Page 41 of Brine and Bone
Spine twisting, she arched.
Head dropping back, her throat stretched long and taut. Bared in desperate, helpless surrender. Gills fluttering in an erratic pattern with each ragged pull of water through her lips.
Submission.
Total, involuntary. Etched in the long, elegant lines of her body, in the way her lips parted and her jaws grew slack. In the soft, shattered sound that bubbled from deep inside her chest.
Both males watched.
Entranced as the toxin spread.
Frost to Nyxarion’s inferno.
Veins flushing silver as it branched out from the wound. Spidering through pale skin.
And for a long, terrifying moment, her biolume blanched white.
Chromatophores shocked into ashen submission.
A horrible shade the creatures of the sea knew to mean death.
But then her colors ignited. Both bloodlines at once. Impossible, yet undeniable. Utterly.
Thalos couldn't draw a breath.
He couldn't look away from her throat. The surrender.
"Beautiful." The word escaped him without ego. A quiet thing not meant for any to hear, much less the king of the Deep.
But Nyxarion heard it anyway.
Rumbling, a wordless concession vibrated the water between them.
And for a long moment, they merely watched the venom spread. The silver threads clashing with violet.
Blending in her veins.
It was then, as Nyxarion held her open for Thalos, a sudden, devastating bloom of slick pulsed between her thighs. Heavy. Gushing into the current.
Rich. Obscene. A flavor laced with the electric musk of a female in full, screaming estrus.
Thalos' vent burst open before he could even attempt to stop it.
His pale cock squirming against the taut globes of Kore's ass. Pearls already beaded, his tip ridged and weeping.
Groaning, fingers moving to her hips, he unsheathed himself. Fully. Heavy and aching, he searched for her heat without thinking.
"Is that what you needed?" he murmured, lips working against the shell of her ear. Withdrawing his spine, thumb tracing a slow circle against her thigh to soothe the ache. "Shall I make it go away?"
Her answer was a guttural thing.
Cracked in the middle.
Born from a throat that had forgotten speech, she let her body speak for her. Hips rolling against Nyxarion's vent. Searching and desperate. Her slick pulsing from her cunt in lewd ribbons.
Spines in full flare, Nyxarion rumbled. Low. A continuous sound of an apex predator fighting every instinct he possessed.
But Thalos couldn't stop.
