to press closer, but she holds me down, her strength unrelenting.
"You’re mine," she growls, low and dangerous, watching me fall apart, watching me drown beneath her. "Say it, Sea Witch."
I let my lips part, a smirk curling the edges even as my breath stutters. "And if I don’t?"
A challenge.
She snarls, pressing her body harder against mine, her heat searing into my skin, her grip tightening around my throat—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me exactly who is in control.
"Then I’ll make you."
Her hips snap forward, her pace unforgiving, merciless, and I gasp, my back bowing, pleasure slamming through me like a crashing wave.
"Fuck—" I choke out, my hands gripping her wrists, my claws pressing into her skin, desperate, aching.
"Say it," she demands, her lips dragging over my jaw, her tongue flicking against my pulse.
I swallow, the pleasure too much, too sharp, too perfect.
"I—" My breath stutters, another cry falling from my lips as she moves again, dragging me to the edge, pulling me under.
"You. Are. Mine," she repeats, her voice like molten steel, burning into my very bones.
I break.
I shatter beneath her, my climax ripping through me, my body shaking, every muscle tightening as I fall, as I drown, as I give in.
"Nyxara—" I gasp, barely a whisper, barely a plea.
Her smirk presses against my skin, wicked and knowing. "That’s it."
But she’s not done.
Before I can recover, before my body even stops trembling, she moves. Reaching for something beside us—a seashell, smooth, large, glistening with the faint sheen of magic.
My eyes widen, my breath catching as she drags the shell along the inside of my thigh, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat of my oversensitive skin.
"Let’s see how much you can take, siren," she purrs, pressing the shell against my entrance, teasing, waiting.
I whimper, my hips bucking toward her, needing more, needing everything.
Nyxara chuckles darkly. "Desperate already?"
"Nyxara," I pant, hands clawing at her back, at her hips, anywhere I can reach. "Please—"
"Please?" she muses, dragging the shell just barely inside me, stretching me, filling me. "I thought sirens didn’t beg?"
I growl, trying to move, to take more, but she pins my hips down, watching me squirm, watching me suffer under her touch. She thrusts the shell deeper, and I cry out, my body arching, pleasure slamming through me all over again, raw and unrelenting.
But I am not the only one desperate.
My tentacles curl around her thighs, wrapping her in soft, strong coils, holding her still as I push my magic into her, as I press one slick, glowing tendril inside her.
She gasps, her eyes widening, her grip on my hips tightening.
"You—"
I smirk, arching into her. "Let’s see how much you can take, Dragon Queen."
She snarls, but it breaks into a moan as I thrust inside her, matching her rhythm, matching her hunger, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
We move together, a clash of fire and sea, of dominance and surrender, of something that is neither and both at once.
Her claws dig into my thighs, her breath hot against my lips, our bodies slick and writhing, our moans tangled, desperate.
"Look at you," I breathe, my lips brushing against hers, teasing. "Taking me so well."
She growls, biting my lip, sucking it between her teeth before dragging her tongue over the sting.
I roll my hips, my tentacle pressing deeper inside her, stroking that perfect spot, making her shudder and break for me. One of the suction cups latches onto her clit, pulsing, sucking, and sending sharp, electric jolts of pleasure through her as my tentacle slides in and out of her, stretching her to the fullest.
"Come for me, Dragon Queen," I whisper, licking into her mouth, stealing the breath from her lungs. "Show me how good I feel inside you."
We shatter together, her body tightening around my tentacle, her claws digging into my skin, her moan raw, desperate, wild. My tentacles hold her close as I come apart with her, pleasure washing over us in violent, crashing waves, our magic tangling, twining, binding.
We ride it out, gasping, panting, clinging to each other as the aftershocks roll through us.
Nyxara’s weight is solid against me, her warmth seeping into my skin, her breath fanning over my lips in slow, uneven waves. I feel the tension in her muscles begin to ease, the possessive grip she has on my waist loosening just slightly, but not entirely.
Because she still holds me.
Because neither of us are ready to pull away.
Her emerald eyes flicker open, searching mine, something unreadable glinting beneath the fire that still lingers there. Want. Need. Ownership.
And something deeper.
Something I feel too. From this moment on, I know I am hers.
But I cannot belong to her, not like this. Not with the weight of a contract still binding my choices, my fate, to a deal that should never have been made.
So I shift beneath her, my magic coiling around us, cool where hers is hot, soothing where hers still burns. A whisper of the ocean seeps through the air, and in an instant, the scroll appears in my hand.
Nyxara stiffens, her gaze darkening as she watches the contract hover between us.
The magic embedded in the parchment pulses, faint and eerie, the ink shimmering as if sensing its inevitable end.
Nyxara moves to sit up, her claws flexing, but I tighten my hold on her, keeping her pressed against me, our bodies still tangled, still warm.
I meet her gaze, letting her see the honesty in my own. "I am not bound to you because of this," I whisper, my voice steady, sure. "Not anymore."
She watches me, unblinking, unreadable.
I lift my free hand, summoning a slow, curling tendril of water that wraps around the parchment, weaving through the fibers, seeping into the ink.
The moment the water touches it, the contract withers.
The edges curl. The words dissolve, fading into the ether, erased as if they had never existed.
And then, the parchment bursts into nothing.
The magic that once tied me to an obligation, to a forced fate, is gone.
Nyxara’s claws tighten against my hip, her jaw clenched as she stares at the empty space where the contract had been.
"You would destroy the bargain?" she murmurs, her voice unreadable.
I reach up, brushing my fingers along the sharp angle of her jaw, letting my thumb drag against her bottom lip. "I don’t need a contract to stand by your side, Nyxara."
Something shifts in her gaze.
Something cracks.
"You have me," I continue, pressing my lips to hers. "Not because I have to be here. But because I choose to be here."
A slow exhale shudders from her lips, and for a long moment, she does not speak.
Then, finally, she nods.
As I pull her back down against me, as our breaths tangle once more, as her lips ghost over mine in something softer than possession, something closer to devotion, I know this is no longer a war of bargains.
This is ours.
And I will fight for her, not because I made a deal.
But because I want to.
Because she is mine, and I am hers.